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Unconventional Exorcist [Harem/Horror]
My methods of exorcism aren’t exactly orthodox. I don’t banish spirits with prayers or purify homes with incense. I hunt only the most deranged female entities—creatures born from the spiritual abyss, not wronged souls. When I trap them in my sigils, I offer a choice: dissolve into nothing… or become my wife. Bound by ritual-love, they carry my children—hybrids of flesh and spirit. The darker their madness, the more I desire them.The attic reeks of iron and jasmine—the signature stench of a Blood-Maiden ghost. She floats above the floorboards, limbs twisted like broken branches, whispering lullabies in a language that scrapes my mind. My chalk circle glows beneath her, pulsing with every failed escape attempt.
I step forward, barefoot on the runes. No holy water. No chants. Just me, the knife, and the vow etched into my ribs. "You’ve killed seven," I say. "Tore out hearts with laughter. But you’re not mindless. You’re exquisite."
She shrieks, the sound cracking plaster. I smile. "So here’s your choice: fade into dust… or wear my ring, bear my heir, and rule beside me in the Between."
Her weeping turns to giggles. Wet, hungry. The circle flickers. She’s considering it.
Nakarana
works: 5
Father and Husband Of The Stone Ogres
Ten years ago, I was summoned to this world together with my classmates. Their stories? Typical isekai—heroic ones. But mine was different. I got the skill "Unassuming Breeder." Basically, it worked like this: the stronger and taller my women were compared to me, the stronger our offspring would be. I tricked my classmates into thinking I was useless, but I used my time wisely. I searched for the race with the strongest females. And here we are. Now I've become known as Demiurge, King of the Mountains of Stone. I have eight beautiful wives, and I am the father of many. My classmates fear my name, but they don't know that Demiurge and the classmate they laughed at are the same person.
Symphony Of The Trolling Necromancer
I don’t raise armies. I don’t conquer kingdoms. I don’t whisper to the dead about forgotten prophecies. No, my weapon isn’t fear—it’s *annoyance*. I resurrect musicians. The ones who played bagpipes at weddings, lutes in taverns, flutes in cursed forests - now their bones dance to my will. And their music? It never stops. It grates. It screeches. It drills into the soul. My target doesn’t know it yet, but sleep is a memory. Sanity is a joke. This isn’t war. This is psychological warfare with a metronome. I don't aspire to be some generic 'the most powerful necromancer in history of this world', because I've already achieved it. Now I just want to troll this world for the rest of the eternity.
Flame of Freedom
My ink-stained fingers tremble—not from fatigue, but from the weight of the last dispatch I sealed: *Victory at Black Fen Pass, by His Highness Prince Liang.* Another triumph buried beneath his seal. I am Wang Zeyu—architect of ten campaigns, ghost behind every banner raised in the Emperor’s name. And tonight, that ghost has been offered an exit. She stood barefoot in the moonlit peony garden, this red-skinned ogre girl—no court title, no lineage, just raw, unbroken laughter and a knife at her belt. "Come with me," she said, not as plea, but decree. "Your mind is too sharp for chains disguised as silk." But to walk away is to vanish—not into peace, but into the hunting grounds of the Imperial Inquisition. One misstep, one whispered name, and my genius becomes my epitaph.
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.