His To Corrupt Novels & Stories

To perpetuate his selfish agenda, he bribed, convinced, or threatened others to do his dirty deeds, keeping his reputation clean enough to keep going undetected, spreading his foul nature like an infection through the kingdom and beyond. He needs to die. There is nothing he can do or say that will keep me from destroying everyone and everything he has ever cared about, because everything he touches he corrupts. Anyone who follows him willingly, who doesn't fight back, who turns a blind eye when he chooses to take and hurt, none of them deserve the air they breathe or the ground beneath their feet.

The room of his corruption. He doesn’t look at me. He looks at the Warden, and his voice is rough, stripped bare. “The corruption was a tide,” he says. “It was… efficient. It offered power. Simplicity. An end to the pain of being… this.” He gestures to his own body. “The logical choice was to let it consume me. To become the thing I was built to be. A perfect, cold engine.” The memory washes over me, not as his, but as my own echoed terror from that time. The black tendrils snaking up his arm, the light in his eyes guttering.

attempted to sell out information to the adversaries and give critical information to a rival group in the virtual underworld. In my world, being loyal was an unbreakable oath not a suggestion. Additionally once sworn oaths were upheld with unwavering absolute finality. I looked down at the scene. It was a predictable choreography of consequence down to the mans choked gasps the sickening thud of impact and my mens raw guttural grunts as their fists made contact with flesh. I looked on passively my thoughts disengaged evaluating the effectiveness of their strikes. This was a matter of principle rather than personal preference. a corrupt variable that needs to be cleaned. The man writhed on t

"Your estate is so big, why is that, anyway? Overcompensating for something?" He fixed her with an unwavering stare. "Everything about me is big, Abigail." She blinked. Blushed and her eyes travelled involuntarily to the shape of his manhood in his pants. No statement. They passed by a lion-shaped marble fountain, in which one deer was torn apart. She studied it. "That's. cheerful." "Power," he said curtly. “Right. Okay. A death fountain isn't exactly an invitation.” They continued walking. She tried not to trip over her own humiliation.

The corruption doesn't just affect physical reality—it assaults consciousness itself, trying to convince us that impossible things are normal, that directions are suggestions, that cause and effect are optional. Cain helps by extending his shielding around our group, filtering the worst of the perceptual assault while allowing me to maintain the guidance we need. But even his enhanced abilities strain against corruption this widespread and entrenched. As afternoon shadows lengthen into early evening, we encounter our first overtly hostile manifestation. What initially appears to be a normal deer emerges from the forest ahead—until it turns to face us, revealing too many eyes, legs that bend

More power floods through me, pouring into my hands, into him, into the bond between us. “Come back to me!” I cry, my voice breaking. The silver light flares brighter, spreading across his face, down his neck, pushing back the darkness again, but not enough. Not nearly enough. The corruption is too rooted. It clings to him, woven into his blood, his bones, his very soul and it does not want to let go.​

When he called himself Rowan Hayes, when he spoke of my father and my arranged bride, it struck me: This man is Chaos, Hatred, and Ruin all in one. He wanted to destroy me. And in that moment, watching the sedative hiss toward my face, a shameful thought surfaced: Maybe I want to feel something. Something other than the silence. I let the darkness take me, yielding to the ruin he promised. I had nothing left to lose. Let him ruin me. I long to see what kind of darkness he intends to bring to my already wrecked life. CHAPTER 1 ~~MATTEO~~ I glanced around the restaurant, taking in every detail. The balloons were glued to the ceiling, the letter balloons spelling out “Happy Anniversary,” and th

The Pope and Olgana both said. Alpha Serses then stood, jaw tight. “And about Cassius?” Lucifer’s gaze darkened. “Gone. The Moon Goddess has him.” Chaos’s aura flared briefly, the windows trembling. “Not for long.” The Void smirked. “He won’t kneel easily.” "Then about the corruption, is it the moon goddess's doing." Tyler asked. "Well I did it. Mixed Chaos in the energy of the rouges, and they regain temporary sanity but they are corrupted. But it was all to save my mother Lilith and bid time I

"We cannot simply kill him. The corruption doesn't die with the host—it spreads, wolf to wolf, faster than we can contain it as long as he exists in this state. Killing him now only guarantees it finishes what it started tonight." The chief healer stood at the room's center, an old seer beside her Caierre hadn't seen in the earlier meeting, both of them working through calculations scrawled hastily across parchment already soaked through with someone's blood. "There is one path," the healer said finally, grim. "We do not kill him. We shatter him. Break the corrupted soul into pieces too small, too weak, to carry the full weight of what it's become. Bind those fragments to hosts across genera

His eyes became voids of pure, un-simulated black. "The Architects were fools," Jax said, his voice now a chorus of a million glitches. "They wanted a perfect world. But I... I want the **Entropy**. I am the error that survived the first purge. I am the virus that lived in the cracks. For eons, I have waited for a Prime-Link to bring the Source out of the light and into the Dark." He looked at me, and I saw the truth. Jax wasn't a guide. He wasn't a survivor. He was the **Ultimate Corruption**.