- 9 ChsContent
- ratings
- N/ASUPPORT
{ON HIATUS cause I realised I’m better at 1st POVs instead of 3rd POVs} What to expect: •OP MC (Challenges? Yes.) •Romance-ish (Don’t read for Mwahmwah but for Bang-Slash; OOF!) •Cool Villains! (Cool)—>(sunlight reflecting off of glasses!!!!!) •Cool powers! (Cooler)—>(…just read the book bro..) •Cool fight scenes! (Coolest)—>(powpowpow!) •Geophysics that makes no sense! (i don’t like geography and physics!!) •Sadboi MC! (He still goes to school!!! \_[+m+]_/) •Multiple POVs! (MC is main boi tho!!!) •No unnecessary drama!!*~ \(^ - ^)/ ~* •MC with trauma! (Sadbois go hard!!) ——————————————————————————— |Playrooms| have started appear throughout the globe as prophesied by the Golden Child. Challenging and conquering them grants untold treasures and power at the risk of immense danger. Though failing to win in their games will lead to the emergence of a |Playhouse|. Heroes and villains abound, seeking powers and riches as many burn up as though a moth consumed by the flame. Those who wield supernatural powers now come to be hailed as “the Awakened”. Dangers abound among monsters and humans. And among them, the strings of fate continue to play their twisted game… *** A good captain sinks with his ship. A sword in hand, never lost grip. A lone shadow stretches out his sorrow. A company to his mate for a promised morrow. *** Meanwhile in an emergency ward of a hospital, a young boy could hear the voice of a nurse whispering to her colleague. "He was lucky to have survived such a terrible accident!” “I know right! Like...wow! To still be alive and living even after that….too lucky.” The male nurse replied in obvious awe after hearing the little boy’s story and the absurdity of the situation. "..lucky..." the boy whispered to himself. If anyone was to pay attention to the boy’s eyes, they would’ve noticed the mocking look in them as he looked at them along with a hint of lonely bitterness that shouldn’t have ever appeared in the eyes of a 10 year old. "I'm Lucky." he mumbled, as if to convince himself. Later that day, the child could hear his mother ranting to herself. "What an unlucky child! Wasted so much money on a small injury and now he can't remember ANYTHING! I'm so unlucky." Bowing his head, the boy sighed to himself as he looked at a rusted gold coin that shone with a peculiar gleam. ~~~~ Not my cover art Let me know if you’re the artist and want me to take it down. Check out my other book “Courage the Coward” (it’s pretty good tbh)
He forgot to do "His" laundry again.
"Why should this be his responsibility" he used to ask himself, but after a few of his so called "tough love", he's learnt that there was no point in questioning it anymore.
Tattle?
To whom? His mom?
What a joke!
Like she would ever care for an inconvenient, freeloading brat who only knows to list new problems to add onto the regretful mistake he was.
Life was never kind to him.
Unlucky.
That's what he is.
Life and his mother never seemed to let him forget this.
But all of this is besides the point.
"YOU LIL' BASTARD, UGHHH! WHERE'S mmMMMY LAUNDRY!!"
The boy could hear a voice bellow in a drunken fit accompanied by the slamming of the front door as the sound reverberated through the house.
He was always made it a habit of finding faults in everything he does. The man loves making him do his laundry cause it was the easiest to pick on, not that he needed a legitimate excuse to bully him. People like him always needed someone to bully to make themselves feel superior and better about themselves.
The stumbling of a man with heavy footsteps accompanied by the sound of a vase being broken could be heard. The man mumbled a curse under his breath. Even in his drunken-fit, the man could tell that the case he had knocked over was actually the urn holding his future mother-in-law! Naturally the man was starting to panic. Within a split second, he decided that the best course of action was to blame it on the kid!
"WHERE ARE YOU, YA LITTLE SHIT!"
His voice echoed throughout the old house, even scaring a white bird looking through the window. The only bright side to his situation was the man's unimpressive body. A body that had very little muscle save for beefy arms and the slight potbelly he sported would be more of a hindrance than help in this situation, so outrunning him was always an option.
Just where to run is the question.
He can't stay here.
The boy can tell just by the man's intonation, that he was most likely piss drunk.
And that usually leads to terrible results when he's angry.
There's no telling what he might do.
With a frustrated shake off his head, the boy grabbed his favourite book.
He had made his decision.
Run.
That was all he could do.
That was all he'd ever done.
That all he was ever good at at.
Running.
Not like an 10 year old uneducated child could do anything noteworthy against a man triple his age.
Leaving through the backdoor, the boy sprints to the pier in hopes of asylum among the crowd. The pier was always really welcoming unlike his "home". The boy could feel cold sweat rolling down his cheek, yet without even pausing to wipe his face, he continued to run with hope fueling him.
Though unfortunately, today he'd come to know that he wouldn't be so lucky...
