The Oracle’s Silver-Eyed Vengeance

Reborn on her eighteenth birthday, Elara, the Silver-Eyed Prophet, survives the brutal sacrifice that claimed her past life. Betrayed and blinded by her greedy family for abyss power, she returns determined to avenge every cruelty.

Caleb, Arcana’s formidable executioner who spent twelve years searching for her, emerges from the shadows to stand unwaveringly by her side. Together, they face twisted family, scheming elders, and the terrifying abyss lord behind all her suffering.

Awakening her supreme prophetic power and claiming the ancient prophet crown, Elara shatters dark contracts, crushes every enemy, and seizes her destiny. No longer a helpless sacrifice, she rises as the unrivaled ruler of light—untouchable, supreme, and almighty.

I snapped my eyes open, gasping heavily for air. I pressed my hand hard against my left eye. It was dry. No blood.

The second hand of the antique wall clock ticked away. The calendar on the desk clearly displayed the date: it was my eighteenth birthday.

Drained of my flesh and blood, my eyes gouged out while I was still alive—I had somehow rebooted through death.

Before I could even process the shock, my bedroom door crashed open.

"Elara!" My father barged in. His tie hung askew, and this time, I clearly caught sight of the faint lividity creeping along the edge of his neck.

That was the price he paid for sacrificing his wealth to a high-ranking demon.

"The ticker," he demanded, closing the distance to my bed in a few strides and digging his fingers into my shoulders. "Give me today's ticker! I need a stock that will absolutely skyrocket, right now!"

I stared at the face hovering above me. In my previous life, these were the exact hands that had pinned my head down, forcing me to take the blade.

This time, I lowered my gaze, feigning the agonizing backlash of overusing my "Silver Eye" as my fingers clutched the edge of the duvet.

"Zenith Bio," my voice trembled. "Dad, go all-in the second the market opens. It will triple in value before the closing bell today."

Raw greed instantly erupted in his eyes. Without a single pointless question, he shoved my shoulders aside and bolted out the door. Sprinting toward his study, he whipped out his phone and roared, "Get my broker! Max out every ounce of leverage I have!"

He hadn't shut the door completely, leaving a narrow crack. Leaning back against the headboard, I caught a glimpse of a woman’s shadow slipping away silently down the hallway out of the corner of my eye.

It was my dear sister, Vivian. The bitch who couldn't wait for me to die. I knew she would immediately contact her underground brokers to short that exact stock at any cost, perhaps even siphoning the principal directly from our father's accounts.

She was desperate to prove that I, the family's "cash cow," could make a mistake. She was dying to watch me fall from my pedestal as the untouchable oracle and crash into the mud.

I made no sound, simply letting the shadow vanish. Go ahead and make that call, Vivian. I could hardly wait.

Barefoot, I walked over to the window and shoved it open. The crisp, early autumn air flooded in, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass from the neighbor's yard.

I looked down. In the adjacent yard stood a man I had never seen in my previous life. Dressed in a simple white T-shirt, he was raising a steel axe to chop wood.

As if sensing something, he paused his movements and glanced up at my window. Sunlight caught his blond hair. He casually wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and shot me a brilliant smile.

"Hey!" He gestured toward me. "Neighbor, I'm bringing you a freshly baked apple pie tonight!"

I just stared at him, offering no response.

Because my nerves were stretched to the breaking point, my "Silver Eye" had subconsciously remained active. Right at the moment he turned and brought the axe down again, my silver vision revealed the truth. The haze clinging to his white T-shirt wasn't ordinary sweat at all—it was a terrifyingly intense, high-tier magical battle aura.

He swung his arm down. But the blade never actually touched the wood. The air fractured first. Under that sheer force, the thick log was instantly ripped clean in two.

Caleb casually hoisted the axe over his shoulder, flashed me another smile, and turned to head inside.

The sunny boy who greeted me every time he walked by possessed unimaginable power. But I just yanked the curtains shut.

No matter who he was, the net I was about to close would be something not even a god could sever.

...

The second hand of the clock inched toward midnight.

"Ahhhhh—!"

A blood-curdling scream suddenly erupted from downstairs. I pushed my door open and walked expressionlessly to the second-floor banister. Down in the foyer, my father was writhing in agony. His exposed skin turned an ashen grayish-white right before my eyes, chunks of flesh peeling to the floor as he clawed at himself.

The contract had backfired.

"What's happening! Where are my funds!" Father coughed up a huge mouthful of black blood, thrashing wildly on the rug.

Vivian stood by the sofa just a few steps away, trembling as she gripped a trade receipt. Yet, the look she shot me was swimming with vicious, vindictive glee.

"It's Elara!" Vivian thrust her finger violently upward at me. "Father, her prophecy failed! Zenith Bio crashed, and your positions were completely liquidated! This fraud is trying to kill you!"

Father whipped his head around. His eyes locked onto me like nails.

"The demon is hungry..." Grotesque as a monster, he began dragging himself up the stairs toward me. "No money to buy my life... It wants... a sacrifice!"

He lunged, his fist twisting brutally into my long hair. I was dragged directly down the stairs.

"Since you can't make me money," my father snarled right into my ear, "then I'll just have to gouge out those eyeballs of yours to shut its mouth!"

He dragged me down the hallway, kicking violently through the door that led to the mansion's basement.

A thick stench of blood and sulfur instantly flooded my nostrils. On the brick floor in the center of the basement, a massive, dark-red magic circle had already ignited. A deep crimson glow swirled eerily across its lines, and faint, ravenous pants echoed from within.

Thud.

I was hurled ruthlessly onto the freezing stone altar in the center. It was the exact same place. The exact same familiar stench.

A hand clamped viciously around my jaw. It was Vivian. She looked down at me from above.

"Little sister, you were always Father’s favorite; he felt dirty even glancing at me." She giggled sharply. "But look at you now. What are you? Do you want me to plead with Father for you?"

Yet, even as she said that, her other hand raised a pure silver dagger.

"Before I beg for mercy, you need to take a little punishment. I’ll make it gentle."

Father's heavy palms pinned my shoulders flat.

"Don't struggle, Elara." Vivian smiled elegantly, though pure cruelty bled through her gaze. "It'll be over in a flash. You will make a perfect sacrifice."

The hand gripping the silver blade plunged viciously toward the left side of my face. I stared dead ahead at the descending tip, never once twitching an eyelid.

A faint smile curled the corners of my lips, and a streak of light rippled through my silver pupils. The frigid tip of the blade stopped abruptly, exactly one millimeter away from my left eye.