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Supreme corruption: I corrupt every good woman into villainess

As mentioned in the name theme of the story, the central figure, driven by a twisted desire for dominance, methodically corrupts impressionable young women, weaving a web of control that extends far beyond mere physical enslavement. These women, once vibrant and free, are reduced to mere pawns in his elaborate game of conquest, their autonomy stripped away as they become instruments of his malevolent will. What truly sets this tale apart is the enigmatic presence of the antagonist, the very creator of the story itself. Trapped within the confines of his own narrative by an ancient curse, he grapples with the consequences of his own hubris. As he orchestrates the downfall of his characters, he simultaneously navigates the murky depths of his own psyche, confronting the darkness that lurks within. The boundaries between fiction and reality blur, casting doubt upon the nature of existence itself. As the story unfolds, parallels emerge between the protagonist's struggle against the villain and the author's own internal conflict. Each move on the narrative chessboard reflects a deeper existential battle, as the characters' fates intertwine with the author's own quest for redemption. Ultimately, the story becomes a haunting meditation on the nature of creation, agency, and the profound impact of our choices, both within the confines of fiction and in the vast expanse of reality. In conclusion, an author writes a cursed story. The curse is so strong it consumes the author and he's getting trapped inside his own story. But he gets a chance to decide his character. The author chooses to be the villain who can never be defeated. He becomes the main character of the story as the villain, he corrupts good women into evil and makes them fight the hero and the heroines.

minatoflash · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
140 Chs

A dream

Bruce was running. It was night time. The night enveloped Bruce like a shroud as he sprinted through dimly lit alleyways, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the rhythm of his frantic footsteps. The torn clothes clung uncomfortably to his body, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded moments earlier.

In his trembling hand, Bruce clutched a meager piece of bread, his only sustenance in a world that had suddenly turned hostile. He had become a fugitive, pursued by unseen adversaries whose angry shouts echoed in the night.

The narrow alleyways of the city provided fleeting refuge as Bruce navigated through the labyrinth of shadows. Each turn, each corner, was a desperate bid to evade capture. His mind raced with a thousand questions, but the answers remained elusive.