Corrupted Mind 소설 & 이야기

* The revelation of why the 'Pieces' turned like that made all the people inside the room freeze, Sirzechs, Grayfia, Azazel, and Michael were the most affected ones. *Since the 'Juggernaut' was stopped then I should have become better?... wrong. Everything just became shit!* *At that moment the 'Evil Pieces' inside my body were further corrupted, and they became eight malicious spots which devoured my body and 'Life Force' constantly. I named those eight spots 'Corruption', but if you think that was the worst think again! * - Ise kept throwing jabs at everyone, they didn't even know what to do.

Karl followed Justin’s gaze and looked outside the window similarly, then he remarked faintly, “Do you feel like Harmony has become rather different? She’s not in a very good state of mind right now, and I think she will need a therapist when she gets to Miraco.” Justin stared at Harmony for a brief period before looking away. “Why does she need a therapist? What happened to her?”

"But... aren’t mafias supposed to be ruthless in their own games?" A cold, knowing smile crept onto Grace’s lips. "Oh, sweet Sherry, if only. We believe hundred percent on each other, yes, but trust? That’s just a myth. Mafias can break their trust easily, infact mafias don't trust anyone because it will be deemed as a weakness reason being emotions are involved, as a Mafia I can assure you we don't like being emotional, but it’s not just trust that can do the job. There’s something called heart corruption. It’s a slow decay—a disease that seeps into a mafia's soul. Once it starts, it spreads, infecting the body and mind. And eventually... it kills the meaning of brotherhood, sisterhood, and

CHAPTER SONG SUGGESTION _ SAM MYERS - I GOT THE BLUES Mesi's POV LOVE. PURPOSE. PASSION. DREAMS. All things I had spent my life denying myself unknowingly. I took a deep breath closing my eyes trying my best to calm the beating in my head as oceans of stress continued to wash away the peace that kept me afloat, leaving me to drown in waters of worry.

I whispered but was instantly shushed. “After the cleansing of the Base’s weaknesses, some of you turned against your fellows and myself. It seems that your minds had been corrupted by the things that were not meant to be here. It has been spreading throughout the Base.” “He means the children and the hate for those who killed them” Striker muttered to me when I turned to him for an explanation. “I do not take chances on weak Souls. You are all corrupted.” “Corrupted?!" I cried out, as there was more chattering and angered protests of disapproval "What’s going to happen to us?"

“Don’t fuck with me—just fucking kill me already!” He couldn’t process that he would also want to die now after all the things he went through. With the amount of drugs injected into him, he knew he would die sooner or later. But he suddenly thought, if the night back in the abandoned building he made up his mind not to take his own life, would he really want to give up now when he had promised that he will live for himself and his father? “You are an important part of this experiment. You cannot die until no one replaces you,” told Dr. Conscire. “Just follow our orders. I will remove your handcuffs now, you have to proceed to the Second Stage.”

"We are not trying to become one being. We are trying to become one purpose with twenty different approaches." The distinction mattered. Instead of forcing complete unity, we created something more like an orchestra—twenty individual instruments playing in coordination rather than one massive sound. Each perspective maintained its identity while contributing to unified action. Through this expanded consciousness, we approached the dimensional weak point together. The corruption sensed our intent and attacked immediately. Not with physical force but with conceptual assault, trying to convince us that healing was futile, that consumption was mercy, that damaged realities wanted to end. "It is

It’s like there’s a new me now. A monster. A slutty, wrecked, desperate version of myself that can’t go a fucking day without thinking about getting laid. Zeden didn’t just fuck my cunt. He fucked my mind. My brain. That blind bastard corrupted something inside me. He broke into places no one had ever touched. He flipped some sick switch that now won’t shut off. I’m not even the same person anymore. I walk around, eyes blank, pussy dripping, mind filled with one thing— His cock.

My jaw was clenched so hard my teeth hurt. The memory didn't have a face. That was the strange thing about it, about all of them. Sometimes I could see the room, feel the air, hear the sounds—the creak of the floor, the particular way breathing sounded in an enclosed space when there were two people and one of them was trying very hard to be quiet—but the face was always blurred, like someone had taken a finger and smudged it out. My brain did that on its own. A protection mechanism, maybe. Or maybe just a way of making something unbearable slightly less so.

Slapping her arm like a mad woman as she fled. She ran across the porch, down the steps, and out into the street before she stopped. Breathing heavily she then looked around and took in the neighborhood around her. To her dismay she saw that every house up and down her street was in a state of disrepair. Her heart sank as she took it all in. Was she losing her mind? Or had she somehow managed to miss some horrible apocalyptic event? Cara was finding it exceedingly difficult to wrap her mind around the desolate waste land before her.