Apocalypse: The echoes of Madness

The first light of morning bathed the sky, calm and serene, as if the world had forgotten the destruction it had witnessed. Yet, in this fragile peace, Rose sat in silence, consumed by thoughts darker than the shattered world around her.

"Are you done eating?" Lily's voice broke the stillness.

Rose looked up, her gaze distant. "Yes, just resting a little," she murmured, but her thoughts were far from peaceful. How much longer can I keep pretending? she thought. I can't control my power...

"We'll begin the next journey soon," Lily continued, her voice softer now, almost tender. "Rest while you can."

But Rose could not. Her mind raced, trapped in a storm of doubt and fear. And then, as if summoned by her thoughts, Yuri approached, her face serious, eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

"Rose, there's something I need to speak to you about," Yuri said, her voice laced with urgency. She led Rose aside, away from the others.

"The thing is..." Yuri hesitated, her eyes flickering to the bracelet that encircled her wrist. Rose's gaze followed.

Without thinking, Rose's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Other than the five of us, did you give this bracelet to anyone?" The question hung heavy in the air.

Yuri's lips parted, but she said nothing for a moment. Then, with a quiet resolve, she replied, "No."

Rose felt a tightening in her chest, an unease that settled deep within. She reached into her bag and withdrew the prophecy book, its weight heavy with the unknown. "Have you seen this book before?" she asked, her tone cold, accusing.

Yuri's eyes darted, her expression shifting. "I—I saw it in Emily's hands... back at the facility," she whispered, as if the very name sent a shiver down her spine.

A cold, creeping dread filled Rose's veins. She didn't need more answers. In one fluid motion, Rose unsheathed her sword and pressed the sharp edge against Emily's throat. The world seemed to freeze, the air thick with tension. Everyone stared, shocked, as Emily gasped in disbelief.

"Why are you doing this?" Emily's voice trembled.

Rose's eyes never wavered. She held up the book, the pages glinting ominously in the faint light. "Are you the author?" she demanded. "Did you bring me here?"

Emily's face paled, her breath shaky. "I don't know anything about the book," she stammered, her voice breaking with fear.

But then, the air shifted. Emily's pupils darkened until they were swallowed by a pitch-black void. The world seemed to halt, suspended in time. The wind stilled. The earth itself held its breath.

A voice, not her own, whispered through the stillness, cold and malicious: "Congratulations... You've passed the first mission."

Rose's heart pounded in her chest. She opened the book, her hands trembling as she turned the pages, only to find them empty—blank, save for one chilling phrase scrawled across the center: The story has changed.

A cold dread swept over her, sinking deep into her bones.She looked up, her breath caught in her throat, and saw Emily's eyes return to their normal, human state. But the terror lingered, an oppressive weight in the air.

Before anyone could speak, before anyone could react, they all collapsed, as if some unseen force had drained the life from them. One by one, they fell into an abyss of unconsciousness, as if the world itself had swallowed them whole.

And in the eerie silence that followed, Rose stood alone, the book clutched in her hands, its pages empty but heavy with a promise. The world was not what it seemed.

"I am sure I've read this entire novel, yet why can't I remember?"

The game had only just begun.

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Rose walked beneath the full moon, her every step echoing through the silence of the night. The soft fabric of her white dress fluttered with the wind, but with each step, the hem grew darker, stained by the blood of battles fought and victories claimed. In her hand, her sword dragged behind her, its blade scraping the earth with a mournful sound, as if it too had grown weary of the carnage.

The moonlight bathed her in a cold, pale glow, but her once-pure dress was now a haunting shade of red, soaked in the sacrifices made along this brutal path. Her eyes, tired and empty, gazed upward, tracing the stars in the sky, as though searching for meaning in the vast, indifferent darkness. Her heart was heavy, burdened by the weight of what she had become.

She stood there, a solitary figure in the night, her spirit as battered as her dress. The world around her seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the soft, rhythmic scrape of her sword against the ground—a reminder of all that she had lost.

She gazed up at the sky, her weary eyes searching the endless expanse, as if the stars might offer some answer. Do you know what kind of world this is? she wondered silently, her heart heavy with the weight of it all. The world, so vast and indifferent, seemed to mock her pain as it stretched endlessly above her, offering no solace, no reprieve from the darkness that had consumed her.

In this world, where the weak are doomed to perish and only the strong endure, she felt the cruel truth weigh heavily upon her soul. The laws of survival were unforgiving, a harsh reality where compassion was a luxury few could afford. She had seen it all—the broken, the abandoned, and the sacrificed. In a world ruled by power, only those who could stand tall amidst the carnage were allowed to breathe.

In a world where humanity has contorted into monstrous shapes, driven by desires too vile to name, they have forsaken all that was once pure. They have become the very beasts they once feared. Now, as monsters, they wield others as mere tools—enslaving them, sacrificing them, slaughtering them without a second glance. The light that once defined humanity has dimmed, fading into a hollow, indifferent darkness. In its wake, a world drenched in shadows stands, where compassion is but a fading echo, a memory long forgotten.

The world had always been fragile, its balance delicate, as if held together by a thread. They believed they had built something unbreakable—a foundation of lies, cloaked in the guise of righteousness. They thought they could shield their illusions, their hollow beliefs. But I saw beyond the façade. I saw the cracks beneath the surface, the rot festering behind every smile, every empty promise.

In a world where each soul suffers, where each life is crushed beneath the weight of its own misery, no one should remain a side character. We are all born with a story, a fight, a will to rise above. Yet, those who are forgotten—the weak, the lost, the abandoned—are left to rot while the supposed heroes turn their backs and walk away.

In a world that has cast me aside, where the light of hope has been snuffed out, let me rise as the villain. Let me embrace the darkness, let me be the harbinger of change. If they choose to become monsters, then I shall be the greatest of them all—unyielding, merciless, a force that will not be stopped.

For those who abandoned me, for those who left me to suffer in silence, I will be the nightmare they fear. Let me shatter this world and carve my name into its broken heart.

Fate… Fate is not just cruel—it is a monstrous, suffocating force. It doesn't merely guide you—it dominates you, shackles you to a destiny that leaves no room for escape. It is a beast, lurking in the shadows, feeding on your hopes and dreams, ripping them away before you even know they existed. It is the weight that crushes your spirit, the unseen chains that bind your every movement. It whispers that you have control, that you can carve your own path—but that is a lie. Fate has already written your story in blood, and you are nothing but a marionette, trapped in its grip.

You think you have a choice? You think you can defy it? No. Your steps were chosen for you long before you took your first breath. You are nothing but a whisper in its cold, unforgiving world.

God,grant me power so vast, so unyielding, that I will shatter the chains of this tyrant known as fate. Let me rise above its relentless grip, rip through the very fabric of destiny, and carve a path of my own. I will make fate bow before me, or I will break it—whichever it takes.

Oh God, how I was wrong. Wrong for not being strong enough, for allowing my fragility to define me. Wrong for trusting a world that spun lies with every breath it took. Wrong for letting my memories slip through the cracks, leaving me empty and blind. If only I had known, if only I had seen what was coming—how vicious this storm would be. I would have built walls no force could breach, guarded every inch of my soul. I was a fool, deceived by my own innocence, swallowed whole by a world that never cared. I would have fought harder, been sharper. From the moment I took my first breath, the truth was buried beneath the lies, and I walked straight into darkness without even knowing.

I thought I was powerful, that I could glimpse the future and shape my own destiny. Forgive me for my foolishness, for believing I could control what was never mine to command. Now, I stand humbled, stripped of my pride. Grant me strength beyond measure, the kind that shakes the earth beneath my feet. Forge me into the mightiest of beings, a force so fearsome that even the bravest tremble in my presence. Let them know, in the shadow of my power, that I am not to be underestimated.

God, tear away the remnants of my humanity and forge me into the very thing they dread. Let me be the storm that shakes the earth, the nightmare that haunts their every waking breath. Take this fragile heart, this weak soul, and transform it into something fierce, something unstoppable. Let me be the shadow that lurks in the corner of their minds, the monster they cannot outrun.

I will destroy the very thing they want to protect—their so-called pewillace, their fragile sense of security. It will all come crumbling down. For too long, they've lived in a world built on falsehoods, pretending to be untouchable, thinking their walls could keep out the truth. But truth has a way of finding its way in, no matter how thick the walls or how high the towers.

Their heroes—self-righteous, blinded by their own morality—will fall, one by one. Each will crumble under the weight of their hypocrisy. They won't see it coming, won't realize until it's too late that destruction has already begun. The things they hold dear, the structures they thought were invincible, will be nothing more than rubble at my feet.

I will tear it all apart. Piece by piece.

I will be the storm they could never predict, the force that shatters their peaceful world. As the dust settles, I will stand among the ruins, not as a savior, but as the harbinger. They will understand then—the world they've tried to protect was never meant to be saved. It was always meant to fall. And I will be the one to watch it burn, the one who ignited the flames.

For all their lies, for all their efforts to preserve what should never have been, I will stand victorious.

And when it's all over, when everything they thought they knew is reduced to ash, I will be the only one left standing. The world will be mine.

And nothing can stop me.

"I will be the Lord of destruction".

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(To be continued)

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