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tragedy

Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Neva and Rhett—two young souls—find their heartstrings woven in love. But just as passion and peace begin to bloom, fate intervenes. Bleak, haunting circumstances scatter blades across their romance, threatening to tear them apart. Ishmael—a man with a heart of thorns—yearns to mend the wound of losing Neva. And in the end, rays of love and joy filter through the clouds of horror that darken his world—as Neva appears before him once more. Twisted fate entangles them all, revealing the Game of Sphere, as misery scorches their souls. A concealed life beyond turns its pages—one after another—gathering sin and virtue, tragedy and fortune, strength and frailty, creation, love... and hate. Illusion is where we live—in the garden of Eden before the fall of man. Illusion is serenity—an evermore sanguine of love. The vision of paradise in the New Earth sows hope deep in the soul. The delusory pleasures of this world ignite the flames that burn in oceans of fire. Illusive Eden is rapture. Illusive Eden is tragedy. The fall of man—even now bleeds red. The whisper whirls the dawn of a man—he who pretends to be the hero. --- The girl who once vowed to be his forever Now forbids him to ever appear. She refuses to recognize him, Disregarding all he ever was. He vows to protect her. Yet he is the terrifying truth she prays is a lie. He trips her, rips her apart— He's the living tragedy looming over her life. He once was her Elayne, now her hiraeth. He is the villain—pretending to be the hero. --- The Lord is the way— Steady through the wilderness. The King is the truth— Burning through the lies. The Father is the life— Breathing spirit into dust. She kneels before the Ruler, The God who shaped galaxies— He has called her a poet. Her tongue shall be anointed. Her poetry shall be the rivers of His word. She will scatter seeds in broken fields, And He will send the sun. He will send the rain. He will draw the roots down deep. He yields to the Ruler, The God of blazing holiness— He has called him a soldier. His fists shall be unclenched. The sword of the Spirit rests in his grip. He will shield the sower of the seeds, As storms rise against the harvest. His strength will be not his own, But drawn from the marrow of grace. This faith shall shake the mountains, For He has conquered the filth of the flesh. This flame will cleanse the shadows. For He has defeated the darkness. This love shall live on for eternity, For He has overcome the mortal world.
NehaPriaa · 294.9k Views

Anthroblade

On their eighteenth birthday, the System appears. A private question. A personalized Trial. Survival determines everything. Those who endure awaken as Anthroblades—living weapons who manifest aura into blades forged from emotion and intent. Aura can be projected outward to cut through flesh, steel, and structure. It can be drawn inward to reinforce the body against impact. The brighter it burns, the deeper it carves. The Trials unfold inside the Crucible, a sealed dimension where the System measures perception, suffering, and restraint. Some return refined. Others never return at all. Fifty years after the first awakening, the world has reorganized itself around Blades. Nations no longer wage open war. They cultivate Anthroblades as strategic deterrents. Governments fund them. Corporations sponsor them. Wealth follows them. Each Blade awakens with a fixed Edge. Some command a single element. Some cut space and traverse vast distances. Some project aura into impenetrable force fields. Some slow time within a limited radius. Powerful. Predictable. Stable. Peace exists because every nation knows exactly what the others possess. The balance holds because no Edge evolves. Until Henry. When he survives his Trial, the System records an anomaly. His Edge sharpens through suffering. His perception deepens under pressure. His aura adapts beyond its initial parameters. He is not fixed. He is scaling. For the first time in fifty years, the System has created something it cannot fully model. And in a world where stability depends on predictable weapons— An evolving one is not an asset. It is a threat.
Toupac_Tou · 942 Views

Zero Sum City

When a nationwide power failure shuts down the grid for exactly sixty seconds, most people dismiss it as a technical disaster. But one hundred individuals awaken inside a sealed, windowless concrete complex with no communication and no escape. Among them is Adrian Vale, a twenty-seven-year-old former civil engineering student buried under debt and disappointment. A digital screen greets them with a chilling message: Welcome to Zero Sum City. Only one leaves with everything. The participants are forced into deadly rounds known as Phases. Each Phase tests core human instincts such as logic, trust, endurance, sacrifice, and dominance. The challenges are built on mathematics, probability, and psychological pressure. In one Phase, players must cross a shifting grid of pressure tiles where one mistake eliminates the weakest statistical performer. In another, groups receive incomplete information, forcing them to decide who holds the correct solution before time runs out. As resources become scarce, alliances form and collapse quickly. Violence is not always necessary. Sometimes elimination comes through voting or simple miscalculation. Adrian soon notices something others overlook: the building itself is part of the game. Hallways subtly move, walls reposition, and the entire structure operates like a living puzzle. As contestants disappear, Adrian discovers the eliminations follow a disturbing pattern connected to personal histories and psychological traits. This is not random survival. It is selection. When the remaining players shrink to four, the complex begins a controlled self-destruction. Adrian must choose between winning the game or destroying it, realizing that survival and freedom may not be the same.
Sophia_Lerroy · 562 Views

I Became the Simp Character I Roasted Online

Listen to me closely. Never, and I mean NEVER, leave a hate comment on a game forum right before you die. My name used to be... well, it doesn't matter. I was a 34-year-old salaryman who died in the stupidest way possible. How? I got slapped to death for grabbing a high school girl’s "assets". Wait, hold on! Don't look at me like that! It wasn't my fault, okay? My hand just moved on its own! It was just a tiny, split-second intrusive thought! Come on, you guys reading this—don't act like saints. You’ve had those dark urges too, right? You’ve wanted to grab something forbidden at least once in your life, right?! RIGHT?! Anyway, she slapped me. So hard my soul literally ejected from my body. I thought that was the punishment. I was wrong. When I opened my eyes, I was in [Legends of Valtheris]. Yes, that trash game. The one with the cliché plot where the world ends because some teenage students get their hearts broken. And the worst part? I didn't become the Hero. I didn't become the Villain. I became Revan von Alstaire. The background character. The loser. The guy I literally insulted online five minutes before I died. I called him a "Simp" and laughed at his "Tiny D*ck." Fate is truly a comedian. Now, I’m destined to be the bullied lackey of the future Villainess, Sylvia von Vespera. The game script says I should lick her boots, accept her abuse, and die with her like a loyal dog. Screw that. Remember my last comment? "Revan is such a loser! Tiny dck! If I were you, instead of bowing down, I would squeeze her boobs and own her completely! Garbage character!" Well, it seems God took that personally. Fine. You want a show? I’ll give you a show. I won’t be a simp. I won’t filter my words anymore. I’ll let my intrusive thoughts win. I’ll turn this trash plot upside down—even if I have to slap every "Genius" in this academy to do it.
alvahraaaa · 27.5k Views