Gloom Novelas e Histórias

He stuttered his shaky hands ready to take notes in his small note book. Lorenzo inhaled through his nose. "I loved the smell of blood, the cries of the victims begging my dad for mercy, the children crying for their parents to be spared. Fucking paradise. I should take you to my basement one day and show you around. It's a lovely place." He chuckled Dr. Ross gulped shaking his head, "Uhh...alright-Umm. Let's m-move on." He made a quick note in his note pad. Lorenzo shrugged.

“What is this?” “That’s what killed him,” he said, his voice trembled. “H-He said if I got into trouble, I just have to…to go there.” The detective flipped the card and saw two words engrossed on it in gold ink. DOMUS MALUM His eyebrows furrowed, frustration creeping in. His head began to throb as he looked away. “Thanks for this, Mate,” he said and hopped on his car, never casting a glance again on the guy.

The "Total Deletion" of the Deep Web was not a sudden explosion; it was a "Bleaching" of the soul. As the Merchant-Moderator unleashed its "Formatting Frequency," the vibrant, violet-gold lilies of Kaelen’s "Crystalline Garden" began to fade into a flat, scentless grey. The mercury-sea turned into a solid, white-glass floor, and the "Failed Protagonists" unwove into streams of "Neutralized Code."

The gray fog in my right eye wasn't just blindness; it was an eviction notice. I stood in the sub-level command deck of Rebirth City, staring at the flickering tactical monitors through a haze that tasted of winter and old static. Every time I used the golden arm to ground the city’s failing power grid, the "Gilded Toll" took another bite of my humanity. My right eye was becoming a graveyard of color, leaving me with only the cold, sharpened gold of my left side to navigate the wreckage of my empire.

He came forward and grabbed my shoulders. “Coco, are you pregnant?” I shoved him away and answered with a cold voice, “No. I’m not. I’m just disgusted. Stop speaking of your empty, meaningless love. It just makes me sick.” The hope in his eyes shattered instantly.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and feel worse than Samara in "The Call" The dark circles under my eyes are darker than if I had had a full and tiring week of work, my face is pale, and my lips are parched. A sure sign of a hangover. After brushing my teeth, I take a shower and return to the bedroom with a red towel covering my body. I go to my closet to choose something presentable to wear. I pick up a pair of dark jeans, a black button-down sports blouse with sleeves that go to the elbows, a wide belt with a flower-shaped buckle and, last but not least, a pair of black scarpin shoes.

Combat erupts immediate, chaotic, visceral. A wave of elite carapace horrors lunges—claws skittering on ice, maws foaming, gravity pockets forming to crush. I counter with **Sanguine Eclipse**—blood ocean manifesting in the cavern ceiling, churning violent red, freezing into billions of crimson shards sharp as judgment. *Ultimate Activated: Planetary AoE – Swarm Debuff eighty percent* Shards rain like hellfire meteor storm—impaling beasts mid-leap, pinning them writhing to walls and floor, ichor spraying black fountains that freeze on contact.

Now, only power spoke. Gloria knelt first, laying a talon-shaped blade across her knees. Its hilt was carved from bone that pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a heartbeat echoing through the ground. The air grew colder around her, coiling like serpents, and her lips moved without sound. The frost crawling along her skin wasn’t entirely natural; it was the blade calling to her, the spirits whispering their obedience.

VOLUME ONE: GUILT Prologue Have you ever had a moment of complete irony? I once looked up what the definition was. According to Siri irony was, and I quote, "a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result".

Liquidation is absolute. ​"The Apex Bloom is entering its third phase," Franco announced, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "The physical trials are over. The psychological games are over. Phase Three is total, unmitigated betrayal." ​The heavy steel doors that led back to the living quarters slammed shut with a deafening boom. Red emergency lights bathed the room in a bloody, pulsing glow.