Sims System Novels & Stories

The earth grumbled as Matthias raised his hands that were glowing a bright red. The sand underneath the skeleton army split open and they fell through the cracks. Callie stilled as she saw Matthias’s eyes. Instead of green, they were completely black, the same as her eyes when she was using powerful magic. As the earth stilled, Matthias closed his eyes and collapsed to the sand.

The system was evolving a version of me that didn’t hesitate, didn’t burn, didn’t need Shawn’s hands on my skin to feel alive. I stepped closer to the table, thighs pressing together against the growing ache. “You’re not simulating me. You’re simulating what you can measure of me.” Duvall’s expression tightened. “That distinction is operationally irrelevant.” “No,” I replied. “It’s the only thing that matters.” The room fell silent. Because they knew I was right. The predictive model was now running live simulations. In every branch, a version of me made cleaner, faster choices. Some more aggressive. Some unfamiliar even to me.

I blew gently on the bowl of porridge in front of me, just warmed. For a moment, the rising mist blurred my vision. My eyes, dry and sore, began to sting faintly. Then the silence shattered—my phone, vibrating and screaming like it was possessed. I glanced down and saw a familiar name flashing insistently on the screen. Charles. Without thinking, I answered. Muscle memory. I even put it on speaker.

A pause. Then—. “Outcome: system collapse.”. Adrian slowly breathed a breath of fresh air. "That's the crux of it.". The sphere brightened. Pressure is building inside the room as light accumulates over it, not outward. Amina felt it instantly. The system wasn't attacking them. It was preparing something. “What's it doing?” she asked. Adrian's expression darkened slightly. “…Simulating outcomes.”. A pause. Then—. “Choosing the most stable solution.”.

I've sculpted a character based on my boss, Jacob Carter, in my smutty novel. Jacob, who's a cold, distant, and stern man in reality, is reduced to a lovesick simp in my novel. Apparently, he's maddeningly in love with me there. But when I tender my resignation letter later on, Jacob rips it into shreds before cornering me. "Oh? Are you planning to leave now that you've finished writing that novel of yours? How dare you discard me as soon as you're done with me! What am I, a cheap escort?"

Instead, I followed him into the simulation room: A curved steel chamber, interior domed with VR panel, oxygen masks hanging from the walls, multiple floating control screens. The lights dimmed as we entered. The system’s voice echoed around us: *simulation: Rapid Cabin Decompression. 3…..2….”* Adrian scowled at me. “I doubt you’d remember any of this, and I’m pretty sure you’ll fall behind. Just don’t weigh me down.” “I retired for personal reasons, not from amnesia.” *”1”* The world around me exploded into noise. Strong wind tore through every corner of the chamber, alarms blared, pressure warnings flashed red.

"I did not." The System finally broke its silence, its tone stiff and mechanical. "I merely simulated a high-risk scenario to expedite mission progress." "Expedite?" I laughed harshly. "What if Kendrick hadn't made it in time? Would I be the one bleeding out on the pavement instead?" "Impossible. My calculations indicated a 100% probability that he would intercept the attack on your behalf." "So, that gives you the right to gamble with my life whenever it suits you?" I sneered. "How are you any different from Kendrick? You're working together, aren't you?"

I had waited a month for Ascendant Group's college recruitment offer. When it finally arrived, Yvie Smith walked over arm in arm with another man while she smiled at me. "Carl, you should let Kevin take that offer instead." As I turned to her, everyone around me was holding back their laughter, waiting for me to cave and agree, like I had always done. It had been ten years. I would give her anything whenever she asked, from competition qualification spots and postgraduate recommendations to ten grand worth of hard-earned money… She was used to it, and I had since made peace with it. And now, she was looking at me loftily, speaking as if she were giving alms. "It's the same thing every t

Griff asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the plastic chair creaking under the shift of his weight. Simms shook his head slowly, jaw tight. "Nobody I know's set foot there. It's a name on paper to me, same as it probably is to you. Women's facility, same Compact system, same general rules." He paused, rubbing a thumb along an old scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow, a burn mark from a suppressant reaction gone wrong years back. "Beyond that, I've got nothing solid to give you."

The entire school thought I was the school belle Wanda Stewart's biggest simp. I would send her breakfast during her morning run. I would offer her a towel and water during her matches. I would buy her pancakes from three streets away in the bitter cold just because she said she was hungry in the middle of the night. The boys in school who liked her could form a line from the mathematics department to the field. The look in their eyes changed from disdain to hatred. "He hasn't managed to pursue her even after all that simping. He really can take things in his stride." "Wanda is just good-natured. That's why she hasn't called the police." When the school hunk, Connor Graham, decided t