Black Reaper Tokyo Ghoul นิยาย & เรื่องราว

And it's horrible. My veins turn black. Visible through my skin. Like ink spreading through water. My eyes shift. I can see it in Kai's horrified expression. They're changing color. Going darker. Going wrong. "Aurora." His voice is tight. Concerned. "Your eyes. They're..." "Black." The Reaper finishes. "Like mine. Like death itself. It's normal. It's necessary. She's becoming death's vessel. Death's weapon. She has to look the part."

The hiss of the draining pod was the loudest sound Sela had ever heard. It filled the small, cold room, drowning out the frantic beat of her own heart. The clear liquid swirled down, revealing the body of the Reaper inch by inch. He was tall, with short-cropped hair and a face that was all sharp angles, even in sleep. He wore the simple grey tunic and trousers of the Citadel, now plastered to his skin by the fluid. His eyelids fluttered.

I don’t doubt that it would stir panic if the second and third demon princes were seen in public. As for Gorshe, he is more useful. With his black flames, he could easily kill and drive away the flies in any location. Unfortunately, there’s only one of them, and he could not easily transport himself from one place to another. At night, it is my turn to help as the Dark Reaper. “Is Belphegor back yet?” I just got back in my room and asked when I felt Mammon and Leviathan returning. Immediately as I closed the door, the two demon princes appeared.

Ashley refused to come down, "You just didn't see it!" "What, you saw it?" Morgan Blackstorm lowered his head and looked at the woman in his arms, but it was too dark around him, he only saw a pair of bright eyes, she blinked, and the long eyelashes were like a small fan. Because they were so close, the long eyelashes just brushed his face like that, and he just felt itchy on his face and heart. "I..." In the middle of speaking, Ashley suddenly stopped, she was a person who died once and was reborn again, and the soul travel really happened to her. But, can she tell Morgan Blackstorm this?

She stirred but didn’t wake. I went into the garage and pressed the hidden switch near the wall, and a section of the floor slid aside, revealing the stairwell to the hideout below. My old colors were there, a black leather jacket with the reaper’s emblem stitched on the back, and I pulled them on piece by piece with the boots, the gloves and the cut. The man staring back at me in the mirror wasn’t the man Serena kissed goodnight; he was the Reaper of the Hellfangs MC, and tonight, he had work to do.

But before he could complete his sentence, his eyes widened in horror. Dabria had stabbed his dark soul with the dagger of Eve. Dabria pulled the dagger out and stepped away from him. Dark flames engulfed Adrian's dark soul. His horrified screams shook the Karts pack lands. "You forgot again that I am not just a vampire. I am a reaper vampire hybrid. And as a reaper, I can kill you with whatever weapon I possess." Dabria finally answered the question Adrian asked her right before his soul was completely burnt.

Yes, I'm dead and hallucinating before whatever it is decides where I go next. The nurse's voice grips my attention again. "Oh, the Scaler. That's the creature that reminds you of the last thing you heard before you died until it's sure your soul is pure. If you've committed many crimes during your mortal life, he will torture you until he is satisfied, but you'll never enter the afterlife. Instead, your soul will enter another body with no memories, and the cycle will start all over again. Since your soul was pure, he set you free and even gave you the chance to fight for your life. That doesn't happen. But maybe..." Her eyes search the room. Something's off with her sudden chance- she's no

I looked between his eyes, watching the black flicker to brown in and out until his beast won, the black consuming the orbs entirely, leaving no white. “You… the gods cursed you? You’re not D…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t Death? He wasn’t a God? It all sounded so ridiculous now that I was about to vocalize it to his face. “I may not be a mortal, but I’m not a God.” He chuckled darkly. “Then what are you?” I asked, terrified to hear the answer. “A reaper.” He whispered, and my blood turned to ice.

He launched himself towards the window, his movements a blur. He changed his form as the glass shattered. In a black cloak that hid his ankles and a mask made of obsidian that concealed his entire face, he was just as the legends had described. It was the Silent Reaper. Raphael swung into action, but he was quicker, which was a shock. He was not a man but a creature of death. One that could not be caught or escaped from. Despite the chaos and attempts to stop him, he deftly escaped, disappearing into the night. Raphael looked down from the window, his crimson eyes glowing like rubies in the sunlight.

he said, his voice low, a rough rasp of calm. Reaper stepped inside, the hallway light casting him in long, intimidating shadows that stretched across the floor. His leather cut hung open over a black shirt, and his dark jeans were grease-stained, familiar signs of his world. There was something off in his posture—shoulders tense, but not in that calculated, ready-to-fight way. This was something else. Worn. Like he carried a weight no one else saw. He glanced at the untouched sandwich on the small table by the window. “You planning on starving yourself?”