Maledictus Nobilitatem

Maledictus Nobilitatem

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WpMetadataNoticePublikasi terakhir Kam, Mei 26, 2022
Malachi von Locke. He was a Great Prince who had terrorized many worlds with his insatiable thirst for blood. His fangs had pierced many young maidens' necks, and his debauchery had caused havoc. That was until he arrived on earth. A great warrior cast a spell on Malachi which caused him to become human during the day, and a vampire at night. His coven banished him due to his tainted blood and the Emperor even disowned him, who had once been his own son. Mel was an essence cultivator, a human who practices magic which allows them to enhance their bodies and that gives them abilities, allowing them to fight back the vampires that virtually rule the world. Her family were a rich ancient vampire-slaying clan of warriors. She chances upon Malachi but sees potential within him. Mel had never met Malachi, but she had always dreamt of him, so, when she sees his sorry figure in a tavern at the slums, she knew destiny was at hand. Against the will of her clan, Mel took in Malachi despite his cruel and selfish personality. Spirit Cultivator by day, blood cultivator at night, Malachi began to train himself in the mystic arts so that he can remove his curse and return to being a true son of the night! Hundreds of battles, elitist academies, wars plots, suspense and thrill, twist and churn in this great escapade that spans across multiple lands and cultures! Slowly but surely, Malachi becomes a being who fights for humanity's freedom against his own blood. As he got stronger he became a legend whose name would span for many a millennium... Maledictus Nobilitatem, The Cursed Noble By theonionjunktion
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(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?

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