Corrupted Soul Novels & Stories

It said, "Winter Brooke, last stage stomach cancer." Winter Brooke… Last stage stomach cancer… I felt as though something massive had just struck me in the head. As Colette screamed at the grunting boys to stop fighting, I was suddenly transported back to that day when both my parents jumped off a building to end their lives after going broke. Then, Colette came over to my house with Finnegan's elder brother, Joachim Churchill, and poured boiling water down my throat. She wanted me to lose my voice forever. That way, she could replace me and tell Finnegan that she had been the one who had been painstakingly taking care of him for the past three years.

I wiped a tear that had spilled from my eye, to think Seth was dead and I didn’t know all this time “No, I can’t” Desperation began to eat at me “How can you not fix him?!, you’re from the undershadows, can’t you use your shadow magic to bond him or something?” I asked. “No Gary! I can’t fix his soul! he will need a soul-keeper for that and that I am not!” “Out of curiosity here, what happens if a soul cracks completely?”

The weight of the decision pressed heavily on Asha’s chest as she stood before the tank, staring at the distorted reflection of herself suspended in the glowing liquid. The figure inside seemed almost lifelike, yet the twisted form of her own image was a cruel reminder of the dark magic that had been used to manipulate her bloodline. The Soulbone Imprint was both a gift and a curse—one that had bound her to the very powers she sought to destroy.

Soon I saw them approaching, thousands of creatures all of them looking feral, without fear or soul in their eyes. Ogres, Giants, Goblins, and Demons, among others. Coral´s eyes were pitch black, while my mother´s were completely white. Long gone were her green eyes or her loving gaze. Not that she did show love often, but well, long gone was any expression of humanity in them. My heart shattered at the sight. After all, she was my mother, and her soul was so corrupted by vengeance and hate that darkness had possessed her completely.

It cracks all the ground around it. My attention was so absorbed in this creature that I didn't realize there was an even more terrifying one riding it. The creature from the depths of the most corrupt, decadent and deranged mind. A being that could rip your soul right out of your hands. My body could not bear it any more, I was losing the battle, death was only a few seconds away. “Ba dum, ba ...... dum”.

‘Those who encountered the beast, come to me.’ Hearing the beautiful lustrous voice, the soul of the young man drifted out from its earthly macabre looking body. Eyes pecked out by crows, intestines laying on the ground, soiled and eaten by foxes, wild animals. ‘Come to me, come to me.’ The beautiful voice sang. The light blue soul turned dark. The sins, the transgressions and the wickedness the soul had endured overruled its purity. Turning it into a ghoul.

It hadn't just swallowed me; it had used me to erase him. But the Sovereigns, and even Julian, made one fatal mistake when they designed the 7.0 code. They built the Replacement Protocol to overwrite a single soul with the cold efficiency of the Heir. They didn't account for the fact that I was currently carrying two souls. The childhood trauma I had accidentally downloaded from Dante in Chapter 257—the shadow of the boy who hated his father, the burning rage of a child locked in a silver room—suddenly woke up in the deepest layers of my subconscious. It didn't belong to the "Ivy" protocol. It was a foreign virus, a corrupted Moretti file that Julian’s silver key couldn't control.

The black magic that flowed through his blood had distorted him into a monster something more than a man. His existence now hung on one desire: flesh and soul. He had savored the depths, and the depths now called for its payment. The pain of his corruption, the anguish of his very soul being ripped asunder, left him hungering for more. More to satiate the ravenous beast that now dwelled within him. Thus, he departed the burning rubble of his prison. The Citadel, the site of his birth and betrayal, was a thing of the past. It had no hold on him. He would etch his revenge into the very earth that had abandoned him, and the first step was to feed.

"That data is irrelevant to the mission. Grace, the State is waiting. Melanie Vance has been recovered. The Protocol must be finalized." "The Protocol is a lie," I said. I reached out and touched his cheek. His skin was cold. It lacked the fever of the man who had died in the fire. It lacked the humanity of the "corrupted" data. "He died for her," I whispered. "He died to prove that a piece of meat and wire can become a soul. You? You're just a statue." The New Version’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a strength that made the bones groan. "The soul is an inefficient variable, Grace. It leads to structural failure. Like the one you witnessed in the clearing."