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Itachi Slaughters His Clan

Slaughter System: No Way Out

This story contains scenes of intense violence, bloodshed, and combat. Reader discretion is advised. They came without warning. Towering figures of intelligence beyond human comprehension, treating Earth as nothing more than their next slaughterhouse. Nuclear weapons? Useless. Diplomacy? Laughable. They didn’t come to conquer. They didn’t come to negotiate. They came to watch us die. Every male on Earth became a player. Every loved one became leverage. The rules were simple: Kill or watch them die. Win or lose everything. There was no escape, no surrender, not even death—the system wouldn’t allow it. Jiang Chen, a 24-year-old man with nothing left but his 16-year-old sister, Jiang Yue, never wanted to fight. But the moment the game began, he had no choice. Because in this cruel, ever-changing nightmare, survival wasn’t about strength. It was about how much of your humanity you were willing to abandon. The system decided everything— Some were thrown into arenas, forced to rip each other apart like rabid dogs. Others were given one command: Kill another player’s family before they kill yours. Hesitation meant death. Kindness was punished. The weak were torn apart first. Jiang Chen swore he would protect his sister. But in a world where every man is an enemy, where mercy is the fastest way to die… How long before he becomes just another beast in the slaughterhouse? Because in this world, even monsters don’t get to survive. Only the last man standing.
Akito_Kurogane · 1.9K Views

His Charisma

Kiefer knew when he had contracted the Weave. He would suffer incessant nosebleed, raging headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations and occasionally lose consciousness. Those were the major symptoms of the Weave. These symptoms would continue for what seemed like forever. Scraping away at his increasingly fragile mind, rendering every night more fearful than the last. -•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•- When the clock would strike midnight, his sheets could usually be found slick with sweat, sticking to his body and getting even more soaked. Kiefer would try to move his limbs but they never really responded. His eyelids were shut tightly as he couldn't even open them. He would struggle and struggle one too many times to open them but they weren't exceptions in whatever was happening to him. But his ears? His ears picked up every single sound that surrounded him. Sometimes, Kiefer would hear one too many voices speaking at the exact same time, that they began translating into bundles and bundles of gibberish. His head ached terribly and he could do absolutely nothing about it. Trauma. While his eyes were shut, visions of vile and rabid monsters would charge at him from caves and clearings he could never quite make out. Their eyes, bloodshot, their teeth more like fangs dripping with crimson red blood, trying so desperately to rip the poor boy apart. Trauma. Kiefer would now and then try his hardest to wake himself up from the turbulent nightmare but it really did seem like the Weave hadn't had enough fun with him. -•-•-•- Kiefer would occasionally find himself tethering on the edge of the narrowest piece of boulder on what seemed to be a cliff. Looking down, his eyes would widen and his face would contort with fear as molten magma thrashed turbulently just few inches below his feet, burning and scalding his feet repeatedly. Then, all too suddenly, the cliff would melt and Kiefer would find himself falling back-first, his hands fluttering in the air, trying to grab onto whatever came into his grip to save himself. A guttural scream would escape his lips and echo off the far walls as he plunged deep into the boiling magma. -•-•-•- He wakes up with a start every new day, his forehead slick with sweat, his nightwear damp and his hair even damper. Soon, Kiefer didn't need a diviner to tell him the Weave was out for his heart. SUPPORT THIS NOVEL TO KEEP US MOTIVATED!!! FOLLOW INSTA ACCOUNT @guordio_masetti
guordio_masetti · 9.8K Views
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