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Absolute Exorcist

Lifeless_leaf
Absolute Exorcist Every five years, a global exorcist tournament determines the hierarchy of the supernatural world, ranking those who shape reality itself. To ordinary people, these matches appear as simple street fights. But in truth, every battle unfolds across a hidden spiritual layer, where the real conflict is decided through the interaction between humans and spirits. In this world, magic is not freely generated. Humans possess only microscopic life energy, insufficient to produce true phenomena. Instead, they act as signalers, using chants and techniques to communicate intent to spirits, who execute the result. Most spirits respond with minimal effort, making efficiency, clarity, and timing the foundation of combat. From this, two distinct combat philosophies emerge: Battle Types: specialize in rapid execution, sending precise, high-speed signals to spirits, forcing immediate results in the flow of combat. Their strength lies in timing, output efficiency, and the ability to act within fractions of a moment. Support Types: construct systems, rituals, arrays, and artifacts that store energy and define outcomes. At higher levels, they no longer rely on spirits at all, instead creating structured rule-based frameworks that determine how magic behaves within a space. Power is not measured by potential, but by , recorded output, a fighter’s highest achieved performance and their consistency in reaching it. Rankings reflect proven limits, not theoretical growth. Yet beyond individual combat lies a deeper layer of reality. Spirits themselves are not static beings. They exist in shifting states, forming, dispersing, and sometimes gathering into unified entities when their ambitions align. These entities can reshape entire battlefields, acting as forces of nature with intent. What appears to be victory over such beings is rarely destruction, but the collapse of their shared purpose. To maintain stability, elite overseers operate within the spiritual layer, controlling the aftermath of battles. Damage does not disappear, it accumulates, delayed until the fight ends, when reality absorbs the consequences all at once. But the tournament is not just about rank. It is a selection process. Across multiple dimensions, other worlds operate under different systems of power. The chosen exorcists must represent their reality against opponents whose magic follows entirely different rules, where even the definition of strength may not be the same. In this layered world, combat is not just about winning. It is about proving which system, which philosophy, which understanding of power, deserves to exist beyond its own reality.
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A Necromancer's Guide to Clearing a Game Like Tower

Dublin, 2130. 18-year-old James Ganner has nothing—no money, no future, no escape from the slums that killed his father and broke his mother. Then the System activates. [You have been selected. Choose your designation: Challenger or Civilian. Selection is permanent.] James chooses Challenger. He enters the 72-hour Tutorial where 80% die. Against all odds, he survives and receives the rarest class in existence: Necromancer. But survival was just the beginning. [FLOOR 1] [Mission Type: Kill 15 Hobgoblins] [Failure Condition: Death] James raised his hand, black energy coiling around his fingers. [Skill Activated: Soul Drain ] The dying hobgoblin convulsed as dark tendrils ripped the life from its body, feeding his mana pool. [You have killed Hobgoblin Warrior] [Progress: 1/15] The tower doesn’t care about heroes or villains. 300 floors. No backtracking. No second chances. Death is permanent. Every floor demands blood, and James’s necromancy feeds on corpses—the more he kills, the stronger he becomes. His goals are simple: escape poverty, punish the uncles who stole his inheritance, clear the tower, and uncover the truth behind why the towers appeared. In a world where only the ruthless survive, can a slum kid with nothing but cold determination and an army of the dead climb higher than anyone before him? The tower rewards only one thing: those who refuse to stay down. discord> https://discord.gg/Tm5kJuXzf
Mr_Raiden · 519.5k Views

Her Comeback Was His Sentence.

After three years of marriage, Evelyn finally got pregnant. She thought it would be the happiest day of her life until her own husband’s hands pushed into hell her. Evelyn went to the company to inform Alain about her pregnancy, only to be met with the sight of him having sex with his secretary. Alain had betrayed her. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said, the three years of affection crushed like worthless paper. He showed no shame as he continued his affair right in front of her, under the guise of nakedness. “Fine,” Evelyn agreed. She looked proud and aloof. She swallowed the news of her pregnancy, holding it tight in her throat without uttering a word. But as she turned away, she burst into tears. She returned home, prepared the divorce papers, signed them, packed her belongings, and left. But on the way, Evelyn fainted because of her foetal derangement. A kind man took her to the hospital and left her with a beautiful wish. Other than that, she knew nothing about him. Five years later, Evelyn had a successful career and a peaceful life with her young son - Dennis. But one day, her son brought a strange man home, none other than Alain! Evelyn was stunned. Her ex-husband had returned, shamelessly begging her for forgiveness, wanting to regain her and Dennis. He wanted her to come back to him. But Evelyn didn’t agree. Despite Alain’s coercion, she refused. And at that moment, “he” suddenly appeared, unexpectedly and silently as he did five years ago. He pulled her up from the depths and slapped her ex-husband directly in the face with one sentence: “You’re not worthy of her.” ... Umee: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.
Umee_uuuuuuw · 70.5k Views

Royal Secret: I'm a Princess!

After living as a famous Korean vlogger-slash-mukbanger, Neoma died a (shameful) death and regressed to her tragic first life--- the life where she has to live as a hidden princess with a tyrannical father and a yandere twin brother. She died at the hands of her psycho brother in her first life. But luckily, she charmed her "big brother" this time. Her father remains a sc*mbag, though. But a blessing in disguise happened when her twin brother got "sick." Because of that, she has to pretend as the "Crown Prince," forcing her father to treat her well. She thought she was finally on the road to becoming a lady of leisure. But, despite her laziness, she still ends up completing royal duties that put her closer to the throne than her sick twin brother. The next thing she knew, they already prophesied her to be the first empress of their very patriarchal empire. Now Neoma finds herself in the middle of the succession war she never wanted to be involved in! *** [EXCERPT 1] “Neoma de Moonasterio, the first princess of Moonasterion Empire. From now on, you’ll live as Prince Nero’s proxy.” [The hell is this psycho saying?] Neoma, despite her confusion, still smiled at her father--- the emperor. “Father, what do you mean by that?” “From now on, assassins sent by my enemies would target Nero,” the emperor explained. “Until he’s strong enough to protect himself, you’ll pose as your twin brother.” Her smile froze, but she still acted innocent. “But Father. If I take my brother’s position, then wouldn’t the assassins mistake me for him and…” She stopped talking when she realized that was exactly what the emperor wanted her to do. [This sc*mbag wants me to be bait?!] “You’re no longer a princess, Neoma de Moonasterio. From now on, you’ll live as Prince Nero de Moonasterio,” Emperor Nikolai said coldly while looking down at her with glowing red eyes. “Try to survive until your twin brother comes back to take his rightful place, understood?” Neoma was too shocked to react. [Are you f*cking kidding me, you sc*mbag?!] *** [ORIGINAL BOOK COVER. Artwork by sola_cola.] *** [EXCERPT 2] “I’m so sick of your tyrannical a*s,” Neoma yelled at her father aka the emperor. “I won’t forgive you for hurting Lewis and Tteokbokki!” “What will you do about it then?” Nikolai asked with a smirk. “Kill me?” “Yes! I’ll f*cking kill you, sc*mbag!” “Language,” he warned her, upset that his five-year-old daughter curses like a sailor. “Using vulgar words is unbecoming of the future Crown Prince.” “I’m a princess!” Upon yelling those words, the royal princess’s eye color changed from ash-gray to red. [This is getting serious.] “Stop it, Nero,” Nikolai told her sternly. “If you keep that up, the royal knights will come and–” “I’m not Nero!” Neoma screeched angrily. Then she jumped in the air with her left fist, ready to punch him. “In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!” [What…?] And Princess Neoma, pretending as the Crown Prince for her sick twin brother, punched Emperor Nikolai, her father, in the face.
sola_cola · 5.8m Views