Cherreads

Absolute Exorcist

Lifeless_leaf
Absolute Exorcist Every five years, a global exorcist tournament determines the hierarchy of the supernatural world, ranking those who shape reality itself. To ordinary people, these matches appear as simple street fights. But in truth, every battle unfolds across a hidden spiritual layer, where the real conflict is decided through the interaction between humans and spirits. In this world, magic is not freely generated. Humans possess only microscopic life energy, insufficient to produce true phenomena. Instead, they act as signalers, using chants and techniques to communicate intent to spirits, who execute the result. Most spirits respond with minimal effort, making efficiency, clarity, and timing the foundation of combat. From this, two distinct combat philosophies emerge: Battle Types: specialize in rapid execution, sending precise, high-speed signals to spirits, forcing immediate results in the flow of combat. Their strength lies in timing, output efficiency, and the ability to act within fractions of a moment. Support Types: construct systems, rituals, arrays, and artifacts that store energy and define outcomes. At higher levels, they no longer rely on spirits at all, instead creating structured rule-based frameworks that determine how magic behaves within a space. Power is not measured by potential, but by , recorded output, a fighter’s highest achieved performance and their consistency in reaching it. Rankings reflect proven limits, not theoretical growth. Yet beyond individual combat lies a deeper layer of reality. Spirits themselves are not static beings. They exist in shifting states, forming, dispersing, and sometimes gathering into unified entities when their ambitions align. These entities can reshape entire battlefields, acting as forces of nature with intent. What appears to be victory over such beings is rarely destruction, but the collapse of their shared purpose. To maintain stability, elite overseers operate within the spiritual layer, controlling the aftermath of battles. Damage does not disappear, it accumulates, delayed until the fight ends, when reality absorbs the consequences all at once. But the tournament is not just about rank. It is a selection process. Across multiple dimensions, other worlds operate under different systems of power. The chosen exorcists must represent their reality against opponents whose magic follows entirely different rules, where even the definition of strength may not be the same. In this layered world, combat is not just about winning. It is about proving which system, which philosophy, which understanding of power, deserves to exist beyond its own reality.
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Author's Interference: The Children of Time

“You know, I’ve met death. Rather polite, actually. But it doesn’t knock, just lets himself in.” Life. That fleeting flicker between two eternities of silence. People spend it chasing things—money, love, validation, a good seat on the train. They build empires of paper, relationships of glass, and sleep each night under the illusion that tomorrow has been promised. But it hasn’t. It never was. Death doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you’re a king or a child. It arrives like an old friend, or a thief, or worse—like something you invited in. And yet… every now and then, the universe hiccups. A soul slips through. A crack opens. A second life is born—not as a reward, no, but as a test. Because what could be more dangerous than a man who's seen how the story ends—and comes back knowing exactly what not to do? But here’s the rub: a second chance is not a reset. It’s a curse with velvet gloves. You remember the pain, the loss, the betrayal—and worst of all, the choices you didn’t make. So when someone tells you this is just a story about life and death, smile politely. In many cases—in most cases—you’ll hear stories of heroes rising from the ashes, grateful for their second breath. However… in my case? I wanted to be the villain. To see a different end to this story. People say a person’s nature is hard to change. That deep down, we are who we are. But I changed... simply because I was curious. --------------- Join the discord server. https://discord.gg/m6c3RCv4AG
Doctor_11th10 · 159.9k Views

KRONOS MAW: RISE OF THE TEMPORAL ANCHOR

Time is not on his side. It's inside him. Nineteen year old Alex Wilder has spent his whole life feeling like he's watching the world through glass — present but untouched, handsome but invisible, alive but completely indifferent. In the crowded hallways of New Lagos High he is nobody. A closed door. A boy too guarded to let the world in and too smart to pretend that doesn't cost him something. Then one rainy evening in the forgotten sub-levels of Chronicle Hall, everything changes. A four hundred year old secret chooses him. A pulse that isn't his own heartbeat takes up residence in his chest. And somewhere at the edge of the universe, something ancient and hungry stirs — a being who was once the greatest guardian of time and is now its most terrifying enemy — and starts moving toward New Lagos. His name is Kronos Maw. He doesn't want to rule time. He wants to unmake it. But Kronos Maw is not the worst thing out there. Before the universe had a name. Before time had a direction. Before the first star burned its first light into the darkness — there was the Chrono Void. A hunger that doesn't roar or rage or announce itself. It simply waits at the edge of everything, patient and absolute, whispering one promise to every crack in reality it finds. Entropy. Silence. Nothingness. For centuries the Temporal Lattice has kept it locked away. But the Lattice is fracturing. And every Rift pulse Kronos Maw unleashes loosens another thread. Every world he destroys opens another crack. He believes he is using the Void as a weapon. He doesn't understand that the Void is using him. Across the multiverse others are stirring. A wind-singer on a floating citadel of crystal spires whose songs travel through cracks in reality. A stone-skinned guardian on a desert world where sand itself is frozen in time. Ancient Weavers watching from a pocket dimension outside of time entirely. Warriors from rift-scarred worlds carrying powers forged from broken timelines. All of them feeling the same fractures. All of them sending the same desperate signal. Hold the line. On Earth Alex's only allies are a sharp-eyed tech genius with fourteen pages of notes, a former bully with a blade forged from broken time, and a four hundred year old guardian who has been waiting specifically for him. Together they are the first defense between New Lagos and oblivion. Between Earth and the unraveling of everything. Two threats. One is coming for him. The other is coming for everything. Some legacies skip generations. Some wait four hundred years. Alex's just arrived. And the question isn't whether he's ready. The question is whether ready even matters anymore. The lattice is fracturing. The tyrant is coming. The Void is whispering. And a boy from New Lagos is all that stands between existence and the hungry silence at the edge of time. The war for time itself begins here. Time is not on his side. It's inside him. Nineteen year old Alex Wilder has spent his whole life feeling like he's watching the world through glass — present but untouched, handsome but invisible, alive but completely indifferent. In the crowded hallways of New Lagos High he is nobody. A closed door. A boy too guarded to let the world in and too smart to pretend that doesn't cost him something. Then one rainy evening in the forgotten sub-levels of Chronicle Hall, everything changes. A four hundred year old secret chooses him. A pulse that isn't his own heartbeat takes up residence in his chest. And somewhere at the edge of the universe, something ancient and hungry stirs — a being who was once the greatest guardian of time and is now its most terrifying enemy — and starts moving toward New Lagos. His name is Kronos Maw. He doesn't want to rule time. He wants to unmake it. But Kronos Maw is not the worst thing out there. Before the universe had a name. Before time had a direction. Before the first star burned its first light into the darkness — there was the Chrono Void. A hunger that doesn't roar or rage
pee_cious · 38k Views