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Man Money

God's Man

[Warning: Adult content 18+. Extreme violence, torture, and abuse.] "You are nothing but a toy—a plaything for the gods. Why resist the inevitable?" Alan's voice was laced with contempt. "For a man. For a woman. For a father. For a mother. For a son. For a daughter. For the broken. For the dreamers. For those who prayed and believed. I am their salvation," Hmu Hmo proclaimed. Alan's laughter erupted—Ha! Ha! Ha!—each burst sharp and mocking, amused by the man's resolution. "Salvation? No—you're their ruin. Their reckoning!" He seized the girl's hair, forcing her tear-streaked gaze to meet Hmu Hmo's eyes. "Death doesn't flinch before you...but—what about her?" —Schhhhrrkk. … They said the world is cruel and that the gods—or whoever is up there—are evil. But what is evil? Beasts devour beasts. Men slay men. Is the devourer evil? Is the slayer evil? Or was it the one who was devoured, the one who was slain, the one who lost? In every fairytale, the hero always defeats the villain. But was the hero always righteous and the villain always evil? Indeed, only the purest heart can receive the hero's calling or the blessing from the gods. But if the gods are evil, was it the villain who was called? This story follows the tragic lives of Hmu Hmo, Alan, and a dozen other characters—each connected to them in one way or another, or is essential to the unfolding events of the world. As these characters strive to achieve their goals, they may fall victim to the world's wickedness—or even become the embodiment of evil itself. They will accomplish feats worthy of song, yet commit crimes that make your skin crawl. As the story progresses, the line between hero and villain will blur. Was it Alan? Was it Hmu Hmo? Or was it someone else entirely—someone unexpected? Warning: This story contains graphic depictions of violence, including torture, slavery, sexual abuse, and self-harm. While these elements are not the central focus of the work, they are essential to the characters' experiences and development. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
TriYe · 27.8K Views

Extra's Money System: Money from Distrust, Skills from Lies

"Ugh... what the hell?" My skull felt like it was being used as a drum in some heavy metal concert. Every throb behind my eyes promised a full-blown explosion. And then it hit me—right. I drank way too much last night. Bits of memory came rushing back: a nightmare workday, my jackass boss dragging me to an “after party,” one drink turning into ten. Couldn't say no, not when a bonus—or respect—was on the line. I groaned and rubbed my temples. This wasn’t just a hangover. Something was wrong. My voice—raspy and strange—escaped without permission. I froze. That was my voice… but it didn’t sound like mine. I sat up too fast. The world tilted. And then—trees. Everywhere. What the—? I lived downtown. This was a forest. I staggered up, legs barely cooperating. The air was too clean, too fresh. Like sixth-grade camping-trip fresh. Then something moved. A lump of earth? No. It floated. Floated. Ding! A chime echoed in my head like a glitch in a video game. "What the hell..." Nothing around me changed—except a woman standing nearby. Calm. Like this was normal. She turned and raised an eyebrow. “You coming in or not?” Still dazed, I nodded and followed. Ding! “ShapeShifter ability added to the shop.” Shop? Then a robotic voice boomed in my head, smug and cheerful: “Welcome to the Distrust System, dear host. Your mission: gain distrust. The less you trust, the more you earn. Bonus: every time someone lies to you, their power is copied.” I caught one word. Money. My confusion snapped into interest. If there was cash in this madness, I was all ears. The woman finally glanced back, unimpressed by my staring. “Lost?” she asked, tone like velvet hiding a knife. “Me? Nah,” I said, smirking. “Still right here… looking at you.” Her eyes narrowed. Later, she stood in front of an empty table, once stacked with food. All gone. She hissed. “Was he fasting for ten years?!” Her stash—gone, devoured by me. Murder was now top of her to-do list. She glanced at me, slumped with a bloated stomach and snoring softly. “Disgusting human,” she muttered, already pulling a hidden blade from behind the wall. She crept into the room, raised the knife— Thunk. Right into the blanket. No scream. She yanked it back. Pillows. Her eye twitched. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” A voice murmured behind her, smug as hell: “You know, for someone planning murder, you’re really predictable.”
Gompank · 1.6K Views
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