Broken Hero の小説・ストーリー

"It's yours. Whether you drop the campaign against Apex or not. It belongs to you more than it ever belonged to me." "And if I take it and still destroy Apex?" "Then I guess I'll have tried everything I could. And I'll live with the consequences." "You'd really let me destroy your wife's company? Everything she built?" "I'd hate it. But I'd understand it. Because you're hurt. And hurt people hurt people. I can't stop you. I can only offer you another path." Adrian sat down. Stared at the check for a long time. "We're more alike than different," I said quietly. "Both broken by my father. Both trying to build something from ruins.. Both healing. The only difference is I had people who helped m

My Grandma died some few years ago but not after telling me everything I have to know, not after leaving a great burden on my shoulders. It was after her death that I decided to relocate. Thea tried all her best to let me stay but I told her I had to leave for my own good. I know that it is bad and very coward of me to always relocate when I am betrayed. I know I should learn to face my demons but what can a broken person really do? What good can ever come out of a broken Pieces of heart? Thea even insisted to follow me here too but I immediately turned her down and explained things clearly to her and she eventually understood.

I doubted myself for a minute there, but there was no need for it. I turned to see Noel with the purse in his one hand and the other hand punching the man non-stop. "I didn't think Noel was... athletic." I stared at him with slightly parted lips as he kept throwing punches at the man. After a few hard punches, the man's face was every colour except his own. As soon as Noel left him and began walking towards us after giving him a warning, the man fled from the scene, limping away while rubbing his swollen cheeks. "What a hero!" Hazel nudged his arm teasingly. He scoffed at her before returning the purse to the old woman. She thanked us for our help and was on her way after that.

The only person better than Noah is Marcus, the person who trained him. He may be an Omega, but he fought so hard to be one of the strongest and most knowledgeable fighters, which makes it so ironic that this jerk can come into his life and destroy everything he's accomplished. He hasn't cried in so long, and here he's crying for the second time in almost three weeks. Noah hates that Michael makes him weak and brings back the broken person he used to be.

In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.

“Tonight, you let yourself break. Tomorrow, we face your mother’s funeral together. The day after that… we’ll figure it out.” My hands found their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady under my palms. “What if I’m too broken?” “Impossible.” His lips brushed my temple, so gentle it made my heart ache. “You’re the strongest person I know.” The dam broke. All the grief, fear, and exhaustion of the past days crashed over me at once. I crumpled against him, and his arms wrapped around me, holding me together as I fell apart. “I keep seeing it,” I whispered against his chest. “The way James looked at you when he pulled that trigger. His own brother. How can someone hate that mu

"You see the wreckage. I see the man who stood in the wreckage and refused to let it be the end of him. I see the man who uses the skills forged in that hell to protect, not just me, but anyone he believes is being wronged. You call him ‘Worldbreaker’?" Anton turned his head at last, his eyes boring into Kaine. "You're right. He breaks worlds. He broke my world. The sterile, controlled, lonely world I built to keep myself safe. He shattered the walls and let in the light. He broke it open, and in the broken pieces, we built something new. Together."

"You're not dead yet?" He possessed three primary techniques. The first was Heartbreaker. The person could live or die depending on the response to his question. Father Lysander typically masked this technique by lightly tapping his targets with a single finger. Though it seemed like the wounds on their forehead or throat caused their demise, they were actually killed by the destruction of their hearts. Surprisingly, this figure emerged unscathed from Heartbreaker's impact, even livelier than before. This was the power of Chalkos, a divine beast unaffected by Father Lysander's Heartbreaker like ordinary humans.

But he was interrupted by the door swinging open. "Shawn chill, you can't kill her yet." I heard a unfamiliar voice say. I opened my eyes to see another very intimidated man in the door way. He seemed very casual. No shirt, messy hair. It honestly seemed as though he had just got laid considering all the bruises on his neck. "She's our bait, she has to stay alive until they come for her." He said nonchalantly. Shawn clutched the gun tightly in his hand as he kept the gun perfectly aligned with my skull.

The boy was trembling, the gold-violet glow of his hair flickering like a dying candle. "The North belongs to the broken?" The man laughed, a sound like glass being ground into a wound. "That’s a nice sentiment for a Hallmark card, Genesis. But in a high-tier web novel, 'The Broken' are only interesting when they are currently being smashed. If you want to keep the audience, you need a 'Crisis'." Lyra lunged from the shadows, her shadow-wings a violent canopy of violet starlight. She struck the man with her obsidian blade, but the metal stopped inches from his chest, hitting an invisible wall of "Negative Feedback."