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The Villain's Story

Three Souls lay in one body, One soul belonging to a man who had reached the peak, the strongest there ever was, the one who had the talent to do so. Yet he suffered because of his talent. His soul shone as bright as a galaxy once, but now is but a sun. His talents made him the envy of all. And He lost it all, tricked and manipulated from the time he was a child. The Second soul belonged to a man soon to be the richest in the world in his own universe. A man who had his face charred, a man who seemingly had every odd placed against him from the very beginning. He went against the family that abused him and triumphed over them. Yet he was left broken inside, He craved a release, and the first soul brought him that release. And he became a psychopath that scared the manifestation of evil itself. And the Third? The child born from their souls was anything but ordinary. Cursed with a fate no one wanted. Cursed with the fact that the Universe wanted him dead. He was born from Chaos And Ice and a fraction of light, yet he manipulated space. His abilities were so powerful they were harmful to his body. His talent is as infinite as the boundless cosmos. His enemies were greater than one could count. His luck is worse than shit. And yet, he continued to fight. Despite whatever was thrown at him, he would brute force through it or outsmart it, befitting the other two above. He continued to fight, not believing in the bullshit that was destiny. ---------------------------------------- Discord: https://discord.gg/Sgxw6QEsgE

Blazuku · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
695 Chs

[598] Hypocrite.(2)

"Vile...creature."

A celestial, different from the others of his fallen kin, stood alone in a field filled with their dead bodies, their blood having formed a river of harrowing stench, their limbs decorating it like dead fish rising to the surface.

The celestial possessed two pairs of wings, different from the lone pair possessed by the others. The celestial also looked to be of age. His appearance was like that of an old man, at least by human standards. He had a beard as old as time and hair as white as milk.

Aged wrinkles covered his face, evidence of the wisdom he had garnered during his life, but all of it couldn't help him now.

He was missing an arm, his cuirass was destroyed beyond recognition, his armor, once woven out of white silk as strong as steel, was reduced to rags.

He barely managed to stand, and could no longer use most of his abilities. He could not even lift his spear.