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Warden Of Chaos

Tác giả: Cameo_Andrew
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Tóm tắt

Z was born into darkness—both literal and metaphorical. Blind yet cursed with an uncanny ability, he’s a survivor in a world teetering on the edge of madness. After a catastrophic encounter with destruction left him scarred, Z became bound to the Ladder, a nightmarish construct governed by gods, entities, and unnameable existences. The rules are simple: climb or perish. Each rung brings Z closer to unfathomable truths—and further into danger. Among Climbers with extraordinary powers and sinister agendas, Z must move in treacherous alliances, decode the cryptic whispers of the gods, and face scenarios designed to test the limits of sanity. But as lies swirl and the unknown beckons, Z realizes something darker than survival lies at the Ladder’s peak: an answer to the scars he bears, the truth of his cursed path, and a confrontation with the incomprehensible forces pulling the strings. In a world where trust is as fleeting as the air you breathe, Z must embrace the Chaos within to become what he was destined to be—the Warden of Chaos. Enter a realm where lies are currency, and survival is the ultimate gamble.

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Chapter 1Prologue

Z didn't remember the pain. Not really. Pain, he had learned, was fleeting. What stayed were the fragments—the sound of bones snapping, the wet heat of blood soaking his robes, the screams of priests cut short. Those were the memories that haunted him.

And the darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.

He could still hear the echo of it, the Son of Chaos descending in a storm of roars and shrieks that didn't belong to this world. The temple shattered like glass. Priests were torn apart by invisible hands. And Z—young, fragile, and too slow to run—had been caught in the collapse.

When he woke, he couldn't feel anything below his waist. His eyes burned, useless and empty, their sockets dripping blood. He wasn't screaming anymore. There wasn't enough strength left for that.

Instead, there was silence. Cold. Heavy. Final.

He lay there, waiting for the end. And then he heard it.

A voice, smooth and ancient, like the shifting of tectonic plates.

"Do you want to live?"

It wasn't a question. It was an intrusion, filling his mind like molten lead.

Z couldn't answer. His throat was dry, his tongue swollen. But the voice didn't seem to care.

"I can give you life. I can give you sight beyond sight. I can make you whole."

He should have been afraid. He should have resisted. But what was left to fear when death was already clawing at your throat?

Z thought of the priests, the temple, the firelight on stone. He thought of the people he'd called his family—crushed, scattered, or worse. And he thought of himself, broken, blind, and alone in the rubble.

"What… what do you want?" he rasped.

The voice chuckled. It was not a sound meant for human ears.

"Only your service. And your soul, should you fail me."

Z hesitated. For a moment, he felt the weight of something immense pressing down on him, as if the universe itself was watching, waiting for his answer.

"Fine," he whispered. "Take whatever you want."

The laughter grew louder, more terrible, until it was the only thing he could hear. And then came the fire.

It started in his chest, spreading like liquid lightning through his veins. His body contorted, bones snapping back into place, muscles reknitting themselves. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the roar of chaos.

When it was over, he lay gasping in the darkness. He still couldn't see. His eyes were gone, their sockets stitched shut with something that felt like molten thread. But…

He could see.

Shapes danced in the void—threads of light and shadow, pulsing like veins. Magic swirled in endless patterns, the raw fabric of the world laid bare before him. And at the center of it all, he saw the faintest outline of a figure.

"Remember this moment, Z. For now, you are mine."

The voice vanished, leaving only the hum of the world as it truly was.

Z sat up, trembling, his hands gripping the dirt beneath him. The pain was gone, but the heaviness of something far greater had settled in its place.

For the first time, he wondered if he had made a mistake.

And then he laughed—a short, bitter sound.

"Guess I've got no choice now," he muttered. "Thanks. Real generous of you."

With nothing left but his new sight and a fresh scar where his soul used to be, Z stumbled forward into the dark.

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