Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Dragon Ball Revenge Script

The Path Beyond Script

In a world where power and control rewrite history, a boy named Kasel , 18 yr old, lives quietly—unnoticed, abandoned, surviving through routine and silence. But a suppressed memory stirs, disrupting the fragile rhythm of his existence. At the same time, a mysterious 18-year-old contract—tied to political power—is quietly beginning to collapse,slowly digging at the layers of rewritten history beneath it. The story unravels a hidden connection between a collapsing 18-year-old contract and a rewritten history hidden by the government—quietly investigated by two YouTubers driven by personal loss. It travels across private choices, political currents, and fragile minds—slowly peeling back the mystery of a forgotten incident from 11 years ago. ___________________________________ At the center is Kasel—an unnoticed, introverted 18-year-old boy living like a shadow. Orphaned, quietly longing for love, he works in a small shop, enduring mockery and monotony just to exist. Kasel’s mind often glitches—brief flashes of a memory he doesn’t understand, one he’s learned to ignore. But when a stranger appears—someone he doesn’t remember but might be connected to it all—everything begins to change. This arc follows Kasel’s psychological unraveling and the slow emergence of his past and truth . ___________________________________ This is a slow-burn political–psychological mystery thriller about memory, identity, control, and power.
Verax_author · 3.1K Views

Script Walker

Her fingers shook,not from weakness. From the need to control something. Anything. Me. "I want them all dead," she whispered into my shoulder. "Every. Last. One." I wrapped my arms around her. Let her tremble. Not because I cared. But because this was where empires were born: not on thrones, but in broken chambers and whispered grief. "It's already begun," I said into her hair. She looked up at me,those green eyes glassy with heat and hatred. "You'll kill them for me?" "No," I said. "I'll kill them for *us*." She kissed me like a drowning woman. No ceremony. No coyness. Just hunger and rage tangled into something that barely felt human. And I gave her what she needed,not love, not comfort, but the illusion of control. That's what sex is. A chess move with sweat. We collapsed onto her bed like monarchs of ashes. Her grief was my weapon. My whispers were her gospel. And somewhere, beneath all the heat and hatred, she forgot that her son had screamed. I didn't. Later, when the candlelight dimmed and she finally fell asleep beside me,arm thrown over my chest like a claim,I stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene in my mind. Her son's death wasn't clean. It wasn't meant to be. It was a ritual. One sacrifice to awaken a world not yet ready. I opened my HUD. [Narrative Skill: Cinematic Reflexes - Passive Trigger: PLANNED COMBAT SCENE- EXECUTED PERFECTLY] [Event Branching Complete: Historical Rewrite Unlocked] [Villain Proximity Rising: The Scriptorian watches your edits.] Good. Let him watch. The Director's Cut could hide behind his twisted timelines all he wanted,this was my spinoff now.
Nà_thaniel · 6.9K Views

Script Of Ruin

"If you could rewrite the world… what would you sacrifice?" Daisuke Seiji never dreamed of becoming a hero—let alone a god. He was simply a folklorist, living a quiet life in a secluded village called Keredupan, where time moved slowly and the morning mist drifted like the breath of the ancestors. Amid the whispers of trees and the echoes of old tales, Daisuke found peace. He believed his role was to preserve stories, not create them. But fate had other plans. One cold and damp morning, he discovered an old book in the abandoned archives of the village library. The Empty Tome, he called it. No title, no text—just blank pages that seemed to wait for something. When he wrote a single sentence on its paper, the world changed. Not in his imagination, but in reality. Rain fell for the first time in weeks. A house that had burned down the day before stood whole once more. The tome was a tool of creation. With his pen as a weapon, Daisuke could shape the world as he pleased. He began to write more often—erasing people’s wounds, extending sunlight, curing sick children. The world seemed brighter, kinder—at least on the surface. But every sentence had a price. No blood, no tears—only something more subtle: memories. Bit by bit, Daisuke began to lose himself. The names of loved ones faded. The warmth of his first summer vanished. Even fear—something that makes humans cautious and wise—no longer lived in him. He was becoming hollow, like the pages he had once found in that book. Meanwhile, the world he reshaped began to crack. The city of Bronze Bastion, a bastion of civilization that rejected myth and narrative, began to collapse from within. Rationality could no longer explain a reality that kept shifting. And from the mists of the Mighty Forest of Death, forgotten and discarded stories began to stir. Failed legends and abandoned fairytales clawed their way back—demanding recognition, and revenge. Out of the shadow of that madness came a terrifying figure: the Shadow Scribe. A reflection of Daisuke, born from every memory he had sacrificed. It was the part of him that refused to forget, the part enraged at being used. The Shadow Scribe didn’t want to change the world—he wanted to erase it. He sought to write one final, perfect story: a world without feeling, without flaw, without humanity. Now, Daisuke stands on the brink of ruin. He knows that writing one more sentence might cost him the last pieces of his soul. But to stop writing is to let the world collapse under the chaos he created. Torn between the will to save and the urge to surrender, he faces a choice only someone with hope—or the courage to admit their mistakes—can make. In a world where narrative doesn’t just live, but hungers, a single sentence could be salvation… or the end of everything. This is not just a tale of imagination and the power of words. It’s a story about the cost of creation, the fragile line between human and god, and the scars ambition leaves behind. It’s about the courage to remain human—even when the world demands you become something more… or something monstrous. "This world doesn’t need a god. Just a pen… and a mad young man willing to rewrite everything."
I_Am_The_Bottle · 3.2K Views
Related Topics
More