Ficool

supernatural

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 · 281.7k Views

The Gospel Of Broken Causality

The world of Caereth survives on lies. History contradicts itself. Gods rule, yet refuse to answer certain questions. Cities stand where ruins should be, and everyone has learned—quietly—not to look too closely. Faith keeps reality stable. Ignorance keeps it alive. Aerin Kael is not meant to matter. Born in the lower districts of a fractured city-state, he grows up watching laws bend for the powerful and truth become a matter of convenience. He learns early that the world only works if you accept what you’re given and stop asking why. Then he witnesses something impossible. A man is executed in public—undeniably dead. That same man speaks to Aerin later that night. Reality does not correct itself. Instead, it allows both truths to exist. Aerin awakens to a power that should not be possible: the ability to accept contradictions without breaking. Where others must choose one truth, he can hold two—and reality falters in response. Blades hesitate. Consequences arrive late. Certainty decays. But power in Caereth is never free. Every use fractures memory, emotion, and identity. Gods take notice. Factions move in silence. Wars are fought not only with weapons, but with belief itself. And beneath it all lies a truth carefully buried—that Caereth is not a world created by gods, but a reality held together by containment, omission, and necessary lies. As contradictions spread and history begins to unravel, Aerin is forced into conflicts far larger than himself: between faith and truth, order and freedom, survival and meaning. Each choice he makes stabilizes one fracture while tearing open another. In a world that endures by refusing to be whole, the most dangerous thing is not destruction— —it is understanding.
Rex_Roars · 2.2k Views

The Masterpice In Marvel (Ayanokouji Kiyotaka)

Hello everyone! Really sorry for disappearing. But I came with a brand new fanfic which I think is a challenge for me as I have no clue on Marvel comics, but let's see! Speaking of this fanfic, we will be seeing Ayanokouji Kiyotaka’s mind in a fan's body in the MCU. When a terminal cancer patient with the analytical mind of the "White Room’s Masterpiece" wakes up in a luxurious New York apartment, he expects a second chance at life. Instead, he finds himself in a world where Stark Industries rules the skies, Oscorp experiments on the desperate, and the "Devil" haunts the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. But this isn't the Ayanokouji from the light novels—this is a man who possesses the genius, the cold logic, and the lethal combat instincts of the legendary protagonist, yet lacks his apathy. His first challenge? Navigating a life he doesn't remember, starting with a text from a girl named Gwen Stacy. Before he can even process his new reality, he’s forced into a brutal confrontation with New York’s finest, Captain George Stacy, proving that even without a superpower, he is the most dangerous person in the room. With a failing body, a mysterious past, and the Avengers-level threats of the future looming on the horizon, Ayanokouji must play a high-stakes game of shadows. In a world of gods and monsters, can a "perfect human" survive, or will the secrets of his new body's "brain disease" catch up to him first? The White Room was a cage. Marvel is a battlefield. Let the evaluations begin.
Sakuya_Hana · 581 Views