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Samohtlord

Samohtlord

Lv2
2025-03-01 JoinedGlobal
-d

Writing

3.7h

of reading

168

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4
Moments
9

Erasing God: The Last Architect

I can read the source code of the universe. Every living being, every building, every law of physics — I see the architecture behind it. I can modify it. Erase it. In seven seconds, I could heal an entire city or reduce it to blank white nothing. I don’t do it anymore. Every use costs me memories. The last time I truly used my power, I woke up three years later without knowing who I was. Then a city of 340,000 people vanished overnight. Someone else has found the code. And he is rewriting the world in his own image — not out of madness, not out of hatred. Out of conviction. Because he believes, with arguments I cannot refute, that the world would be better without suffering. Without choice. I have to stop him. Every time I use my power, I lose a piece of who I am. By the end of this story, I may not even remember why I began. Maybe I deserve that. — Kairo Voss is not a hero. He is the man who decided that saving the world was worth losing himself in it.

Samohtlord · Fantasy
14 Chs

I Was Born a Clan's Bloodslave — Now I Cultivate the Heavens

In the Nine Abysses of Jiuyuan, cultivation is everything. Clans rise and fall by the strength of their bloodlines, and those born without talent are condemned to serve those who have it. Lü Wanyin was declared useless at birth. The clan's alchemist diagnosed her with Broken Meridians — the worst possible constitution, fit only to be a living resource for others. For years, she played the part : weak, slow, unremarkable. She fell down stairs at the right moment. She spoke with the vocabulary of a child. She let the clan's strongest cultivator believe he had nothing to fear from her. She was three months old when she carved her first Blood-Script Rune in secret. She was 312 years old in memory — a former Martial God, founder of an art so powerful the Council of Five Pavilions had ordered her assassination. Her own disciples had carried out the sentence. She had died on a transparent arena floor, watching the sky, thinking : I wonder what comes next. Now she knows. What comes next is patience. What comes next is a body that grows stronger every year, a cultivation system no one else can read, and a list of names she has carried across lives. What comes next is a cold, methodical ascent through nine levels of a world that has no idea what it allowed to be born again. No chosen one. No destiny handed down from heaven. Just a woman who remembers everything, calculates everything, and refuses — with absolute calm — to lose twice.

Samohtlord · Fantasy
8 Chs