God of Havoc
Introduction.
Jeremy Volkov
"Not once in my darkest nightmares I've thought I'll be buried deep inside my nemesis, the source of my every ruin, destruction in my life after arriving on this island. The one and only, my personal God of ruin... Landon King."
Landon King
"I, Landon King, never once have thought that the big tattooed Russian mafia prince will be obsessed with me. I understand him though that I'm just irresistible, But getting his attention and becoming his possession? Nope didn't think. but who am I to not use this golden opportunity of using the almighty Jeremy volkov as my lovesick puppy, I'll use him, destroy him, ruin him until he becomes my custom made God of wrath."
Welcome to my new chat story.
First of all English isn't my language but I'll try my best so please ignore any grammatical mistakes.
And I'm writing MM for second time, First time was crap.
Now I'm going to Tell you about the story basic.
This is a fanfiction of characters from rina kent (author).
Jeremy Volkov- God of wrath.
Landon King- God of ruin.
They have their own personal novels and aren't the real couple but I really wanted to write about them as they could've been a fantastic mind blowing couple of rina.
This is a dark romance, Enemies to Lover trope.
Top - Jeremy Volkov.
Bottom - Landon King.
And It's my first Time writing this trope and genre, so bear with me.
Characters Don't belong to me, But storyline- plot will be mine.
Pictures aren't mine too.
I hope you enjoy my chat story.
Author Mikazuki.
Subscribe and Like, if you have any doubts, Ask me.
You can checkout my other stories for comedy and light romance.
Landon POV
This is not where I'm supposed to be but curiosity kills the cat and Today I might get actually killed since I'm standing in the enemy's territory, Wearing a weird creepy wannabe cool 'bunny' mask. For lord's sake Couldn't these American barbarians have thought of something better.
My gaze drifted sideways discreetly, No one aside from me seems focused on the sun’s ceremonial descent or the bold silhouette of danger this place is coated with.
On either side of me stand people wearing similar white masks with black numbers written on their foreheads. I was one of the first to be allowed inside the Chamber of Decadence and my number is twenty-three. I stand in the second row that has twenty people.
No, students...
There are four rows, and the fifth is steadily being filled by the other participants who’ve been directed inside the gothic-like mansion by burly men in black suits and grotesque bunny masks.
Slashes of red crack their masks at the mouth and surround the holes where their blank eyes show. But the part that made me amused was how the one at the entrance double-checked the invitation QR code on my phone.
I was so sure he’d figure out that I stole someone else’s invitation and
was trespassing where I shouldn’t be.
Still, I didn’t speak to avoid giving away my British accent.
After all, The King’s U is an all-American school, and we from Royal
Elite University are easily picked out from a crowd.
Especially one we’re not supposed to be part of.
Like this initiation.
The bunny gave me a hard stare, definitely longer than the one he
directed at the other participants, but he eventually strapped a numbered mask on my face and a tag on my wrist with the same number.
I had to leave my phone, keys, and glasses with his bunny friend before I was allowed inside.
And now, I wait, with about eighty-five others. Make that eighty-seven. I know because I counted. Since I'm a genius and actually here to gather information about these weird freaks called heathens especially their leader...
I also study my surroundings—watching, observing, and searching for a way out. This place isn’t designed with an escape route in mind. Once you’re in, you’re doomed. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
Landon King
(Well that's for others not me.)
This mansion belongs to the Heathens. One of two notorious clubs at The King’s U that simmers with corrupted power, infinite wealth and mafia ties.
In fact, the majority of its members either belong to the Russian mafia or have ties to it. All the students who showed up today are from TKU—except for me— and are thirsting after a smidgeon of that power. A glimmer of the monstrosity. It’s a privilege to receive an invitation to the Heathens’ initiation that takes place twice a year, at the beginning of every semester.
The chances of actually being accepted into the club are about one
percent. Not only do these types of initiations get brutal, but the founding members are also highly selective.
Safe to say, I’m not here for any medal or a real chance to get into the club. They’ll kill me the moment they find out who I am anyway. My sole purpose is to get information about their inner workings, their security, and to gather as much intel about their members and the property as I possibly can.
Now, the likelihood of my doing that without drawing attention to myself is probably about five percent, which is admittedly low.
A hundred students line up in five neat rows. Some are completely silent like me, others murmur and chat among themselves. Many are even joking, elbowing, and nudging their friends.
Everything about this place reeks of distortion. Some of that sensation has to do with the fact that the mansion the Heathens use as their compound is vast, old, has cathedral vibes, and could be used to perform satanic rituals. I'm sure they do... especially on me.
If I try to, I'll actually find a voodoo doll of mine stuffed with pins.
It stands tall with three stories, separate wings, and two eastern towers that I suppose are used for surveillance. A haunting quality flows within and around its walls in correspondence with the notorious reputation the club has.
Considering the fact that the mansion is situated off-campus, and therefore has more land than dormitories, it’s huge and, most importantly, secluded.
A large forest surrounds the property, but from what I’ve heard, it’s all wired, surveilled, and no other soul aside from the Heathens, or whomever they invite, is allowed access.
The double doors with demon-like knobs barge open and countless Men in bunny masks rush outside in a sea of terror. Not a word is spoken, but the combination of quickening footsteps, deformed sights, and the number of people involved is enough to make me think 'Idiot twats'.
They circle us in systematic order, their Halloween-esque masks serving as the only features they project onto the world. Thirty-five. That’s how many there are. And they’re all huge, burly, and definitely guards.
Because, of course, the members of the Heathens have their own
security. They’re mafia princes after all, with empires of blood to go back to.
Their parents wouldn’t allow them to go to university without security shadowing their every move.
The casual chatter comes to a halt when the double doors on the top floor swing open and five people dressed in black stroll out to the balcony. All eyes focus on them...
Author Mikazuki.
I am sorry if the chapter bores you but it's important to put details about the story and everything.
Landon Pov
Every face, every breath, and every bit of human attention is on the Heathens’ main members, who look down on us like we’re peasants.
Landon King
Motherfuck£r$...
I muttered under my breath as I rolled my eyes behind the creepy disgusting bunny mask.
Neon purge-style masks cover their features, each a different color.
Red, white, green, yellow, and orange...
And since it’s near dusk and cloudy as usual in England, the colors pop against everything black.
A bad pop.
A spine-chilling pop.
A pop that would make anyone remember those colors and masks should they meet them in the dark.
Static fills the air before a distorted voice speaks.
Unknown
“Congratulations for making it to the Heathens’ highly competitive initiation. You are the selected elite the leaders of the club think are worthy of joining their world of power and connections. The price to pay for such privileges is higher than money, status, or name. The reason everyone wears a mask is because you are all the same in the eyes of the club’s founders."
Unknown
"The price of becoming a Heathen is handing over your life. In a literal sense of the word. If you aren’t willing to pay that, please exit through the small door to your left. Once you leave, you’ll lose any chance to join us again.”
A door beside the big gate opens, and exactly ten participants exit with their heads bowed. The remaining ninety don’t move from their spots. After all, everyone came here with the promise of power and positions that would benefit not only their university life, but also their futures afterward. I would’ve left as well, if I hadn’t made a promise, but I did, and I need to keep my word.
The voice rings out around us again, definitely from overhead.
Unknown
“Congratulations again, ladies and gentlemen. We shall now begin our initiation.”
My attention slides to the five on the balcony—unmovable, silent, and intimidating without having to move a muscle.
True power isn’t shouting or issuing orders. It isn’t flexing muscles or showcasing weapons. It’s standing with utter confidence, like these guys, and knowing precisely that they have everyone here by the throat.
Landon King
(Atleast that's what they think...)
True power simmers beneath the surface, its energy almost bursting at the seams.
Unknown
“Tonight’s game is predator and prey. You’ll be hunted down by the club’s founding members. That will be five to ninety, so you have the upper hand. If you manage to reach the edge of the property before they hunt you down, you’ll be a Heathen. If not, you’ll be eliminated and escorted out. The founding members have the right to use any methods available to hunt you down—including violence. If their weapon of choice touches you, you’ll be automatically eliminated. Bodily harm can and will happen. You are also allowed to inflict violence on the founding members—if you can. The only rule is not taking a life. Not intentionally, at least. No questions are allowed and no mercy shall be granted. We don’t want any weaklings in our ranks.”
I sighed dramatically as the people around me glanced at me, What? It wasn't my fault that I was getting bored with all these rules talk like we are gonna play something so important.
Practically its just tag, just a bit violence involved.
Everyone’s attention, including mine, zeroes in on each member’s
weapon.
Red Mask’s fingers circle a baseball bat that’s resting nonchalantly on his shoulder.
Killian Carson is behind that mask Also my baby sister's, our little princess's boyfriend. Her knight in shining armour.
Landon King
(I'll kill him if possible, Tsk.)
Green Mask is holding a bow and has arrows with rubber points in a quiver that’s slung over his back. Gareth Carson, Killian's brother.
White Mask strokes a huge chain that’s draped around his hands like a snake. Vaughan Morozzov. I don't know anything about him though.
Yellow Mask has no weapon at all, but his fists are balled. Nikolai Sokolov My twin brother's boyfriend, The crazy unhinged Twat, I'm sure he's illiterate. But he's more tolerable than his cousin Killian.
Orange Mask’s gloved hand rests on top of a metal golf club that’s propped on the ground. Jeremy Volkov, Their leader and the one for whose doom I am planning all of this.
Landon King
(Of course I did my homework before descending on the land of these illiterate wanker American-Russians.)
Unknown
“You have a ten-minute head start. I suggest you run. The initiation has officially begun.”
All at once, feet shuffle around me, then everyone is running in different directions. I stare back one final time at the Heathens in their black clothes, neon masks, and unmoving stances. They watch the scattering of participants without a change in demeanor.
No reaction. Not even a flicker of excitement.
These are people who were taught to always stay calm—to bide their time, wait for opportunities, and never show their eagerness. Even when I’m sure the hunt is nothing more than gratification for them. It’s definitely not about accepting new members or survival of the fittest. There have been countless initiations in the past, most of them ending without adding any members, and no one knows anything about the participants who did manage to pass the initiation.
I Search for the one that I should absolutely stay away from. Scratch that. I should avoid all of them. They’re predators and I’m part of the prey, atleast today. If I end up being caught by any of them, I’ll be ripped between their teeth, Tsk.
I know I'm almighty but I know where to trade carefully and right now isn't the time and place to think about how I want to clean these pests.
My feet stays still for a second too long, a second I don’t have, a second that everyone else uses to run toward the forest.
I turn around and follow after them.
Author Mikazuki.
Finally Our Jer and Lan are going to meet.
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