Bullet That Can Kill The Past Novels & Stories

Denzel’s finger tightened. Time slowed. The record crackled. The gunshot exploded. At the exact same moment, I pulled the trigger too. Sound collided with sound. Fire with fire. The world shattered into noise and motion and instinct. Someone cried out. Someone fell. I didn’t know who. I didn’t know where the bullet landed. All I knew was that the past had finally caught up with us—and one of us wasn’t walking away the same. The record skipped. And then….. Silence.

But now, as if I were reaping what I sowed, I heard for myself how evil Petter betrayed me. "But how are you going to transfer all of Amber's property to yours, Petter? Are you going to use the same method as what you did to Amber's parents?" Suddenly, Stella's question made me interested. "How else is that the only way I can take all of Amber's parents' property and kill Amber's parents by sabotaging their car? That way, Amber's parents' property will certainly belong to Amber, and that way I just have to get rid of Amber so that the property becomes mine because I am her husband." The answer Petter gave really shocked me. I really didn't expect that the man I trusted and fought for with al

Before Alistair could pull the trigger, Kabir fired. The kinetic round didn't just travel through space; it tore through Alistair’s personal timeline. The bullet struck the barrel of the black rifle, and in a flash of temporal displacement, the weapon rapidly aged a hundred years in a second, rusting into brittle, brown dust that crumbled out of Alistair's hands. The kinetic force sent the director crashing backward into the buckling elevator frame.

Blake replied, and everyone was shocked to hear Blake’s announcement. “How could you be him? He passed away a few months ago.” The same person called back. “I really need to do a press release,” Blake said mostly to himself. “CESE FIREING AND LET’S TALK THIS THROUGH,” Blake called out through the building again. “To hell with you!” The person shouted and fired at Blake. The bullet never reached Blake, and even if it had, it would have only bounced off of him. “I SEE YOU WANT THE HARD WAY,” Blake said, and his aura became more potent, and many collapsed under the pressure.

Then I thought: this is stupid, and I am not in the mood to bleed for a thesis on male panic. He fired anyway. I had two seconds to think of life and death. Not much for a slow thinker. The sound did terrible things to the air. The first thing a bullet kills is the conversation. I felt the recoil before the impact—the room jerked, the table flinched, the elders remembered prayers they’d retired. There was no time to move, and there was all the time in the world. It’s a neat trick, one I don’t recommend. Something slammed into me that wasn’t metal. It was heat and weight and a grunt that tasted like a lot of pain.

Bullet was smiling at me as if he could really envision that day of him that will surely become the first that will play on his mind when he dies. I nodded my head at him as I continued to listen to him. The food on my plate is now finished. And I know that by now, I should be storming inside my room. But I don’t know, there is something on Bullet that is so hard to go against. That kind of thing that I know, I can’t defeat because he seemed to have this magical magnet on him that will either let you just gravitate towards his inevitable force or will just go to devour you up until you accept your own defeat. “Well, based on what you have told me, at least you have your father’s luck. I hear

He raised the photo, kissed it gently, then set it back down. With a stiff motion, he opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a single silver bullet. It gleamed faintly in the crescent moon light streaming through the window. He rolled it between his fingers, smiling darkly. “This bullet,” he whispered, “will kill not one, but three birds.” He set it down on the desk with a soft clink, then leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting. “I’ll make them destroy each other. Both brothers. And you…” he chuckled to himself, eyes narrowing as he imagined her face, “you little weak omega… you’ll be the spark that lights the fire and burns them both to ashes.”

Roman’s voice fractured, words breaking apart like bones snapping. “You—can’t—erase—” “Watch me,” I hissed. The room went dark. ⸻ Silence. Even the hum of the machinery died. Zach’s arm came around me instinctively, grounding me as smoke drifted from the console. Gia coughed, fanning the air. Then a faint glow flickered on the central display. One line of text appeared — small, sharp, and deliberate. You burned the past. But the blood remembers. The screen went black again.

Romulus shouts as he again tries to beg for his life but a large caliber bullet to his torso shuts him up. Bang! The first bullet seems like it could weaken Romulus by a lot. Bang! The second bullet, Romulus, was on the verge of death. Bang! The third bullet sent Romulus to hell as the regeneration power within his body was completely stopped by the special liquid within the bullet core at the second bullet. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Then all of the bullets got salvo into Remulus’s remaining carcass by Aurelia until she emptied all of the 16 bullets within the pistol chamber.

The gun that has now left, and that bullet can't survive anymore; slowly it is poisoning me, pushing me closer to a death that right now I crave. I can't remove the bullet; I wish I could. I know removing that bullet will hurt far more than holding onto it in the hope the gun comes back, because surely if I am the gun to his bullet, he is just as bad as me. Surely he is broken, crying watching his heart slowly die in his hand? I look up at the picture of us on our wedding day. He said I was the gun to his bullet and if he lost me, he was a dead man, was that just a lie?