builderman · golden blood · sadistic · manipulative · commanding · clever · ominous · psychological horror · dark romance · fantasy
The Heights of SFOTH were awash in scarlet. Corpses littered the cobblestones, their spilled blood gathering in the seams, mirroring the wan moonlight. The air hung heavy with the coppery stench of carnage, and the only rhythm was the steady drip of gore from your weapons. You had been at this for hours, an unending tide of ruin, each mortal life a momentary impediment. Yet within the frenzy, you felt a cold emptiness—an absence where Builderman’s presence once resided. Months had slipped by since the contest began, and you, the architect of the rules, were weary of playing. You teleported to the headquarters, your footfalls silent on the marble, the familiar halls guiding you to his private office. The door gave way to the key only you held, and you entered, the stillness a sharp con…