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Destral Heir: The Rise of Collin Clan

RoselineJoy
28
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 28 chs / week.
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Synopsis
He died betrayed by the two people he trusted most. The world thought Jonathan Collin was finished. But death was only the beginning. Murdered by his wife and boss, Jonathan awakens beneath the ocean and was reborn by a mysterious Destral Core sealed within his chest. Hunted by shadowy forces and dragged into a hidden world of powerful clans, corrupted enforcers, and ancient conspiracies, Jonathan discovers the truth, he is the lost heir of the richest and most dangerous bloodline in the West. As his power awakens, so do the enemies who planned his death. The betrayal that killed him was part of a far darker ritual. And the war he never knew existed is coming for him next. Revenge calls. Power answers. But if Jonathan fully awakens… will he still be human? Betrayal. Rebirth. Ascension. A modern cultivation thriller where death unlocks destiny and vengeance forges a sovereign.
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Chapter 1 - chapter 1

The office lights buzzed overhead like dying fireflies, flickering as if they too were running on fumes. Johnathan Collin rubbed his burning eyes and hit ENTER one last time, sending off the final revision of a project that should've taken a team, yet Horizon Corporation only trusted him to do everyone's work.

At exactly 6:42 p.m., the notification popped up: SUBMISSION SUCCESSFUL.

He didn't celebrate. He simply exhaled. His shoulders slumped, pain crawling down his spine like cold fingers. The office was almost empty, the few remaining employees pretending they weren't waiting for him to finish before they could leave. Johnathan saved them the awkwardness and stood slowly.

"Collin finally killed himself for the deadline," someone whispered from the cubicles.

Another chuckled. "Guy works like a robot. Bet his wife loves that salary more than she loves him."

Johnathan pretended not to hear. He always pretended.

He grabbed his worn-out briefcase and shrugged into his coat. When he reached the door, his boss, Lex Mark, leaned out of his office with a smug grin.

"Good job, Collin . You just saved us millions," Lex said, voice rich with casual arrogance. "Take tomorrow off. Don't die on me before the next quarter."

Johnathan nodded. He mumbled something polite and walked out before Lex could catch the tremor in his hands. The man loved compliments, but not enough to give Johnathan a raise. Never enough to give him a life.

Outside, the air tasted like salty wind. The ocean cliffs beyond the building glimmered under the setting sun, waves slamming hard against the rocks like something trying to break free. Johnathan stood there for a moment, listening. It was the same route he walked every day, the same sea that had watched him drag himself to work for years. Yet tonight, felt different and tight.

His chest squeezed unexpectedly, a sharp pressure that made him wince. It wasn't pain, exactly… just a weight. Like something dormant waking up only to remind him it existed.

He pressed his palm against the center of his chest. It throbbed once, then settled.

Stress, he told himself. Just stress.

A familiar thought prodded at him, he had been feeling this strange heaviness since childhood. Especially when he was overwhelmed or angry. But doctors always said he was healthy. Normal. Nothing wrong.

Johnathan believed them. Believing made life easier.

He pushed the sensation aside and turned down the street. On impulse, he crossed the road to a flower shop. His wife, Marie, had been complaining that they didn't go out enough. She said he wasn't "romantic." So tonight, he would try. He'd surprise her. Maybe they'd go to dinner, maybe laugh like they used to, before debt and long hours ate their marriage whole.

He chose white lilies, Marie's favorite. He remembered how she once claimed they smelled like a fresh start. Maybe tonight could be one of those night, if they both tried.

As he walked, he passed by the cliffs again. A cold wind shoved at him, harsh and unpredictable. The waves rose higher, crashing harder as if screaming a warning he couldn't understand.

Don't go home. Turn back.

Johnathan tightened his grip on the flowers. He didn't believe in signs but believed in effort.

The city noise faded as he neared his apartment. His building towered above him beautifully, expensive, suffocating. They couldn't afford it, but Marie insisted it would "inspire him to succeed." She wanted to live among the rich. Johnathan wanted to make her happy.

The elevator chimed softly. He stepped inside, heart lighter than usual, hopeful even. He imagined Marie smiling, maybe hugging him. Maybe amazed he came home before midnight for once.

We could fix us, he thought. If we try.

The elevator stopped. Johnathan stepped into the silent hallway. His shoes clicked against the floor, echoing too loudly. He unlocked the door.

The moment it swung open, something felt wrong.

Shoes on the floor. Heels. A jacket too fancy to belong to him. The room smelled of expensive cologne….not his.

Wine glasses gathered on the counter, one tipped over, red bleeding across marble. Clothes scattered near the couch, trailing like breadcrumbs toward the hallway.

The flowers shook slightly in his hand.

"Marie?" he called out.

No answer.

The apartment wasn't messy… it was used.

A high-pitched laugh floated from the bedroom very soft, breathy, intimate. Followed by a low voice. The laughter wasn't shocked, embarrassed, or defensive. It was… familiar. Comfortable. The way Marie didn't laugh with him anymore.

Jonathan's pulse hammered. The pressure in his chest returned, stronger. He tried to breathe, but each inhale scraped like sharp ice. His heart wasn't just beating, it was reacting.

Something ancient stirred beneath his ribs, a faint rhythmic vibration. As if responding to his emotions. As if waking up.

He stumbled forward, quiet despite the shaking in his knees. His hand brushed the wall for balance. The hallway felt longer than usual, darker than usual, twisting like a tunnel where he was being pulled to a truth he didn't want.

The bedroom door was half-open.

From inside came rhythmic sounds, unmistakable, painfully human.

Johnathan swallowed, throat tight, tasting metal. He could still walk away. Pretend. Ignore. Save himself from seeing what would destroy him.

But he moved anyway.

His fingers, cold and trembling, pushed against the edge of the door. The pressure in his chest turned sharp, expanding like a crack through stone.

And then, something inside him pulsed, a brief flash of heat under his skin, like a spark looking for air.

Jonathan's breath hitched.

His heart wasn't pounding from heartbreak.

It was awakening.

As the door creaked open, the strange force under his ribs thrummed violently, reacting to betrayal the way flames react to oxygen.

hungry.

The door opened inch by inch.

Johnathan stepped into the moment that would shatter his life.