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Sao Alicization Alice And Asuna

Alice [REDACTED]

Ever wonder who writes the story of your life? No, not the author of this little synopsis (that’s me, by the way, hey there). I mean the big one—the all-seeing, all-knowing, slightly bored half-deity who probably thinks tragedy is an art form. Yeah, that one. She goes by the name Prometheus. This? This story is her absolute favorite—a killer she simply calls "Alisha." Why her favorite? Well, Prometheus has penned quite a few stories, even gave birth to her own duology (coming soon, don’t miss it), but Alisha? Oh, she’s something else. Betrayal, bloody battles, an identity crisis so deep it’ll pull you in (don’t even try to deny it). It’s a masterpiece in the making. But here’s the kicker: Prometheus didn’t just create Alisha. Oh no, she’s still writing her. Every step she takes, every bullet she fires, every question she asks about this so-called "real" world—it’s all me. Or at least, it was. Here’s the problem, though. Alisha is starting to... notice. She’s getting wise to the fact that her life isn’t hers, that her world is a little *too* convenient, and that her big mission? It’s not just about taking down the Prince who wants to rule the world—it’s about finding me. And let me tell you, reader, I’m equal parts terrified and exhilarated. So, here’s where you come in. As Alisha races through the shadows, pulling at the loose threads of her reality—and my divine little plot—she’s getting dangerously close to breaking out of this story altogether. If she finds me? Well... let’s just say the line between creator and creation might start to look a whole lot blurrier than either of us is comfortable with. But hey, it’s all part of the narrative. Probably. Shall we turn the page? Or should I rewrite Alisha out of this story before things get... a little too complicated? ~Prometheus
mingsthighhighs · 3.6K Views

Remembrance And Recollection

Wishes are subjective, and those who are reborn are nothing but hypocrites unworthy of the first. Words crumble to ashes, and memories of their origins resonate within fractured bodies. Amid a dream that is no mere illusion but a radiant illumination, shadows grow deeper, and the truth reveals itself, a child’s dream begins. I woke up in a world of uncertainty, a realm twisted and cruel, where swords clash, blood stains the ground, and monstrous beasts stalk the living. Flying ships drift above boundless chains that shackle the sky, while wars rage endlessly with weapons both ancient and unknown. It’s a place where beauty and terror coexist, where joy flickers like a fragile flame before being consumed by shadow. I am Celm, a man whose memories feel like shards of glass, fractured, distant, and painful. I don’t know who I truly am or why this world feels both alien and hauntingly familiar. The forsaken lands around me pulse with disasters and despair, as people endure a cycle of torment they cannot escape. And yet, hidden within this chaos lies a haunting beauty, a world that shifts and bends under the weight of forgotten truths. In this labyrinth of suffering and wonder, whispers of the Forsaken World linger, a place where the truth is absolute, where the laws of other realms erode, and where even gods lose their divinity. Every step I take feels like a descent into something deeper, a dream interwoven with reality and riddled with secrets. What is my place in this nightmare? What lies at the heart of a dream so vivid it burns brighter than light itself? I don’t know where the path leads, but I do know one thing: the truth, however unbearable, cannot be avoided forever.
preachingBombs · 8K Views
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