Simulacra Novels & Stories

Sienna whispered, the heavy syllables crashing into her fractured subconscious like a sonic boom. The name instantly triggered a violent sequence of corrupted archival images inside her mind. A phantom projection materialized in her focus—a dominant alpha pair locking their fingers together, pacing through an ancient, blood-drenched territory ahead of her line. The male turned his scarred face back toward her position, barking a silent command, his fangs flashing in a rare, affectionate smile before he locked his gaze back onto the northern trade route. Then the simulation fractured, replacing the territory with a high-security black-site medical bay. The same dominant alpha was pinned to an

I tore the first page of the transition agreement in half, forcing the blue-glowing circuit paths inside the paper to snap. A mile away, at the top of the Ikoyi ridge, the massive digital billboard that usually showed advertisements for Vane-Global's offshore banking services suddenly went blank. The glossy images of clean, automated cities vanished, replaced by a massive, high-definition live feed of the riverbank we had just left. The image didn't show the real world; it showed the Simulation Layer. It showed the forty-one empty tanks of my dead sisters, the silver water of the "Weeping Source" pouring out of the screen like a digital waterfall, overlaying the real-world traffic on the bri

Each and every window mirrored the image: The six of us, exactly as we were—bloodied, broken, limping. In the reflections did we appear to be smiling. Elena’s breath caught. "Rosa… please say you notice that well.” “I see it " I whispered. ". I despise it.” Mamá Sofia’s voice rasped in my ear. "Mija that’s not the Brooklyn we know.” Alexander carefully leaned Marco against a mailbox that hadn't been there ten minutes earlier. The boys eyes slowly opened his pupils dilated. "It's a sandbox " he whispered hoarsely. "An exact replica. The city is conducting a simulation… using us as the model."

Lirian looked apprehensive as they arrived via gravitic shuttle, his slender form dwarfed by the jagged spires that shifted under Aether pulses, defying standard physics with variable-gravity pockets that allowed leaps mimicking low-orbit jumps. The hunt was announced at dusk: a traditional Auralis rite, blending sci-fi augmentation with primal violence. Simulacra beasts, holographic constructs infused with real Aether feedback loops, were released into the peaks. These weren't mere illusions; quantum entanglement made their strikes deliver kinetic force, drawing blood, fracturing bones, and even inducing neural feedback that simulated death throes. Participan

They were perfect, sapphire-skinned replicas of Sofia, each one holding a jagged blade of light. "This isn't real. It's just a projection," Nomo told himself, his hands shaking. He looked at Sofia, who was still trapped at the pedestal, her eyes rolled back in her head. "Sofia! Wake up! They're using your mind against us!" The replicas didn't speak. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized grace, their blades whistling through the air as they closed the distance. Nomo fired a burst, but the rounds passed through the first replica as if it were made of smoke. It didn't stop. It lunged, its blade grazing Nomo’s shoulder and leaving a stinging trail of frost.

She was writing something, her hand moving across paper in steady, mechanical strokes. "Mimic," Marcus whispered. They were Class D threats that copied human behavior. Dangerous because they looked normal until you got close enough for them to strike. This one had probably been here for years, sitting at that desk and waiting for someone stupid enough to approach. I'd killed Mimics before. The trick was speed. Get close, strike fast, don't let them react. I moved toward the desk. The woman kept writing. Three steps away. Two. One. I drove my blade through the back of her chair. The Mimic screamed—a sound that wasn't human at all. It twisted, faster than anything should move, and its face spl

“The Heart created a simulation layered over the real one. This is the echo of what we saved—or what it wants us to see.” They walked through the streets, past ghostlike cars and storefronts frozen mid-motion. A breeze swept through, carrying fragments of sound—laughter, conversation, the static hum of life. It was as if the world was remembering itself. Lena stopped in front of a cracked window and caught her reflection. For a second, she thought it was her—but the eyes in the glass glowed faintly blue, and the lips moved even though she hadn’t. “Adrian,” she whispered. He turned just as the reflection spoke. “You can’t run from what you’ve become.”

My foot I say to all those foolish uncultured creatures. But back to the plan... I know exactly what I'm going to do, little miss perfect aren't going to be so perfect after I'm done with her. She will be equivalent to Lilly's disfigured paintings. With a dark grin spreading on her lips, one similar to the grin the devil himself would be spotted in. The chills that run down one's spine after witnessing it would certainly crawl down your spine like a lone drop of water running down one's exposed back. •●•

Their skins turning pale, their bodies having sparse flesh atop its skeletal framework and veins turning black making them look more or like zombies. The remaining four had to find a cure for this ailment, "Black Death"; they called it, Kimora was created by them, it came with a price, killing everyone with dark matter and three of the elders died in the process, Kimora was so powerful it did the job but a little too well having a mind of its own the last Elder saw this as a threat had the Kimora gotten rid of and he vanished not to be seen again.

Lincoln continued measuring the orange fabric on the mannequin, ruling lines along using a pencil. “Why did you lie? And why did your mom look so worked up over it?” Lincoln stilled. He looked so hesitant and seemed to think hard about whether he’ll Shun the reason or not. Shun wanted to tell him it was okay if Lincoln doesn’t want to tell him, but there was this small thought creeping inside his mind, telling him he deserved it. Because instead of working his ass in a racket job Sachiko had given him, he’s inside Vega’s clothing company, dressed as a woman with full make-up and a few inches of heels. The absurdest thing is, he was close to cringing every time he made his voice sound like a