Hexpen

He was never meant to exist…

Riven Morgrave awakens in a world ruled by fate — a system that determines one’s class, power, and even destiny at birth. But Riven is different. Marked as an anomaly, born outside the will of the gods, he is cursed to remember every death he’s ever suffered, trapped in a brutal loop where failure is inevitable… and betrayal is certain.

Everyone sees him as weak. And that’s exactly how he wants it.

Behind a cold mask and feigned incompetence, Riven hides his SSS-Rank ability — Oblivion Mirage, a skill so powerful it can reshape time itself. His only goal? To silently climb the world’s hierarchy, expose the corruption of the Divine Order, and destroy the heroes who abandoned him in a life before this one.

But fate isn’t the only thing he’ll defy.

Beside him stands a rising legend: Ylira Faegwyn, a proud elven mage who sees through his mask. Along with a harem of powerful, dangerous women from every corner of the realm — a demon fire-wielder, a vampire sorceress, a beastkin warrior, a fallen angel assassin, and a royal tactician — Riven builds his own path. One cloaked in shadow. One forged in silence.

Masked By Fate: The Strongest Pretender

Night had fallen across the ruined city of Vareth, casting crimson hues under the eerie glow of the Blood Moon. The ancient structure atop the hill—once a vampiric citadel, now a silent mausoleum—stood cold and hollow, yet heavy with forgotten power.

Inside, Riven walked with slow, measured steps.

Candles flickered along the grand hall. Dark runes pulsed faintly across the obsidian walls. At the far end, seated on a throne of bone and silver, was Selene Nightblood.

Her crimson eyes gleamed like twin rubies, her expression unreadable. Long black hair spilled over her ornate blood-silk gown. A goblet of vitae rested in her pale hand, untouched.

"You came alone," she said, voice like a whisper carried on chilled wind.

Selene rose, each step toward him echoing with regal grace and quiet threat.

"You've been watching me," she continued, circling him slowly. "Learning. Calculating. But why come now? What do you want from a cursed noble of the Nightblood lineage?"

Riven turned to meet her eyes. "Your power. Your influence. Your allegiance."

She laughed softly. "You're bold. Most mortals tremble when they enter my domain."

"I'm not most mortals," he said, lowering his hood. The edge of his mask glinted, but his eyes—those piercing, anomaly-touched eyes—held no fear. Only purpose.

Selene's expression faltered for a breath. "You're hiding something far darker than you let on."

"You see it, don't you?" Riven said calmly. "The threads of fate tangled around me. You crave control—but I'm the storm that can't be leashed."

She stopped in front of him, dangerously close.

"Perhaps I don't wish to leash you," she murmured, lifting a hand to his cheek. "Perhaps I wish to gamble my curse… on you."

In a sudden swirl of motion, Selene sliced her finger across her palm. Blood—thick, glowing faintly—dripped down her wrist.

"Drink," she said. "And let the pact be sealed."

Riven reached out and caught her wrist. For a moment, their fates hovered between choices. Then, without breaking eye contact, he drank—just enough for the bond.

A rush of forbidden magic surged through his veins—ancient, seductive, and cold.

Selene inhaled sharply. The pact was made.

"You belong to me now," she said, breathless.

"No," Riven corrected. "You chose to belong to me."

Then Selene smiled—cold, sharp, and thrilled.

"Very well… Master of Fate. Let's see if your blood burns brighter than the darkness in mine."

And thus, the vampire sorceress knelt—not from defeat, but from choice—marking another oath in the dark history of Riven Morgrave.

Another piece of the harem was claimed under the blood moon.

The Blood Moon Oath