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God Of Mischief

No internet, no phone calls, and no technology. All are disabled suddenly by a single cosmic event, The Carrington Event. With the arrival of this event, 22 humans obtained inhuman talents. So, with these abilities, would they be able to save humanity from anarchy? Or will they abuse their powers for their benefit?

Kyuseishu · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
32 Chs

XVII - The Hanged Man 4: El Grande Finale

Wait a fucking second.

In a moment of clarity, it hit me like a fucking bullet train.

All those breadcrumbs, all those hints, and here I am stumbling around in the dark. Blind as a bat, lacking the insight I need to see what's right in front of me.

Kichil's words replayed in my mind like an investigation audio tape.

If he could, he would easily find the contract while searching my head, but he asked me to guide him. You noticed that too, didn't you?

To him, my mind was impenetrable, like a quantum maze where you would get easily lost.

This dream, it's not his playground, it's mine. My mind conjured it up, and now I find myself caught in the middle of it all, with that damn parasite strolling where he shouldn't.

Kichil had me chained, halfway through scalping me, the Indian tribe style.

Pure rage, boiled up from the depths of my soul.

How could I let this fool even have a chance to inflict damage upon me?

This is my house, I am god in here, not him.

He is just a devil residing in my Eden, a serpent that I would soon cast to Hell, a Hell I will craft in detail to please his preferences.

I snapped one chain with a swift jerk of my hand, halting his movement. "Kichil," I growled, "you little shit, you played me, I give you that.

But now, I see through your shit illusion.

You're no god, just a slave of deception, and I'll cast you out of my mind like Michael cast Lucifer out of heaven.

I AM SEETHING WITH RAGE, AND I WILL SHOW YOU THE TRUE MEANING OF FEAR.

The lamb will indeed devour the wolf."

With those words, I transformed my body into a huge mass of worms and serpents, scattering the nocturnal creatures across the ground.

Kichil understood the gravity of the situation, he knew I figured it out, his heart was pounding in his chest as he fled with liquid desperation swirling through his veins.

He ran through the labyrinthine passages, seeking sanctuary in the depths of his own subconscious.

Perhaps there lay a hidden path, an escape to salvation.

But as the walls of the dungeon trembled and threatened to collapse, Kichil turned to witness the obliteration of his refuge.

A shiver crawled down his spine as he realized he stood alone, stranded amidst the ruins of his own making. And then, as if conjured from thin air, I materialized behind him, wearing a grin that spoke of pure insanity.

With a grip like iron, I grabbed his face, "Now, now, now little rabbit, where are you going?

You can't outrun me, Kichil. Not here, not ever. I am the predator, the apex of all that lurks in the dark. " And in that moment of revelation, I whispered two secrets into his ear, the keys to unlocking the mysteries of my true power and the location of my contract.

First off, my power's named 'Freak Show'—manifestation turned materialization. Any horror conjured in my mind springs to life.

The downside? Drains the mental tank, can't pull it off too often. But here in the dream world, my realm, there are no limits to what I can do!

I am literally omnipotent here!

Secondly, where hides my contract? Million-dollar puzzler, that.

Dumb yet cunning, I transformed it into the scabbard of my katana.

Crafty, right? No one's sniffing that out.

Now run, little rabbit, run for the exit, and shred my contract!

Kichil bolted toward his portal, his laughter a sinister symphony. "HAHAHAHAHA! You're too arrogant, feeding me all this intel. I'll tear your contract and be done with you!"

But what awaited him wasn't the real world, in fact, it was a Lovecraftian terror beyond the bounds of our world, something special I cooked up just for him.

His desperation had clouded his judgment, rendering him blind to the truth. There was no escape through that portal; it was a one-way ticket to hell, my hell. To put it plainly, that gateway led straight into his own mind.

We'd be deep diving into his dream plane, where I'd have free rein to exploit his deepest fears, to utterly destroy him. And oh, and I will take my time and enjoy it to the fullest. After all, time was on my side.

You know why?

Well, in the realm of dreams, time dances to its own tune, a slow and languid symphony that defies the ticking clock of reality. Here, hours stretch into days and days into eternity.

It's a place where one can dally, lost in the palace of their own mind.

For Kichil, this is where his nightmare begins. I'll break him down, piece by piece, like a surgeon wielding a scalpel with exquisite precision.

His mind will be my canvas, and I'll paint it with the colors of his deepest fears and darkest memories.

In this twisted theater of the subconscious, there's no escape from the horrors I'll unleash upon him. His sanity will fade, and his reality will blur until he's lost in a maze of his own making.

And when he wakes up, he'll find that the nightmares I've planted in his mind are all too real, haunting him even in the real world.

And when I'm through, I'll stitch him up just right and admire my handiwork—a human turned mere object, lost in his own mind.

Kichil emerged from the dream world and found himself right back where he started, but the thrill of escape coursed through him, setting his pulse alight.

With a swift cut of his dagger, he severed the bungee rope, victorious. His pride swelled as he stood over me, ready to claim his spoils.

Gripping my katana, he used it to swiftly behead me. declared his triumph, his words dripping with satisfaction. "THIS IS MY VICTORY, I WIN."

He spat, his arrogance on full display. "You got too cocky, you worthless piece of shit. Ripping your contract apart will be a sweet release, a moment of pure ecstasy.

It's like I've got the spirits of my tribe by my side, guiding my hand. I'm blessed by the gods themselves."

He bursted into hysterical laughter, the sound verbalizing through the alleys of Manhattan like a possessed man.

For a full five minutes, he laughed without restraint, consumed by euphoria and madness. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, he seized my scabbard and snapped it in two. And there, lay a torn-up contract, my contract.

Its pieces scattered like the remnants of a shattered life, my life.

Did The Magician lose?

What is he planning?

Is it all talk?

Kyuseishucreators' thoughts