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Clarence Slumber Party

"The third party does not want to love again."

Aurora’s eyes blazed with anger, her voice breaking between the tears she had tried in vain to hold back. “I thought I would forget your past love for you, but I was wrong! You are the one who chose to remain trapped in the past, refusing to see the one who truly loves you!” Kyle, despite his outward calm, was burning inside. Guilt gnawed at his heart, yet he said nothing. Aurora cried out bitterly: “She is happy now, living her life with the one she loves, with her husband and children! She never saw you as more than a brother and a friend!” He couldn’t take it anymore. Stepping toward her in anger, his voice was sharp as a blade: “Shut your mouth. I don’t want to talk about this again!” Then, coldly, he added: “Go home. I’ll send your father a letter of apology and end this engagement.” Aurora stood still for a moment, her eyes filled with pain before she whispered in a choked voice: “Don’t bother… I will send the letter to my family myself. And don’t worry, I won’t tell them that you were the one who wanted to end it.” She cast him one last broken glance before turning away, leaving behind nothing but the sound of her fading footsteps, her silent tears, and a shattered heart… A week passed. Then, the phone rang. Kyle answered coldly: “Yes, who is this?” A trembling voice came from the other end—it was Lady Valeska, filled with concern: “Is Aurora alright? She hasn’t called us all week…” His heart pounded violently in his chest as panic surged through him. No… No… No. I can’t lose her! Will this love find a happy ending, or will it remain one-sided forever?
Nen_ai · 466 Views

The Hero's Party Betrayed Me, So I Became a Dungeon Master

--WSA 2025 ENTRY-- Cale was the Hero. The savior of nations, the one destined to triumph over evil. With a party of trusted allies, he defeated the Demon King, he stood at the pinnacle of fame and glory. But when the time came to share the spoils of victory, he learned a cruel truth: His so-called allies, Aelira the gentle healer, Rhogar the steadfast tank, Jorin the playful rogue, and Velena the wise mage, were anything but. "You’re a relic of the past, Cale," they sneered. "We don’t need a Hero in this new world." Betrayed, seen as a dispensable tool. He found himself being pulled into a swirling void, and plummeted into darkness. But fate had other plans. Cale awakened to an ancient power deep within the Abyss: the Dungeon Master System. It whispered promises of revenge, survival, and power unlike anything he’d known before. "Become the hunter, not the hunted. Build a dungeon. Grow stronger. Conquer those who betrayed you." And so began Cale's transformation. From the ashes of betrayal, he emerged no longer just a Hero, but a Dungeon Master, a being capable of building monstrous lairs, commanding terrifying creatures, and a potential to create even worlds, he had the power to devour anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But this new change is unforgiving, and Cale is now a player in a larger, deadlier game, one with ancient factions, and secrets powerful enough to shake the foundations of reality itself. When the hunters become the hunted, when mortals seek to challenge monsters, who will prevail? The Hero is dead. The Dungeon Master rises.
MonarchOfInk · 7.9K Views

Slumbering Sloth

In a world where the powerful ruled with an iron fist, one boy was dealt the worst cards—first by fate, then by the world, and finally by an Outer God. With each passing moment, he spiraled deeper into a reality determined to break him. One day, as the pool of blood bubbled and rumbled in an ancient temple of malignance, a young man emerged from the depths. Beasts roared in a twisted symphony, and his body radiated a bloody strength that no one could contain. He paused, a thought crossing his mind as he got out from the blood pool: "I'm really not a Demon." One day, as the massive corpse of a dragon lay idle, it shriveled, losing all its grandeur and dignity. Its desecrated body pulsed with dark energy, and from its stomach erupted a sharp, tyrannical sword aura, cutting through the air with lethal precision. A figure emerged, his black robe now stained blood red, his blood-red vertical eyes gleaming with a demonic fire. As he stood, surrounded by the lingering aura of death, he thought, "I’m really not a Demon." One day, when the Blood Moon shone in all its glory, and the Demon Sect was at its peak, the Gates of the Demon Sect were shattered, and their Sect Halls lay in ruin. In the heart of their Demonic Lands, signs of a cataclysmic battle were evident. Corpses, scattered like broken dolls, piled upon each other to form a massive mound. Atop this heap of death sat a figure, calm and unperturbed, bathed in moonlight. His four eyes scanned the surroundings, and after a moment of contemplation, he thought rationally, "I only killed Demons, so that doesn’t really make me a Demon."
A_N_V · 9.3K Views
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