Apocalypse Of All Races の小説・ストーリー

Grid position two: Dax Mercer, Blackclaw. Grid position three: Shade Wolf. "They flagged my tank," I said. "They flagged the tanks most likely to finish," Juno said. "If the top three racers hit the compound mid-race—frenzied, out of control—it looks like a catastrophic accident. Pile-up on the final straight." She closed the file. "Nobody survives a pile-up at Redline speeds." The room was quiet. "They're not trying to stop the race," Ash said. "They're trying to use it. Magnus gets arrested, the evidence goes public, but the Final kills the Rebellion's figurehead and takes two other racers with it. Clean. Deniable."

"We… how could we… hurt our own daughter like this!" They collapsed onto the sofa, regret appearing on their faces for the first time, but that awakening came too late. I no longer needed it.

I didn’t expect the patch to come so soon. In the second month after the battle, the rooftop radio suddenly crackled to life with a crisp broadcast voice. "The Atlas Geothermal Initiative is now active. Surface temperatures will gradually recover. Rescue is on the way." Rhys and I just stared at each other. So this wasn’t a solo survival game after all. It was online, and the admins had finally logged in. A week later, a military helicopter landed in the open lot. Registration and verification went quickly. The officer in charge clapped me on the shoulder. "Turning the apocalypse into a warehouse operation! You’re one of a kind."

I had underestimated just how shameless they were. She continued, "Each of them is built like a tank. It's the end of the world. Why would they settle for taking orders from you? Even if you have all the money in the world, what does it matter?" It hit me all at once. Victoria was right. In the apocalypse, no one wanted to be under someone else. The man whose arm had been snapped on the first day cursed beside her. His resentment was obvious. "Stop wasting time talking to him. I say we break the door down right now. I'll cripple him myself and throw him out to the zombies."

"That's right, young lady. Don't be too ruthless! Hurry and give everyone some food!" More and more people chimed in. "Calm down, everyone." I chuckled and paused for a moment. "You can have some food. But Uncle Adam, we're in an apocalypse. You have to follow the rules." "What rules?" Uncle Adam asked anxiously. "Give me five million dollars or call me 'Master.'" Some of the people who came with him could not help but burst out laughing. Uncle Adam's face turned crimson as he trembled with rage, but he could hear the faint roars of zombies behind him. The commotion they made had attracted the zombies.

"I don't know exactly how many groups will actually show up." A faint smile appeared on his face. "But once valuable resources are involved..." He chuckled softly. "You can count on at least a few of them making an appearance." Ivy nodded thoughtfully. "Do you trust them?" Erick immediately laughed. "Trust?" He shook his head. "There's no such thing as trust in the apocalypse, Captain Ivy." His expression gradually hardened. "The person standing beside you today..." He looked toward her. "...could be the very same person who stabs you in the back tomorrow."

I woke up in the pack clinic after my ninety-ninth blood donation for my twin sister, Maeve. She’d been cursed by an evil witch since birth—a dark curse that could only be sustained by the blood of her twin. My blood. But this time, the repeated donations had come with a cost. The healer said the years of constant blood donations had finally broken my body down, causing me to develop a rare blood disease, Aplastic anemia. And my wolf's healing couldn’t fight this because she's too weak and drained.

20 October 2021 Her breathing stopped. "No..." She immediately pulled out her phone with trembling hands. The screen displayed the exact same date. 20 October 2021. Her fingers began to shake uncontrollably. This isn't possible... The apocalypse... It hadn't happened yet. This was three years before the world ended. She quickly tapped the shoulder of the student sitting beside her. "What date is today?" The student blinked. "...October twentieth." He frowned. "Did you hit your head or something?" Seraphina slowly turned toward the window.

“Throughout my life I've seen various races destroy or try to destroy each other, for what?” “You tell me,” I snark. “Nothing,” he ignores that. “In the end, there isn't a God or a Goddess to praise or bless them. The only end result of their labors would just be death. Pointless death. I despise that. What would the end result of all this murder be? A world that is devoid of diversity? A world that only belongs to one single people? No. All the races that exist should continue to exist in unity, and I want to facilitate that.”

For weakness was meant to be trampled upon; to be molded into strength. The year was 101A; 101 years after the apocalypse. The apocalypse started like any other apocalypse – by human hands. And the prime culprit was the Emperor of Darkness. A man who was also known by the titles Beast Emperor and Death Killer. For he emerged from the abyss men had dug for him with an army so vast that the world above couldn’t contain it. He was a man who wasn’t a man. He was a being who wasn’t a being. He was wrath itself. He plunged the world into chaos, taking back all it had stolen from him in a vengeful pursuit that devastated over half of the world. Half of the world was desolated by his hand. The othe