Lost Soul
I sold my soul the night my father died. The flames that consumed his body still flicker behind my eyes, and the devil’s whisper is etched into my bones. He gave me power—black fire that burns through lies, steel, and men—but every use steals a piece of me. Now, the ones who murdered my father are within reach. But I can feel it: the more vengeance I take, the less human I become.The knife in my hand is warm with blood that isn’t mine. The third noble lies twitching at my feet, his last breath a prayer I don’t believe in. My skin cracks like burnt paper, glowing embers beneath—another piece gone. I can feel Malphas smiling inside my skull.
I came here for answers. My father didn’t die in a fire. He was burned alive by men in silver masks, chanting a ritual I now recognize. The same one that marked my palm when I signed the contract.
A child’s cry echoes from the next room. Innocent. Uninvolved. But the power surges, hungry, urging me to burn it all down.
My hands tremble. Do I silence the past forever… or let the flame consume everything?
King Patrick
works: 44
Up System
You wake up to a world that shouldn’t exist—where floating menus hover above coffee cups and every person you pass has a health bar flickering over their head. The System Update said it would 'optimize human potential.' It lied. Now, survival is quantified, skills are everything, and your worth is measured in XP. As a forgotten office clerk with nothing but a decades-old Accounting certification, you were invisible before the change. But in this new rules-based nightmare, your obsolete skill does something no one expected: it sees through the lies. And that makes you dangerous.
Lucy's Eye
I told myself it was just business. That the way my chest tightened when Lucy smiled—really smiled, not the one she sold—was nothing. But every coin I took for her body carved another crack in my soul. She looks at me now like I’m both her savior and her jailer. Maybe I am. The truth is, I love her. And that makes everything worse.
First Wave
I didn’t believe the news at first. Just another drill, I told myself. But when Mark grabbed his old duffel from the attic—dusty combat gear and a pistol I never knew he kept—I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Lily was asleep upstairs, unaware that the world had just ended. Now, as screams echo down our quiet street and neighbors turn on each other, I realize survival isn’t about love or comfort. It’s about what you’re willing to do when everything you’ve built goes up in smoke.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.