A Silent Voice Shouko

"I see death... A lot of dead bodies where you are going," the voice of the soothsayer flow back into his mind. "The island I am posted to is peaceful. Did you mean there will be a natural disaster?" "No. It's your bad luck. I see death coming in the shape of a baby and swallowing everything and everyone else. Be careful and don't ever turn the page." "What are you talking about?" The old witch was silent after, and Zuma was shoved off by the next customer in line.

They called him Pauper Benedetti. The boy with three shirts, the charity case no one believed in. But when Marco returned after five silent years—he didn’t come back poor. He came back as the War God, forged in fire, crowned in blood, and wealthy enough to make billionaires tremble. He walked into Oriana Caruso’s engagement wearing a cheap suit and carrying a velvet ring box. He left with a wife. Just not the one anyone expected. Isabella Caruso—the quiet, unwanted sister—was the only person who dared speak the truth for him. While Oriana laughed, while society mocked him, Isabella stood alone. So Marco knelt before her with a pink-diamond necklace worth more than the entire ballroom. “Marry me,” Marco said, voice steady. “Why me?” Isabella whispered. “Because when the world pointed guns, you were the one who didn’t flinch.” Now Isabella wears the necklace society can’t stop staring at—while Oriana glares with burning regret. Because the War God didn’t just return wealthy. He returned powerful. And he’s not done. Billionaires will kneel. Families will fall. The world will learn exactly who Marco Benedetti is.

Jackson found no words to respond; he remained silent, holding the divorce papers. He felt numb, detached from the world around him. His wife's words and actions had left him shattered, unable to believe that their relationship had abruptly ended with no chance for reconciliation. As he stared at the divorce papers thrown in his face, he felt a sense of finality and loss engulfing him. He could only blame himself for everything that had happened – if he had been honest with his wife about his situation, perhaps things would have taken a different turn. Walking down the street lost in his thoughts, he heard his phone ring. Initially, he didn't want to answer; he wasn't in the mood to receive more bad news. But something in his gut told him to take the call. "Hello?" he answered reluctantly. "Young sir! Your grandfather informed me to contact you. 100,000,000 has been deposited into your account, and tomorrow your exile period will end. You'll regain control of your company, and the family is coming to welcome you back," the voice on the other end explained. Checking his phone, he indeed saw the deposited amount. Everything was falling back into place. Jackson replied hesitantly, "Tomorrow, I'll turn twenty-five." His mind returned to his old life in the palace and prestigious companies, where he was a rising star before being suddenly banished. He had always wondered when he would return. The voice from the phone continued, "Young sir! Your exile period has ended, and your companies are ready to welcome you back with open arms. We need you, Jackson – you are the heir to our companies, and we cannot do without you."

The dying star pulsed, it’s heart on the verge of collapse. Twelve figures, cloaked in unimaginable power, stood amidst its final throes. On one side, six beings (the angels) blazed with light so intense, it dwarfed the star's dying brilliance. Across from them, five figures (the demons)exuded a chilling darkness, a black hole's silent hunger, their very presence accelerating the star's demise. And in the center of this cosmic ballet of light and shadow, stood Reaper. He seemed to absorb the dying star's essence, his form cloaked in a darkness deeper than any of the others, a living embodiment of the star's final, terrible scream. But then, the things discussed were by no means simple, the fate of the world was resting on their soundless star toppling discussion. The intensity of the conversation loomed above the star like an omen of death, accelerating it's death even further. Suddenly, the figure in the middle broke the sacred rule, yelling in a language that speaks for all, his voice was like the rushing of a mighty wind. I Reaper, will dethrone and destroy that God, make him pay for neglecting us all and if you don't join me, you will all suffer the same fate. The faces of the angels and demons -a vortex of light and darkness- went grim as they moved to strike down the tyrannical being. But before they could, Reaper, the demon of death and chaos was gone. Our story...begins here.

James was a normal boy until, on such a dark and silent night, a vigilante appeared with the bad news that he had hidden powers. With a very big responsibility he had to fight with the inner spirits of him.

James Caldwell has always been the silent protector of his wife, Sophia Carver, as she rose to fame. But on her birthday, everything shatters when she abandons James and their dying 6-year-old daughter for her first love.

Daniel Wells is a man of mystery, once the silent force behind his ex-wife’s success. He is satisfied with being the force behind, but when he is despised and ridiculed, pushed to the edge, he’s ready to rise and reclaim what’s his. In a world of fame, betrayal, and hidden motives, nothing is what it seems.

“So this is what you really want, Jasmine?” he asked, his voice calm yet laced with an undercurrent of disappointment. “After everything?” She crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “Let’s not pretend there was ever an ‘everything’ between us. You don’t get to guilt me, Ethan. I’ve been miserable, living with a man who has no drive, no ambition. I’ve wasted enough time.” Ethan’s mouth tightened, but he stayed silent, letting her words sink in. She’d always seen him as a failure, the quiet husband who blended into the background. And now, with the prospect of a new life on the horizon, she was willing to cast him aside without hesitation. In that moment, Ethan felt something within him shift—a quiet yet powerful resolve. She had no idea who he was, what he had done for her, and the lengths he had gone to support her dreams while sacrificing his own. The weight of his hidden life, his secrets, his true identity, all of it bore down on him, but he remained silent. He calmly reached for a pen, signing his name with a steady hand. As he finished, he pushed the papers back to her, his eyes meeting hers with a new intensity. “You’ll get what you want, Jasmine,” he said quietly, each word filled with a weight she couldn’t quite decipher. “But I want you to remember this moment.” She blinked, confused, perhaps even a little unnerved by his composed demeanor. “Remember it? What are you talking about?”

In a silent hall, confused voices rose, expressing disbelief and recounting tragic deaths—stabbing, plane crash, shooting. Amidst them stood a man, contemplative. Memories surfaced, hinting at a shared fate. Recognizing a pattern, he scanned the room, finding an angelic figure named Aurelia. Ethan, one of the survivors, felt a surge of fear and hesitation. What fate awaits our hero?

He still lives in a rented apartment but controls empires worth over a hundred billion dollars. They mocked and belittled him, but he was silent, not because he couldn't fight back, but because if he did, they would all be dead. Now, they've pushed him over the edge, and would soon realise that he had a hundred billion dollars in his rented apartment.