Deviant: No Longer Human

In Moscow, the general—once a man of war, unshaken by death—stood paralyzed.

His voice, always so commanding, now wavered with an almost childlike fear. "This… this isn't something we can fight." His words were followed by silence.

His men, hardened soldiers who had seen the worst of humanity, dropped one by one to their knees.

In the streets of Rio, the crowd that once watched with awe now shuddered with fear.

Mothers pulled their children close, shielding them from something they couldn't understand but knew, deep in their bones, was coming for them next.

The hum of the city dimmed, and slowly, as though guided by some unseen force, they began to kneel.

Thud.

One after another, falling to their knees like dominos collapsing under an invisible weight.

It spread like a plague, an instinctive surrender sweeping across the globe.

In the poorest villages, the wealthiest towers, from bustling cities to remote hamlets, people bent under the weight of something they couldn't comprehend.

The figure in the red sand was gone, but her presence lingered like a shadow in their minds, pressing down on their chests, stealing their breath.

This is not human.

This is not power.

In London, a single voice on the livestream broke the silence. "We… we thought we understood power. But this… this is something beyond gods."

The anchor's voice cracked, her eyes wide with terror as the camera caught her shaking hands.

Then, as if in resignation, she lowered herself to the ground.

The cameras never cut.

In homes, in offices, in churches and temples, people knelt.

And those who did not were dragged down by their neighbors.

"Kneel!" they screamed. "Kneel, or you'll bring ruin upon us!"

In Imperial captial, the government had already collapsed into silence.

No one dared to speak.

The officials who had once plotted war now sat trembling in their seats, too afraid to stand, too afraid to bow.

One by one, they fell.

Their heads touched the ground in submission.

Across the world, hearts pounded in synchrony.

This was not worship born from love or faith.

This was survival.

The kind of reverence demanded by something so ancient, so unstoppable, that it erased any hope of rebellion.

No one knew if the Eighth Prince had commanded this… or if the figure in the sand was the true hand of God.

But what everyone knew—what every soul now understood—was that there was no fighting it.

There was no standing against it.

If there was a god, this was the one.

_______

The world had gone quiet.

People no longer dared to mention the Eighth Prince's name.

It wasn't out of respect—it was out of sheer terror.

They feared that even whispering something that might offend the hand of this so-called god would end them.

Still, there were fools.

Some people, like Wang Xiao in his younger days, still clung to delusions of grandeur.

They dreamed of slaying this god, of flipping the heavens the finger.

Even if it meant going against the order of the universe itself.

But thinking and doing are two very different things.

Could another Wang Xiao be made?

Could someone else rise up, spit in the face of ultimate power, cuck the god, and kill him?

Could anyone else dare to challenge the cosmic order, knowing they'd most likely be obliterated before they even got close?

Wang Xiao didn't care about any of it.

The changes in the world, the shifting of people's loyalty and fear, meant nothing to him.

He had long since stopped concerning himself with these petty thoughts.

All of it was being handled by Anran from the shadows, manipulating things while he stayed comfortably ignorant.

Today, on the morning of November 11th, Wang Xiao was far from the Imperial Capital, still resting in Romania, indulging in pleasures most men only dreamed of.

Slurp... slurp...

The sound of something wet filled the room as two lips collided, their tongues tangling together in a heated, messy kiss.

It was early morning, but it didn't stop the fire between them.

Ji Xuehong's lips parted reluctantly, her breath shaky as she pulled back slightly, catching her breath.

"Exhausted?" Wang Xiao grinned, his voice low, eyeing the faint exhaustion on Ji Xuehong's face.

She paused, nodding slightly before quickly shaking her head, unwilling to show weakness. Her lips twitched, still swollen from their kiss, as she tried to put on a brave front.

Hmph.

Wang Xiao let out a small laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Ji Xuehong blinked, a sudden wave of embarrassment flooding her as she realized he was laughing at her, or so she thought.

Her cheeks flared bright red, glowing like embers on her otherwise pale skin.

She looked down, biting her lip, flustered as hell.

Her smooth, porcelain cheeks had that perfect flush to them, like a flower that had been properly watered, blossoming in full bloom.

Wang Xiao grinned wider, the heat between them unmistakable.

Thud—he shoved her back down on the bed, his body pressing against her.

Wang Xiao's grin softened as he hovered over Ji Xuehong, her body pressed gently beneath his.

Her breathing was uneven, her cheeks still glowing with that unmistakable blush.

She stared up at him with wide, almost innocent eyes, her lips trembling slightly as if she were searching for the right words.

"Daddy…" she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy. Her fingers gently tugged at his shirt, her gaze lowering as she continued as if pleading, "I won't hurt anyone close to you… I swear, I'll only listen to you from now on."

Her words were almost too sweet, so soft.

The tone, the way she looked at him—everything about her in that moment seemed delicate, as if she was laying her heart bare before him.

Wang Xiao blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanor.

She looked so small beneath him, her usual confidence replaced with something softer, more tender.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with curiosity. "What's gotten into you?" His tone was teasing, but there was a trace of genuine wonder in his eyes. "What's this all about? Do you want something?"

Ji Xuehong hesitated, her expression thoughtful.

She bit her lower lip as she considered the question, then shook her head.

But a moment later, she paused and nodded, as if unsure.

Wang Xiao couldn't help but laugh softly. "What is it then?" he asked, his tone light but his curiosity piqued.

She lifted a hand, her delicate finger pointing straight at him. Her eyes met his, filled with something warm and unwavering.

Wang Xiao blinked, then burst into a wide smile. "Me?" he chuckled, his laughter soft but rich, a sound that filled the room with warmth.

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her forehead as he lowered his face into her hair, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of her.

"Didn't I tell you," he murmured against her ear, his voice low, "you can come to me whenever you want?"

Ji Xuehong's eyes fluttered shut, her lips curling into a soft, contented smile.

She gave a small nod, the tension in her body easing as she pressed herself closer to him.

"Mm…" she hummed softly, her agreement quiet but full of trust.

Wang Xiao smiled, his hand smoothing down her soft silky hair.

Eveline lay naked beside them, feeling the heat of their shameless interaction as if it was suffocating her.

She rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a sneer.

"You two make me sick," she muttered, not really caring if they heard. She shifted slightly, the cool air brushing against her bare skin as she turned her head toward the door.

Thud… thud… thud.

The sound was unmistakable—someone was slamming on the door, and it had been going on for a while now.

"There's someone banging on the door," Eveline remarked dryly, her voice cutting through the room with a hint of annoyance. "Or are you two too lost in your little love nest to notice?"