Flawless Victory Novels & Stories

“So enjoy your victory. Relish in it.” “Oh, I am,” he replied, his tone dark with satisfaction, a deep, resonant pleasure that sent shivers of revulsion through me. “There’s nothing quite like winning when the other side doesn’t even fight. When they simply surrender without a single blow.” My jaw tightened, aching with the effort of control. My nails dug deeper into my palm, leaving crescent-shaped indentations. “I didn’t fight,” I said, almost to myself, the words a raw, bitter truth, “because I didn’t have the luxury of choice. Not when Eli’s life was the stake.”

“Consistency. No slips. No contradictions. If you say Paris was our first trip together, then Paris it is. If I wear a certain colour and the blogs decide it’s your favourite, then it becomes your favourite. We don’t feed them confusion.” Dante tilted his head, studying me the way a scientist studies an experiment. “And what about feelings?” I laughed, sharp and humorless. “Rule Three: There are none. In public, you’re mine. In private, you’re untouchable. Clear?” His eyes flickered, just for a second, something unreadable in them. Then the mask slid back into place. “Crystal.”

After half an hour of playing, Tukijo's team won with a score of 3-1. "Yeaaaay!" shouted Tukijo, Cecep, and Bagas as they celebrated their victory. -THE END-

Before he knew it, his eyes began to close and everything went black. Rowena's heart was pounding like crazy. Gary was picking up Hope. Never did she think a situation like it would happen. But as a single mother, she was desperate. She didn't believe in God, yet she prayed so hard that nothing serious would happen. Every sentence the Vice Principal spoke was agony for her. He talked slow and she hated every bit of it.

It doesn't bother me at all because fear is a weakness, and once you have one it's hard to get over. I am Lavender Jewels and I will never fall, I will be the first one in the battlefield to fight for the creatures of Utopia, the one that will change our generation. The One who will take them out. Once and For All.

+ADAL+ This must be a nightmare, is it a dream... I'm a miserable person who doesn't deserve to be with her! She's an old-young girl! How couldn't, I deduce that she was a virgin, how couldn't, I tell that... Fuck! How couldn't, she tells me this... Yes, I'm so stupid that she had to say to me, "Listen, Adal, you can make it easier for me because I'm a virgin." I want the earth to swallow me, she is... It can't be, and the worst part is that we have a contract, and we have to be together.

Arthur asked, leaning closer as he tried to peer at the page that she had opened. "I'm going to bid on Mr. September." Victory gave out a low appreciative whistle, wagging her eyebrows as she pointed at a photo of a hunky looking man, clad only in a pair of jeans that hung low on his waist, revealing hard abs and sculpted muscle. "I wouldn't mind him cooking for me." Victory continued, licking her lips lecherously as a mischievous smile appeared on her face. She read aloud what the winning bidder would be entitled to.

“This is it — the first real victory. Not a confrontation, not a direct strike, but a win nonetheless. It proves we can shape the game, force reactions, and survive while doing it.” Madison smiled faintly, still exhausted but elated. “We finally have something tangible. A foothold.” I nodded, feeling a rush of determination and confidence. “And now we know. He’s not invincible. He can be influenced, manipulated, predicted.” --- That night, I reflected on what victory meant. It wasn’t about defeating him outright — not yet. It was about proving we could adapt, survive, and strategize effectively. Every hesitation we observed, every flaw we exploited, was a step closer to leveling the playing

She felt like vomiting blood. Because this wasn’t the victory she dreamed of. Not the kind that bled her dry every sleepless night. Not the kind that demanded her sanity in exchange for a clean win. No. This—this was a tainted offering. He had handed her victory like a discarded flower on a grave, as if saying, 'Take it. It means nothing to me.' And just like that, it meant nothing to her either. Everything that the victory was worth vanished. He had robbed her. Stripped the victory bare of its worth and dressed it in sympathy and scorn.

“Victory? Hah. It was more like a reckoning for you, Mr. Blackwell. The silence between them surged like a haunted nightmare. He tilted his head slightly, brushing hair from his temple, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Then why does it feel like a victory? Hm?” Isla refused to break eye contact. “Because victories don’t always feel like celebrations, Mr. Blackwell. Sometimes, victory tastes like iron and stone inside your mouth, a needle plunging inside the heart.” A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Always so poetic, Isla.”