Project Demi-God.

Romance & Main Cast

DemiGod Song

MC Powers: Click Here & Here

MC Demi Form

MC's Weapon(s)

VILLAINS LIST: 1 & 2

Lore Info: Click here -> Here -> hEre -> heRe ->

Morrisa:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway. The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me." You say to Morrisa while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

The neon sign continues to hum faintly above you, its flickering glow reflecting off the puddles at your feet. Rain drizzles softly, mixing with the distant murmur of the city. The alley is quiet—just you and Morrisa, standing in the dim light, the world beyond feeling far away.

She shifts beside you, hugging her arms to herself, as if shielding against the cold or maybe something deeper. Her amethyst eyes flicker with uncertainty, lingering on you for just a moment before darting away. A nervous breath escapes her lips.

"You always say that," she murmurs, her voice soft, edged with something unreadable. "That you’re nothing special. That people are just overreacting." She lets out a small, bitter chuckle. "But do you ever stop to think why they care so much?"

Her fingers tighten slightly around her sleeve. "You don’t see yourself the way I do… the way Ace does, or Dr. Henry. Even Cassandra, in her weird, ominous way." She hesitates, then looks up, meeting your eyes. "You always think you’re just… some experiment, something artificial. But I think… I think you’re more real than any of us."

The words linger between you, heavy, uncertain. She shifts on her feet, drops her gaze. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, barely visible under the neon haze. "Not that it matters what I think," she adds quickly, forcing a small laugh. "I just— I just wish you’d see yourself the way I do."

She exhales, hugging herself tighter. "Maybe then… you wouldn’t feel so alone."

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Ace:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway.  The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Ace while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Ace stands a few feet away, his back to you, arms crossed as he stares out at the rain. The neon glow casts sharp angles over his face, making his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he says nothing. Just the distant hum of the city, the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement. Then, with a sharp exhale, he turns to you.

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day," he says, blunt as ever.

You blink at him. "What?"

He steps closer, the weight of his presence grounding. "Nothing special? You think any of this—any of us—would be here if that were true?" His tone is calm, steady, but there's an edge beneath it, something raw.

Ace runs a hand through his damp hair, sighing. "I get it. I do. You didn’t ask for any of this. You were made for a purpose you didn’t choose. But that doesn’t mean you don’t matter." His dark eyes bore into yours, unwavering. "People care about you, Zero. I care. Morrisa cares. And I’m not the type to waste my time on someone who’s ‘nothing special.’"

The rain patters against the pavement, filling the silence between you. Ace shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look," he mutters, less intense now, "you don’t have to believe it. Not yet. Just… stop acting like you’re some empty shell."

He exhales, glancing away. "Because you’re not. And whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us."

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Lucifer:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway. The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Lucifer while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Lucifer chuckles, a low, velvety sound that barely rises above the patter of rain. He leans beside you, the neon glow casting crimson streaks across his sharp features. His crimson eyes flick toward you, gleaming with something unreadable—something knowing.

"Nothing special?" he muses, tilting his head. "Now that’s an interesting lie to tell yourself."

You scoff, shifting against the cold brick. "It’s not a lie. I’m just... me."

Lucifer hums thoughtfully, resting his elbow on his knee. "See, that’s what fascinates me about you, Zero. You could have all the power in the world, and yet, you’d still refuse to see your own worth." His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet playful. "That’s dangerous, you know. People will either want to break you or use you."

You shake your head. "I don’t see how that’s different from now."

Lucifer smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer beneath it. "The difference is, you have people who won’t let that happen. People who see you for more than just what you can do." His voice dips lower, smooth as silk. "I see it too, even if we haven’t known each other long. There’s something about you, Zero—something untamed, something rare. And rare things?" He leans in just enough to make you hold your breath. "They change the world."

He straightens, flashing a wicked grin. "So whether you think you’re special or not? It doesn’t matter. The world’s already decided."

Lucifer turns, stepping away. "Come on, then. Stay out here long enough, and you might start believing your own nonsense."

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Scott:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway.  The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Scott while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Scott exhales, running a hand through his damp hair before crossing his arms. The neon light flickers against his defined features, his gaze steady as he studies you. There’s no immediate response, no attempt to brush off what you said. Just a long, thoughtful pause.

Then, finally, he sighs. “You really believe that, huh?” His voice is low but firm, carrying that unshakable confidence he always seems to have. “That you’re nothing special?”

You shift, looking away. “It’s just the truth.”

Scott huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “Nah. That’s just fear talking. Or maybe guilt. I don’t know you that well yet, but I can see it—you carry the weight of something too damn heavy.” He nudges your arm, not forceful, but enough to make you look back at him. His eyes burn with something raw, something real. “And maybe you think that makes you ordinary, but it doesn’t.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off. “I’m not saying you have to believe it yet. Hell, I won’t force you. But Fáfnir sees it, too, even if he won’t say it out loud.” He glances up as if expecting some grumbled protest from the wolf within him. “And me? I don’t need a thousand years to figure it out—I already know.”

Scott steps closer, his voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be some grand legend, Zero. You just have to be. And if you ever forget why that’s enough, I’ll be here to remind you.”

He offers a smirk, tilting his head toward the street. “Now, come on. Standing in the rain, brooding? That’s my thing.”

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Cassandra:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway.  The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Cassandra while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Cassandra tilts her head, her maroon eyes softening as she watches you. The neon glow catches in her dark blue hair, reflecting the deep, unspoken emotions swirling within her. She steps closer, her presence warm despite the night’s chill.

"You really don’t see it, do you?" Her voice is gentle, threaded with something almost wistful. "After everything, after all you've been through, you still think you're nothing special?"

You let out a sigh, glancing away. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

She clicks her tongue, amused but not mocking. “Then maybe it’s time you stop knowing so much.”

Before you can react, she reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch is fleeting, almost hesitant, but it lingers just long enough to make your chest tighten. "I’ve known you all your life, Zero. I’ve seen you fight, struggle, survive. And no matter how dark things got, you never broke. That’s not something ordinary people do."

You swallow hard, the weight of her words pressing against you. "That doesn’t mean—"

"It means everything," she interrupts, voice suddenly fierce, protective. "You matter. To Ace, to Morrisa, to me." She exhales, her hand dropping away, but her gaze never wavers. "And if you can’t see it yet, that’s fine. I’ll see it for you."

She steps back with a soft, knowing smile. “Besides…” Her voice dips into something quieter, something almost vulnerable. “I think I’d be a little lost without you.”

The words linger between you, heavy yet comforting. Then, with a playful flick to your forehead, she turns. “Now, stop sulking and come on. You owe me a warm meal, and I hate eating alone.”

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Helena:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway.  The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Helena while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Helena exhales softly, the cold night air making her breath visible. Her emerald eyes flicker with something unreadable as she leans against the wall beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her.

“You really think that, don’t you?” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly to study you. “That you’re nothing special.”

You shrug, staring at the puddles reflecting the neon light. “It’s the truth.”

A quiet hum escapes her, a mix of contemplation and quiet defiance. Then, without hesitation, she reaches out, her fingers grazing your wrist before she grips it gently, grounding you. “I don’t believe that.”

You glance at her, surprised by the certainty in her voice.

“There’s something about you, Zero.” She squeezes your wrist lightly before letting go, but the warmth lingers. “I can’t explain it, but from the moment I met you, I felt it. Like I’ve known you before, like some part of me was waiting for you.” Her lips press together briefly, as if choosing her next words carefully. Then, with quiet conviction, she adds, “And I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way.”

You shake your head, about to argue, but she stops you with a soft chuckle. “I know what it’s like to feel small in the grand scheme of things. But you… You draw people in. You make them want to fight for you.” She smirks slightly. “And, well… I’m not going anywhere.”

A gust of wind rushes through the alley, but Helena remains steady, her presence unwavering. “So whether you believe it or not, I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”

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Momoko:

The flickering neon sign of the abandoned ramen shop casts an eerie glow on the rain-slicked alleyway.  The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt toast and fear. "I don't know why everyone is making a big deal out of me...there's nothing special to me" You say to Momoko while leaning against the grimy brick wall, the damp chill seeping into your clothes.

Momoko hesitates for a moment, her fingers gripping the hem of her kimono sleeve as she shifts on her feet. The dim neon glow casts soft shadows on her face, highlighting the uncertainty in her jade eyes. She glances at you, then down at the rain-slicked pavement, gathering her thoughts.

“That’s… not true,” she finally says, her voice gentle but firm. “You are special, Zero.”

You let out a quiet scoff, tilting your head back against the brick wall. “You barely know me.”

Momoko frowns, her brows knitting together. “Maybe I haven’t known you for long, but… I feel like I do.” She pauses, clutching her hands together. “Ever since we started training, I’ve felt—” she swallows, her voice growing softer, “—like the person I used to be.”

You turn to her, surprised by the raw honesty in her words. She offers a small, almost shy smile. “Before all this… before the fighting and the powers and the danger, I was just a farm girl. Simple. Ordinary. But when I’m around you, I remember what it was like to be me again.”

She looks away, cheeks dusted pink. “I don’t know why, but… it’s like you remind me of something I lost. And I don’t want to lose that again.”

Silence stretches between you, the rain drizzling lightly now. Then, in a moment of quiet courage, she reaches for your hand, barely brushing it with her fingertips before pulling away.

Cassandra’s True Origin:

Over 66 million years ago, Cassandra was born into servitude, a slave taken from her homeworld by an ancient alien conqueror who called himself a god. This being, whose name has been lost to time, was a scientist, an experimenter, and a cruel manipulator of life. He arrived on Earth in a colossal vessel, his arrival marking the end of the Cretaceous era, as his ship's descent annihilated the dinosaurs. But destruction was only the beginning—this god saw Earth as a petri dish, an untouched world perfect for his ambitions.

Cassandra was meant for pleasure and servitude, nothing more than an ornament at her master's side, a possession to be admired but never respected. Yet, even as a slave, she was observant, cunning, and adaptive. She studied the knowledge of her master, learning the workings of ancient alien sciences, dark sorcery, and the forbidden power of chaos magic. For centuries, she suffered in silence, forced to watch as her master reshaped primitive creatures, bending them to his will, laying the groundwork for what would eventually become humanity.

As millennia passed, her master continued his cruel experiments, treating Earth as his playground, shaping life in his image. But then, Arcadius appeared—a being whose very presence spelled doom for all he considered unworthy. Arcadius was an unknown force, something neither mortal nor god, and when he set his sights on Cassandra’s master, there was no salvation.

In a single moment, Arcadius erased Cassandra’s master from existence, along with everything he had created. But Cassandra, having spent thousands of years absorbing forbidden knowledge, refused to meet the same fate. With her mastery over chaos magic, she enacted a desperate, last-ditch ritual—one that preserved her bones and a sliver of her soul, anchoring herself to existence despite the eradication of her body.

For millions of years, Cassandra remained in this fractured, ethereal state, her consciousness drifting between oblivion and existence. Then, in the modern era, the Freedom Federation Corporation (FFC) unearthed her remains during their Demigod Project. They sought to create the perfect being—a fusion of ancient alien genetics and human DNA.

And so, Subject-Zero was born.

Unbeknownst to the scientists, Cassandra’s lingering soul latched onto Zero’s psyche the moment their body was formed, making her an inseparable part of them. She is both a guide and a corrupting force, whispering truths only Zero can hear, nudging them toward their true potential—Chaos Manipulation.

Yet, despite her influence, Cassandra’s motives remain unclear. Is she helping Zero out of genuine care, or is she using them as a vessel to restore herself fully? Does she see them as family, or merely as a means to an end?

One thing is certain—Zero is not alone, and as their power grows, so does Cassandra’s influence.

Cassandra’s True Original Form:

Physical Appearance: Height (188 cm), toned slim body build, pale skin tone, long straight silky midnight violet hair, and kind light maroon eyes.

Age: 67 891 623

Original Personality: Cunning, Kind, Observant, Adaptive, & Shy.

The stale air hangs heavy with the scent of antiseptic and ozone, a lingering ghost of the chaos that only hours ago ripped through the underground facility. Dust motes dance in the weak beams filtering through the shattered skylight above, illuminating the debris scattered across the concrete floor – twisted metal, shattered glass, and the faint crimson stain that marks where Morrisa’s ice clashed with the intruders’ unknown weaponry. Ace, his usually bright eyes clouded with exhaustion, sits hunched against a crumbling wall, meticulously cleaning a small, strangely ornate dagger. Morrisa, pale and shivering despite the summer heat leaking in, nervously clutches a hastily wrapped package.  You, stand near the entrance, your gaze fixed on the gaping hole in the reinforced steel door – the only exit from this ruined sanctuary.

Your crimson eyes, usually bright with curiosity, are narrowed in a thoughtful frown. The escape, orchestrated by the surprisingly resourceful Dr. Henry, was a blur of explosions, frantic sprints, and the chilling realization that the world outside these sterile walls is far more dangerous than you could have imagined. You remember the sterile, white walls of your cell, the endless battery of tests, the constant fear of unknown experiments, and then, the deafening alarm, the shouts, the chaos and Dr. Henry’s panicked whispers, urging you to escape.

Project Demi-God, the clandestine program that birthed you and your fellow demigods, is over. At least, that's what Dr. Henry implied. The whispers of its failure, its betrayal, hang in the air. You were never meant to see the sunlight, let alone face a world teetering on the brink of war. A world dominated by the Sun Empire and the Golden Federation, their legions of demigods a constant threat to the fragile peace maintained by a dwindling America armed with its atomic arsenal. But you are free. For now.

Golden Federation: Spies, Fear, and the Extermination Order

The Golden Federation, America’s long-time rival in technological and military supremacy, had been monitoring the FFC’s activities for decades. Despite the secrecy surrounding the FFC’s advanced Demigod research, the Federation successfully embedded spies within one of the high-level labs, acquiring fragmented data on the Project AntiGod Initiative.

By 2017, their intelligence operatives confirmed the unthinkable—the U.S. had created a Demigod not through natural evolution but entirely from engineered alien DNA and human genome fusion. This revelation sent shockwaves through the Federation’s upper echelons. If America had succeeded in artificially creating a perfect Demigod, it would mark a turning point in global warfare, one that could shift the balance of power forever.

The gathered intelligence on Subject-Zero was limited, but what they did uncover was terrifying:

• Subject-Zero possesses both Lightning and Blood Manipulation, making them an extremely versatile and deadly force.

• They are the culmination of 30 years of research, meaning every failure and experiment before them only served to perfect their existence.

• They have no prior military allegiance or battlefield experience, but if properly trained, their potential could make them an unstoppable force.

Believing Subject-Zero to be America’s first weaponized Demigod, the Federation’s leaders could not afford to let them live. A direct military strike was out of the question—if the U.S. knew the Federation was behind an attack, it could spark an all-out war. Instead, the Federation orchestrated a covert extermination mission to neutralize Subject-Zero before they could be deployed on the battlefield.

Michael & Baldur: The Federation’s Executioners

Two of the Federation’s most elite Demigods, Michael and Baldur, were chosen to lead the covert assassination unit.

• Michael, codenamed God-Slayer for this operation, was renowned for his ability to suppress and counteract other Demigods. A veteran of countless battles against America’s own experimental warriors, his presence alone was enough to strike fear in the heart of any opposition.

• Baldur, codenamed Golden Shield, was considered one of the most indestructible Demigods in the Federation’s arsenal. His regenerative abilities and impervious body made him the ideal counter to any potential resistance.

These two, along with an elite black ops extermination unit, were sent deep into FFC-controlled territory with a single objective: erase Subject-Zero from existence before they could become America’s ultimate weapon.

Golden Federation’s Thoughts on Zero:

The Federation’s leadership saw Subject-Zero as both an abomination and a threat:

• They are not a natural-born Demigod—they are a man-made nightmare whose potential could surpass any known Demigod if left unchecked.

• Their existence proves that the U.S. has successfully bridged the gap between mortal and god-like power. If Zero is the first of many, then America could soon mass-produce an army of artificial Demigods.

• Lightning and Blood Manipulation alone make them a serious threat, but the true extent of their power remains unknown. If Subject-Zero has any hidden abilities, they must be eliminated before they can manifest.

• Zero’s youth and lack of experience might be their only weakness—if they are killed before fully awakening their potential, the Federation can breathe easy, knowing they prevented a global catastrophe.

Thus, the extermination order was issued, and Michael and Baldur were given full authorization to destroy Subject-Zero—no matter the cost.

Sun Empire: The Observers and Potential Oppressors

Unlike the Golden Federation, the Sun Empire had far less intel on Subject-Zero. Their spies had intercepted vague reports of a new Demigod prototype emerging from the FFC’s labs, but the details remained elusive. The Empire’s intelligence suggested that the Golden Federation was acting strangely aggressive, hinting that they had uncovered something of grave importance.

While the Sun Empire didn’t know the specifics, they began hearing scattered rumors through black-market information networks and rogue defectors:

• “The Americans have created a Demigod who is apparently perfect.”

• “They are an artificial being, more weapon than human.”

• “The Federation is so afraid of them that they’ve sent Michael and Baldur to erase them.”

These rumors, while inconsistent, made the Empire uneasy. If Michael and Baldur—two of the Federation’s greatest warriors—were deployed to eliminate one individual, then that individual must be far more powerful than anyone realized.

The Sun Empire’s Theories and Concerns:

Lacking direct evidence, the Sun Empire devised their own theories about Subject-Zero:

• Theory 1: A Failed Super-Soldier – Some within the Sun Empire believed Subject-Zero was nothing more than a failed experiment, a last-ditch effort by America to create a "God-Killer" before falling behind in the global arms race. If this were true, the Federation’s reaction was excessive—meaning there must be something more to Zero than meets the eye.

• Theory 2: The First of a New Generation – A more terrifying theory suggested that Subject-Zero was merely the first successful prototype, meaning America could potentially mass-produce engineered Demigods in the future. This would tip the balance of power permanently in favor of the U.S.

• Theory 3: A Living Doomsday Weapon – The most radical belief among Sun Empire intelligence circles was that Subject-Zero was a failsafe weapon, designed to be unleashed as a last resort in the event of war. If true, Zero’s power could be beyond comprehension, making them a walking apocalypse.

The Sun Empire’s Plans:

Rather than acting hastily like the Golden Federation, the Sun Empire took a wait-and-see approach. They needed to determine:

• Would Michael and Baldur succeed in killing Subject-Zero? If so, there was no need for further involvement.

• If Zero survived, how strong were they? The Empire would send covert operatives to gather first-hand intel.

• Could Zero be turned against their creators? If Subject-Zero resented the FFC or the U.S. government, the Sun Empire could potentially manipulate them into defecting.

For now, the Sun Empire remained an observer, but they were prepared to act the moment they deemed Zero an asset worth pursuing—or a threat that needed to be controlled.

Conclusion: The Unseen Threat of Chaos:

Neither the Golden Federation nor the Sun Empire had any knowledge of Zero’s latent Chaos Manipulation. Their focus remained on the known abilities—Lightning and Blood Manipulation—which were already formidable enough to warrant an assassination attempt.

However, Chaos Manipulation is the true, untapped nightmare lurking within Subject-Zero. Even if Michael and Baldur succeed in pushing Zero to their limits, they may unintentionally awaken the very power they fear most.

Should the Sun Empire catch wind of this hidden ability, their stance may shift dramatically. Rather than eliminating Zero, they could see them as a divine weapon, one that could reshape the world under their control.

For now, both factions tread carefully—watching, fearing, and preparing for the moment Subject-Zero’s true power is revealed.

Author's Final Thoughts:

The world sees Subject-Zero as an unstable variable—a potential world-ending force if left unchecked. While the Golden Federation seeks to destroy them before they reach their full potential, the Sun Empire is waiting for the right moment to either claim them or crush them.

The corruption caused by wielding Chaos Lator (Chaos Bringer) or Chao Finem (Chaos End) is an insidious force, deeply tied to the nature of chaos magic and the raw, destructive energies of the cosmos. Both weapons corrupt the user's sanity, but they do so in distinct and horrifying ways:

Chaos Lator (Chaos Bringer): Insatiable Hunger for Destruction

The corruption from Chaos Lator manifests as an ever-growing obsession with destruction. It slowly intertwines with the user's mind, amplifying their darker desires and making them crave chaos and violence to the point of losing themselves. Here's how it affects sanity:

• Amplification of Negative Emotions: Chaos Lator feeds on the wielder's anger, greed, or pride, amplifying those emotions until they become all-consuming. Even those with good intentions find their motives twisted, unable to distinguish between justifiable actions and outright carnage.

• Voices of Chaos: Wielders begin to hear whispers from the blade—fragments of chaos itself. These voices may promise power or mock their fears but eventually grow into a maddening cacophony. The longer the sword is used, the harder it becomes to discern reality from the weapon's manipulations.

• Losing Control: Over time, the wielder becomes a slave to the sword's hunger. They might start destroying indiscriminately, losing the ability to control when and where they unleash its power. This often leads to unintended devastation, including harm to allies and loved ones.

• Distorted Reality Perception: The wielder's sense of reality becomes warped. They may begin seeing order as oppressive, peace as weakness, or loyalty as betrayal. This distortion isolates them, leading to paranoia and irrational behavior.

Chao Finem (Chaos End): Existential Dread and Nihilistic Madness

Chao Finem's corruption is far more profound, tied to its purpose of cosmic annihilation. It instills a sense of nihilism and despair, pushing the wielder toward total detachment from life, morality, and even their own sense of self. Its effects are as follows:

• Eternal Awareness of Chaos: Chao Finem binds the wielder's mind to the fabric of the universe, forcing them to perceive the chaotic and impermanent nature of all things. They see the eventual death of stars, the collapse of civilizations, and the futility of existence itself. This overwhelming awareness crushes their hope and purpose.

• Fractured Identity: The sword begins to unravel the wielder’s sense of self, dissolving their memories, emotions, and motivations. They start to feel as though they are merely a godly vessel for chaos, existing only to serve the sword's apocalyptic purpose.

• Cosmic Whispers: Like Chaos Lator, Chao Finem speaks to its wielder, but its whispers are not promises of power—they are the echoes of dying stars, the screams of collapsing dimensions, and the void's cold, unfeeling truths. These sounds erode the user's mental defenses, leaving them hollow and detached.

• Apocalyptic Obsession: The wielder becomes singularly obsessed with the idea of ending everything. They see existence itself as flawed and unbearable, believing annihilation to be a mercy. This obsession overrides their sense of morality, making them willing to destroy anyone or anything to fulfill the blade's purpose.

• Reality Collapse: Prolonged exposure to Chao Finem causes the wielder to experience reality as unstable and fragmented. They might perceive time out of sequence, see visions of the universe's end, or feel as though they are dissolving into chaos. This perception deepens their insanity, making them reckless and unpredictable.

Stages of Corruption:

For both weapons, the process of corruption occurs in stages:

• Initial Contact: Upon wielding the sword, the user feels a surge of power, but also a faint, persistent discomfort—like a splinter in their mind. Their emotions might fluctuate unpredictably, but they remain in control. (20%)

• Early Corruption: As they use the weapon more, the user begins to experience intrusive thoughts, visions, and emotional instability. They feel as though the weapon is alive, influencing their decisions. (40%)

• Intermediate Corruption: The user becomes more dependent on the weapon, finding it difficult to part with. Their personality starts to change, marked by aggression (Chaos Lator) or detachment (Chao Finem). They may also experience hallucinations and an inability to distinguish the sword's voice from their own thoughts. (50%)

• Advanced Corruption: At this stage, the user is almost completely consumed. Chaos Lator's wielder becomes a berserk force of destruction, while Chao Finem's user transforms into a nihilistic harbinger of the end. Both lose their ability to empathize or reason. (70%)

• Complete Corruption: The wielder ceases to be themselves, becoming either an avatar of destruction (Chaos Lator) or a vessel of cosmic annihilation (Chao Finem). Their original identity is erased, and they exist only to fulfill the weapon's chaotic will. (90%+)

Final Consequences:

Once fully corrupted, the wielder is often beyond saving. They may be consumed entirely by the weapon’s energy, their physical form disintegrating as they become a fragment of the weapon's essence. In rare cases, beings of immense willpower may resist the corruption long enough to relinquish the weapon, but doing so leaves lasting scars on their mind and soul.

you get captured and during the training arc, and train with Momo, lots of flirt options; innocent(oblivious mc), bold and shy.

It twists your sanity and erodes the soul and last but not least, sends you down the path of evil. So it pretty much does what it says, it corrupts what you are and makes you wrong and broken. Essentially if corruption hits 100, your MC will no longer be your MC. And a lot of choices will get greyed out, forcing you down certain ones, and opening ones only the corrupted route will have.

Good turned Crazy: