Story cover for Realm Mercenary Z: Vis Story by RealmMercenary
Realm Mercenary Z: Vis Story
  • WpView
    Reads 416
  • WpVote
    Votes 10
  • WpPart
    Parts 5
  • WpHistory
    Time 6h 14m
  • WpView
    Reads 416
  • WpVote
    Votes 10
  • WpPart
    Parts 5
  • WpHistory
    Time 6h 14m
Ongoing, First published May 11, 2021
Mature
In a distant future where realms can be used to travel around. A young boy named vis is captured and enslaved by the azure king himself. But does vis have what it takes to outclass the forces beyond his own or is he being played. Or could something  powerful inside him that could change all of the realms rules.

note: some of the chapters are compiled into1 to be volumes , so read the chapters as in volumes not 
as parts.
All Rights Reserved
Sign up to add Realm Mercenary Z: Vis Story to your library and receive updates
or
Content Guidelines
You may also like
You may also like
Slide 1 of 10
Losing Game cover
DIVINE CHAMPIONS 4: THE SUN'S CHOICE cover
Craving (The Tales of Love and Death) cover
The Seventh Treasure cover
|~Elemental Battle High~| cover
Book 1: The Hero Wars (Revision 1) cover
Warlord in love cover
Unchosen: Burden of a Legend cover
DIVINE CHAMPIONS: A BOLT OF LIGHTNING cover
Azure knights cover

Losing Game

6 parts Ongoing Mature

(TWs: gore, abuse, sexual abuse, cursing) Why does he still breathe? Why is he kept alive in this shadowed purgatory where time has no meaning, and screams are swallowed by the walls? His cell is a cage, his life a cruel experiment, and his mind a battlefield. Questions claw at him relentlessly: Who is he? What is he? Why does this torment exist? The walls bleed stories of others-lost souls whose cries still linger, haunting the air. His own voice has grown hoarse from endless screams, his body a canvas of scars, a map of suffering that tells no answers, only pain. Every day is a ritual of degradation, where faceless captors toy with his humanity, stripping him of it piece by agonizing piece. The only constant is the endless cycle of questions. Why him? Why the torture? What is their purpose? He clings to the faintest memories of a time before-fleeting images of warmth, love, a face he cannot quite recall. But even those are slipping away, devoured by the void growing inside him. In this relentless, suffocating darkness, where hope is a distant memory, only one question remains: When will the game end, and what will be left of him when it does?