Ace Cannon Death Novels & Stories

While I remained poker face and just staring at Death. "The last one is a Golden personalized Shurikens from Ms. Celeste Winchester! She use it to kill the seven hundred reapers and assassin's when she's just 13 years old! That's so amazing right? So as you can si It's like a double star so it's very unique and it's with her name! It's just a Five shurikens so Let's start with 100 Thousand! " I immediately took an interest because of what Death said. So Celeste killed more than 700 people by just using that shurikens? Just Five Shurikens? How come ???? "Two hundred and fifty thousand!"

The first was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Zacian. My mind reeled, pain and shock blurring the edges, but there he was. His eyes locked on me for a split second before sweeping the threats. Gunfire erupted, sharp pops that filled the air with acrid smoke. The man in the suit spun, firing wild, but Zacian moved fast, his shots precise. Two to the chest, dropping him in a crumple of limbs, blood blooming dark on his shirt.

A slug tore through the air, faster than sound. The barrel of the massive cannon exploded. It twisted like a pretzel, metal shrieking. Fire engulfed the forward deck. Sailors were thrown like ragdolls. The shockwave rattled the bridge windows. Cian fell to the floor, scrambling backward in the broken glass. "Get me off the bridge!" Cian screamed. "She's crazy! She's going to sink us!" I watched it all through the targeting camera. I saw Armano stand his ground. He didn't move. He didn't flinch. He just stared up at the drone, his eyes narrowed.

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

It was the scream of a mother who'd seen her child branded. Windows exploded inward. The Hunters collapsed, clutching their ears. Even I fell to my knees, blood streaming from my nose. Only Rachel remained standing—barely—her silver necklace glowing against the pulse in her throat. *Control collar.* Anna blurred forward. The first director died mid-reach, his throat spraying arterial red. The second barely raised his stake before his ribcage caved in. The third turned to run—*mistake*—as Anna's claws severed his spine at the neck.

In them, Hank faked his demise, absconding with our fortune and dooming the company to bankruptcy. Elena and I endured collector torment. I succumbed to the abyss, ending it all, and Elena crossed paths with Hank, who was back from the dead. I'd assumed, despite ditching me, he'd spare his daughter some mercy. But no. He stood idle as Laura's goons dispatched her, not deigning a glance at her broken form. The visions looped for a fortnight until the fake-death date crystallized in my subconscious. Two months remained. I called my brother home, tasking him with a covert donation: 20 integrated incinerators to various crematoriums.

He hit me a full 223 times. I had no power to fight back and could only watch the blood ooze from my lower body before I finally died of excessive blood loss. After confirming that I was dead, he picked up a saw beside him and sawed off my head. The sound of flesh and bones being torn apart by the saw teeth was sharp and piercing. The ground was covered with my blood. 'Connor, I was in so much pain,' I thought. However, Connor touched my thigh the next second, and my breathing paused instantly.

After a thorough investigation by the production team, the details of my past were quickly uncovered. They also confirmed with the relevant authorities that I had, in fact, already passed away. "Three years ago, Nicolas Soros died on a snowy night—frozen to death because he couldn't afford hospitalization. "It wasn't until the autopsy that the coroner discovered that what looked like a thick down jacket… didn't even contain real padding. And that was already the most expensive piece of clothing his mother had ever bought for him. With discounts, it cost less than five dollars.

Jenna was dumbfounded. "You… You were reborn too?" I pressed my lips together, answering, "Yeah. Maybe the universe noticed how unjustly I died, so it gave me a second chance at life. Jenna, in this life, you're going to face the consequences of your greed." With that, I hung up. On the live stream, Jenna was so devastated she couldn't even cry anymore. As Keith wasn't the type to be merciful, he pinned Jenna to the ground and punched her face repeatedly.

I turn my head to get a better look, and a dart whizzes through the air, narrowly missing my face. “Alec!” I point to the wall, where a small dart is stuck. He glances up, and another dart whizzes by. “They have a sniper. Get back.” He pushes me down and then he’s gone, around the corner with lightning speed. There’s a shout and then a sickening crunch. I hear metal breaking and Alec emerges from around the corner, pieces of something metal in his hands. It takes me a second, but then I realize it’s a gun. Or, rather, it was a gun until he broke it into two pieces.