40k Death Korps Of Krieg Novels & Stories

I could see him now, his massive form towering over the battlefield like a specter of death. The battlefield was chaos, a symphony of steel and death. Blood sprayed, weapons clashed, and the wind carried with it the cries of the fallen. Yet even as we fought, the Overlord's soldiers—those twisted, darkened beings—refused to die. Some of them, even with gaping wounds, holes where their hearts should have been, continued to rise. Their black eyes burned with unnatural fire, the dark magic binding them to this earth. They were not dying, not truly. My heart hammered in my chest. If the gammas had been more, we would have more of a chance.

I gripped Ronan’s axe, my knuckles white. "You don't build it with light. You build it with the debt." Adaeze’s emerald glow began to flicker as the Widow’s red mist pressed in. "Every wolf the Council killed. Every mother they burned. Every child they orphaned. They are the Fourth Door. They are the pack that cannot be rejected." Kael lunged. He didn't attack like a wolf. He didn't go for the throat. He drove his salt-heavy shoulder into my chest, throwing me back into the white dust. I hit the ground hard, the wind leaving my lungs.

The Temple of War members stood in formation in an open field, awaiting Alexander's briefing. Nearby, there were more than 10 piles of firewood, sprinkled with solid fuel, and the cold, lifeless bodies of their comrades. Alexander scanned the area, his face cold as a blade, and spoke, "Death Reaper, report." "This operation involved a total of one hundred and one people. Eighteen died in battle, and Duke of War Green Dragon is missing," Death Reaper reported, holding 18 identity tags, his voice firm but his heart filled with sorrow.

Chapter 43: The General’s Mercy ​The field of red lilies didn't smell like flowers. It smelled like iron and old blood. ​The violet sky above Life Zero was thick with the smoke of a thousand burning pyres. I stood in the center of the crimson petals, my breath hitching as I looked at the man ten feet away. ​He wasn't a doctor. He wasn't a fugitive. ​He was a god of war.

I ate and listened to him. "Within the Death Ministry, only Grim can enter. There are only two types of grim that are the Council and the Reapers. The Grim Council are the ones who bring death notes from superiors to be sent to Grim Reapers like me, where we have to fetch the soul of the person written there. When we do not get them at the right time and place, they can escape and just add to the missing souls. In 40 days we should reap them otherwise they will be like the lost soul you saw yesterday. Dark and evil. " I nodded as a sign that I understood him.

He waded deeper, killing without pause. Bodies piled in his wake, the path to the General clearing through sheer slaughter—ten, twelve dead by his hand, limbs hacked, torsos eviscerated, the ground a churned mire of viscera. The General stood amid his faltering line, broadsword slick with blood, eyes widening as Kael bore down like death incarnate. "You!" the General snarled, meeting the charge, their weapons clashing in a shower of sparks. Kael's axe met the sword's guard, forcing the General back step by step from impact.

His own reminder of the oath he broke, while still managing to keep it. ‘I, Enzo, give to you the gift of my life. My life is yours to keep, take, or instruct in any way fit to preserve the life of the Alpha, Luna, and the future of their line. May I seek out death and deter its icy claws in favor of my life for theirs. I am naught but a wall of impenetrable force in the eyes of the enemies of my masters. My life is forfeit at the feet of the ones I serve, for the ones I serve are my only reason for being. I am nothing if I do not live and die for them.’

"Go ahead, he's right there." Aria's eyes followed my gesture, and she erupted, her eyes bulging with fury. "Noelle, that's a hearse! It's meant for the dead. How could you put my son in there? "Have you no humanity? After all the kindness my son showed you!" Feigning confusion, I met Aria's gaze. "Mom, what are you talking about? Hearses are for the dead, and isn't your son, well, dead? I don't see the issue."

His storm-gray eyes swept over her body, dark and completely unhinged with desire. "You are destroying me," Malakor rasped against her lips, his breathing coming in ragged, heavy hitches as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His massive body trembled over hers, his broad hands sliding beneath her hips to lift her to him. "I am the Death King... and I am on my knees for a Null..." "You are not on your knees," Vespera choked out, her hands tangling in his dark, damp hair, pulling his head back so she could look into his gray eyes.

"I felt you going away." "I know, baby. I know. But I'm here. I'm here now." "Don't do that again. Don't—don't leave me like that." "I'll try. I promise I'll try." Kael's hand on both our shoulders. "Come," he said softly. "Let us tend to the living. The death could wait until tomorrow." Evening became night. We gathered for the funeral rites. Forty-two pyres. Forty-two lives. Forty-two warriors who'd given everything.