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This Little Light Of Mine

Whispers of Light, Echoes of Darkness

After enduring a life filled with countless injustices at the hands of a merciless system, Alastor finally breaks free. But just as he begins to plot his long-awaited revenge, he finds himself thrust into a world far more perilous than he imagined—a realm shrouded in darkness, plagued by monstrous demons, where the only sanctuary lies within the hallowed walls of the Temple of Light. Alastor, sceptical to his core, scoffs at the notion of gods and blessings. Yet, without true faith, he knows survival in this treacherous land is impossible. His unorthodox solution? Brainwash himself into unwavering devotion. But Alastor’s mind proves more treacherous than any demon. The war between his rational side and his fanatically devoted persona spirals out of control, creating an inner battle as fierce as the external one. Irrational Alastor: “The God of Light is my guiding star and my life. I’ll protect his honour at any cost!” Rational Alastor: “Are you insane? The God of Light is a scumbag. Snap out of it!” Irrational Alastor: “Silence! He is pure and perfect and I won’t hear otherwise!” Rational Alastor: “Uagh! I want to kill myself.” In a world where enemies lurk both outside and within, can Alastor reclaim control of his own mind before he’s consumed by the divine madness he’s created? Or will his greatest enemy truly be himself? Alastor: You! God of light bastard, get your hands off me or else!
WingsofChaos · 1.4K Views

Little Light Lord [BL]

Gods rule over the fundamental creations of life. Lords watch and rule over these Gods’ creations. Phos, the Lord of Light, found himself cornered by a sharpshooter in the dead of the night. This unlikely encounter led to destiny. — The marksman needed to kill a kind, beautiful man. From the photos, his target had crystalline orange eyes and glowing silver hair that cascaded down to the floor in waves. But, as with everything, the real man looked far more lucent and stunning. Like a soft light, like the first glimmer on the ocean’s surface as the Sun arose. Before he could raise his sniper’s rifle to extinguish this ray of light, however, the beautiful target pulled out a pistol and shot him straight in the abdomen. “I hope you don’t die. Good day.” With that, he swiftly turned and left, disappearing into the darkness, his long hair bouncing to his every crisp footstep. Leaving behind the confused marksman, who, dazed, clutched his new wound and slumped to the floor. Later on, the marksman managed to act stupid enough to gain his target’s trust. Showing his true colours, he toyed with a lock of his former victim’s hair, which was as silky and soft as he imagined. He held it to his lips, raised a corner of his black turtleneck to show the bulletwound on his abdomen, and whispered in a deep voice: “This wound, how will you repay it?” The original target, who shined like a dim candlelight under the rays of the moon, stretched up his bound arms to the hitman, brought a gentle hand to his skin, covered the wound… and with an unapologetic, professional business smile, he replied: “I’m sorry, are you really sure you have a scar there? How come I don’t see anything?” The marksman: … It’s because you’re covering it. The man he originally had to kill, who wore white silk pyjamas and a flame-like orange scarf every day and who looked like he could fall over with a slight push from the wind, was actually very resistant—and really, really pissed him off. Cover Art: nonsang_08 Upload Schedule: Every 3 days
E_S_Sonnomett · 13.6K Views
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