Apocalipsis Novela Novels & Stories

Angela Rizzo spent ten years scrubbing floors for the Bellini family. Ten years of whippings, stolen wages, and swallowing her pride like it was water. Then the apocalypse came, and the people she kept alive tied her to a pole and left her for the dead. She died screaming. Then she woke up two months before the end of the world, with a system in her head that could see anyone's secrets and a single goal burned into her bones: never be anyone's sacrifice again. "You think you can talk to me like that because I'm a maid?" Angela straightened her back, her eyes cold enough to freeze the room. Carmela laughed, thick and ugly. "You ARE a maid. You're lower than the rats in the basement, girl.

He takes me into his arms, “Shhh it’s alright. Wanting to see the best in people is not a bad quality Noelle. It just means the world we live in now is wrong in so many ways. Besides, the fight is far from over yet.” He gives me a soft kiss on my forehead, and we go stand at the wall to look at what is going to happen. The darkness slowly clears, and we can see Hades opening up some kind of por-tal. I am assuming he could only open this portal with my powers. As the portal grows big-ger the grounds start to shake. 4 men on horses slowly appear through the portal and I know immediately it is pestilence, war, famine, and death. Hades has brought the apocalypse by opening a portal to the deepes

Vera frowned and asked, “The Apocalyptic Book? I’ve never heard of it before.” “Is that so?” Charlie was somewhat disappointed and said, “I thought that the Apocalyptic Book might have been written by Master Marcius Stark…” Vera said, “My father has never mentioned the Apocalyptic Book, and I have never heard of it either. All my knowledge about Master Marcius Stark comes from what I heard from my father.” Charlie asked curiously, “You have never met Master Marcius Stark?”

It was beyond their knowledge. Clearing his throat, Zadicus began to say, telling them. “Tales of Grievances, Page 1, Dimension of Katastrofi is an imitation of inferno. It was a devilishly long path, an abyss. Unspeakable blasphemy resides there, no human should extend their steps towards a portion of His World. Return. Return. Return.” Tristan and Huzefa eyes widened in appall, not expecting Zadicus would have known about this. What he read about decades ago was now before him.

He gently caressed her cheek with his palm and she swatted him away like an annoying fly still glaring waiting for his answer. "A demon Ally and next to Lucifer you’re THE demon. Your fate is to be the queen of darkness here on this plain, as is it mine to be your King." Drake had never felt so proud and the more she resisted him the more he wanted her. " Queen. Apocalypse. Yours. I don’t think so. Why would I want to help bring about the apocalypse? My father might be a demon, but my mother was human. Part of me is still human. So don't sit there and start with this fate crap because I make my own fate. I refuse to believe that this is the only way." She said it with full hearted conv

The reinforced steel gate opened slowly. Years of dust and weather groaned through its heavy hinges as sunlight spilled across the concrete courtyard beyond. No one lowered their weapons immediately. Neither side trusted easily anymore. That was what almost three years of the apocalypse had taught everyone. Natasha remained where she was, her heartbeat had finally begun to settle, but her thoughts had not. The image of the Night Hunter being thrown backward replayed over and over inside her mind. It's not as if she touched or fired at it. She hadn't even raised her hand, yet something inside her responded.

Every practical compromise made the temple feel less divine and more alive. Every new rule changed how people moved. Survivors stopped crowding the altar and started leaving space for the dead to pass. Ghosts learned to wait at the left side of the steps. Minor gods pretended not to enjoy having a schedule. No one got used to it. They only got better at moving before fear froze them. Daniel flinched. Ava opened the ledger. The page showed one sentence. DANIEL HART DID NOT DIE ALONE. The market lights went out.

Some doors still hung open. Others had blood smeared across them. No military. No police. No rescue convoys. Only silence, which was broken occasionally by distant sirens echoing through the valley below. The apocalypse had moved beyond panic. Now came the collapse. Evelyn stepped over scattered belongings near the edge of the motel lot while Rowan crouched briefly beside an abandoned SUV. “Tank’s empty,” he muttered. Of course it was. Fuel had already become survival. The electronic tone rang softly through Evelyn’s skull.

I grinned, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and turned, grabbing a heavy assault rifle from the side rack. "Daniel, Lucien, come with me." Stepping through the airlock door and onto the high catwalks, the air hit us instantly—thick, foul, and smelling of rust and raw copper. The sky above was a violent, bruised red, while plumes of thick gray smoke billowed up from the once-bustling city in the distance. Screams and car alarms echoed faintly across the valley, a haunting symphony to the apocalypse. I walked along the catwalk, my boots clicking firmly against the steel grating, and stood before the terrified, tense soldiers lining the edge.

The pain of being dismembered was so precise, so unbearable, he could still feel it now. This was not a dream. Holding his head, he replayed the fifteen days of the apocalypse in his mind. They were too concrete, down to every second—especially the last moments. There was only one possibility. "I… I've been reborn." He fumbled for his phone. The date on the screen read March 1. The apocalypse had happened on June 1—he remembered it exactly because he had planned to take his son to an amusement park that day. They'd just stepped outside when the hail began; one ball hit him and the pain had made him question his life.