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antihero

ARKSTORM

"Was he a man dreaming he was a butterfly? Or a butterfly dreaming he was a man?" For a century, the continent of Laurasia has been a sepulchre of ash. What was once a tranquil expanse of kingdoms and emerald forests is now a Demonic Hell, usurped by the Demon Legion. Skeletons and carcasses are the only harvest in lands where humanity once thrived. Now, the few remaining bastions of mankind flicker like dying embers against an encroaching, eldritch night. In the heart of this chaos, within the high walls of the Capital, lies the Sanctus Sanctum—the supreme echelon of Mageia and the iron fist of the Magis' Guild. Seraph was the Sanctum’s ghost. A lowly orphan whose family was slaughtered by the swarm, he lived as a frail Acomage, bullied to the brink of death by noble-born magis who used "Mageia duels" as a veil for cruelty. After a ruthless assault left him broken and coughing up poisoned blood in a desolate infirmary, the boundaries of the multiverse fractured. A mysterious soul from a dark dimension—ancient, cunning, and lethal—has merged with the dying youth. Two fates, forged into a single, unstoppable entity. Now, the boy who once fled in terror has awakened with eyes that see the hidden truths of the world—one Gold, one Azure. He possesses a knowledge of the Macrocosmic that defies the ancient laws of the Magis' Guild. Seraph is no longer the victim cowering in the shadows. He is the master of a power that even the Demon Legion will come to fear. From the blood-stained halls of the Sanctum to the frontlines of the Great War, he will not just survive. He will become the cataclysm that ends it. The butterfly has awakened from its dream. And it has brought the Storm. (⌐■_■)
TDMarches · 23k Views

The Dancer of Blades

If you have talent, you will be called a genius or even a prodigy... But how about hard work? He was never talented. No gift, no destiny, no sect that wanted him. Only a sword, a stubborn will, and years of bleeding in silence while others soared past him with ease. They mocked him. They looked down on him. They called him talentless trash not worth the ground he stood on. He destroyed a sect anyway. In his final moments, surrounded by enemies, stabbed from the front and the back, betrayed by someone he trusted — He did not beg. He did not surrender. He laughed, raised his blade one last time, and carved his name into history with a single slash that split both a man and a mountain in half. They would remember him as the Mad Demon Blade. But history is written by the living, and the righteous never forgave what he had done. Now reborn in a small forgotten village with nothing but the memories of a life spent being stepped on, He opens his eyes to a second chance. Not for revenge. Not for glory. Not to prove anything to the world. But because he simply refuses to kneel again. In a world where talent determines your worth, your future, and even your right to be respected — one stubborn, bloodied, ordinary man will walk a path paved by nothing but sheer will and the endless repetition of a single swing. Because the blade does not care about your bloodline. It does not care about your destiny. It only cares about one thing. How many times you swung it.
JemLazyTired · 18.7k Views

Ruinous Love

**WARNING** CONTAINS SCENES OF EXTREME PHYSICAL VIOLENCE AND DISTRESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA● The heavy thud of the bridegroom’s footsteps echoed against the polished floorboards of the veranda. The pungent, sharp scent of wine mingled with the cold night air. Dazed and unsteady, he flung open the carved double doors with the reckless haste of a drunkard and stumbled inside. Hàn Yuè (汉月) sat on the edge of the bed, silent and with her head bowed. Her thin, white nightdress stood out in stark contrast to the darkness of the room, which was illuminated only by the flickering candlelight. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with every breath; she knew this union was no marriage, but a blood pact between two powerful clans. The groom cast a heavy, bleary-eyed gaze over her. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Hàn Yuè looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. A cruel sneer played on the man’s lips as he rasped: "I still find it hard to believe that… the unattainable daughter of the Lán (嵐) clan has fallen into my hands like this. Well... such was your fate; you had better get used to it. From now on, we are husband and wife, and we have got a long, exciting night ahead of us!" Without a word, Hàn Yuè rose. With a sorrowful expression, her trembling hands reached for the ties of her robe; the soft silk slipped from her shoulders and pooled onto the floor. The groom, his eyes glinting with arrogance, reached to untie his sash when, suddenly… The quiet room was suddenly broken by the loud sound of wood breaking. The broad blade of a sword pierced through the wooden door with unrestrained violence, passing straight through the groom's spine. The bloodied tip of the blade protruded from his abdomen, stopping directly in front of Hàn Yuè’s terrified eyes. Pinned to the door, the groom’s eyes bulged from their sockets as his body convulsed. A stifled, rattling sound emanated from his throat. Hàn Yuè covered her mouth with trembling hands and staggered back in horror. A moment later, the shadow behind the door pulled the sword out with a swift, ruthless motion. A fountain of blood sprayed from the groom’s mouth, splattering the floorboards and staining the girl’s white skirt. The man’s knees gave way, and he collapsed face-first onto the ground. Hàn Yuè’s long, piercing scream echoed through the cold air of the chamber, whilst dark red droplets of blood had left their mark upon the white silk of her gown. **ABSTRACT** Prince Hēiláng (黑狼), desperately enamoured with the noblewoman Hàn Yuè, finds his path to union thwarted by formidable political constraints. In his quest to claim her, he strikes a perilous bargain—a choice that irrevocably alters the course of their lives and unleashes consequences far more brutal than he had ever conceived.
Pouria_Zarrinpar · 25.4k Views