Apocalypse Fiction Novels & Stories

Now the power was gone, and in a few days, even cell signals would disappear. When that happened, they would be completely helpless. Ray shook his head. From here on, everyone would turn violent out of despair. And for certain evil people, this disaster would release the darkness buried deep in their genes. Because now, they no longer needed restraint. Once communication collapsed, humanity would essentially return to primitive times. At that point, even if someone committed monstrous crimes, who would ever know? Who would punish them? For ordinary people, the apocalypse was hell. But for the wicked, it was paradise.

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

"You were dead." The next trouble waited until everyone was tired before showing its teeth. In the First Gate, symbols had weight. It made the temple smaller, not larger, because every new rule had to fit inside a room full of frightened people. The cold incense smoke pressed against every window while wet footsteps marked the next turn of the case. Nothing about the Final Gate War felt clean. It felt like another emergency arriving before the last one had been wiped off the stones. "A recurring inconvenience." The archive seals spun around him. Each seal held a name: forgotten gods, unpaid dead, broken vows, erased children, districts swallowed by the first apocalypse wave.

The darkness around him writhed violently like chains. The first Moon-born stared at the abyss in terror. “It’s waking up completely…” Cassian gripped his moonsteel blade tighter. “How do we kill it?” The woman laughed bitterly. “You don’t.” The golden eye blinked again. And suddenly, memories slammed into Lira’s mind. Civilizations collapsing. Worlds consumed. Entire kingdoms erased from existence. Not by the King. By the Abyss. The hunger had never been the apocalypse. It had been a prison. Lira gasped sharply and stumbled.

When they were about to exit the alley, the guard who had full, pale lips and big, brown, round eyes spoke. “There are three of those creatures -” “Tyronimics, that's what they're called.” “Those tyr - tyronimics. There are three of them. I saw them with their monstrous heads before I came into the chamber to warn you all, and I saw them again, also, when we all ran in here. This is Armageddon, the apocalypse! The world is coming to an end.” With that, he went on his knees in a dramatic way - the centre of attention.

Or rather, in a mere 23 years… World War 4 pushed the world to the verge of destruction. That’s when on the 23rd year, July 1st. One of the legendary twelve apostles of the God of Creation suddenly appeared, and ‘it’ decided to put an end to everything. ‘It’ destroyed several of the strongest and leading causes countries of World War 4 in just three days by itself, alone. Even with full preparation to meet against his attacks, not a single one of them is able to take down the apostle— even if it’s the powerful celestial gods who are just one rank below them.

Since pixilettes were in charge of the changing seasons as well as plant life there, she had her hands full. National news in the human realm, which continued to post the countdown to total darkness, was filled with reports of crazed animals and even more demented humans and supernaturals alike. Several church groups believed the world was in the midst of the apocalypse. I could see their point. It was my fault. Again. The plethora of Akuma and the pestilence were consequences of my wish. I saved Laeddin and pissed off the oldest and vilest vampire the world had ever known.

-God, - Ivan joined his hands in prayer in front of his face, "what will become of the world when all the vampires discover this? -In a word? The apocalypse.

I gingerly lowered my body into a crouch and my hand trembled as I reached for the thrown glove. My fingertips grazed the black leather. It was enough. This was the reading I had: At some unknown juncture in time, the whole sky would be covered by a flock of ravenlike creatures as far as the eye could see. They formed an endless, waving parade of dark flags as if to call forth armies against a weakened ruler. This deluge swept and flowed ceaselessly with an entomo-mechanical roar and in its heart, a flame-wrapped titan was laying waste to human cities. It was an Apocalyptic sight and sound. All sources of light were missing in the heavens and the days of darkness stretched on to eternity. Th

Apparently a lot. I had a pit in my stomach. I knew something wasn’t right for while now, I didn’t have a good feeling about the way things were going but I at least thought that we had a little bit of time. I didn’t think that things would go downhill this fast. Not this soon. Not this early. I need more time. I know I said that I was ready to die but maybe now that the time seems so near, I might actually not be ready for it. “The Apocalypse has begun.”