Romans & histoires Danganronpa Warriors Of Hope

She wasn't quick with her action, it was as if she realized that I am already defeated and have no other options but to submit She wasn't wrong either I had little to no energy inside of me, the throbbing pain and the exhaustion were twisting my reasoning, and I could not see any ray of hope. 'Fuck the ray of hope bullshit! I won't die like this!' I pushed my arms towards the floor and suddenly a rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins and my anger toward 'Faye' numbed my pain I quickly stiffened my fist, and when the distance between her and me was only of few centimeters I raised my fists and struck her face as hard as I could! *bam!* *bam!* "Aaaahh!!!!" I screamed as I punched her! *b

:-D According to the previous chapter. The shades of joy I mentioned. White means we take joy in good things e.g. in love, in kindness, etc. For some black deeds act as fuel of joy. They take pleasure in doing bad to someone and same was the case with Minahil. She was relating her pleasure to Abraham losing the game. And for most the fuel to Joy is grey. Grey is a border line between white and black. A person faces different situations. Sometimes we take pleasure after revenge and sometimes we take pleasure in forgiveness. (;

These lips… I proceeded to touch my supple, red, sultry lips. “These are the ones that saved me from further embarrassment a while ago.” Indeed, if I weren’t too soon excused myself, I could have been laughed at. But wait… these are also the ones who made me slip the chance of having a new acquaintance out of Harold Kang. He was quite interesting. Well, I had only been interested after he proclaimed to be a North Korean defector. “My thoughts are running wild again.” It’s not unusual for my mind to focus on different topics at once. I have been aware of this tendency hence I cannot accept the fact that I lost today’s rare item!

~Hunter’s Point of View~ I was enjoying my nice, quiet day off soaking in my huge tub. It had been a long week and my brothers and I rotated being on active duty and on call. I was aching for my week off. They were few and far between anymore since it seemed like everyday someone else was being a menace, being difficult. My brothers and I were Shadow Warriors, a coalition of various supernatural beings that keep the peace between each other and between our own kind. It’s a damn hard job, but someone has to do it.

"I'll kill you here, break your coalition through fear, and continue my corrections until every weak wolf is purged." "You're nineteen years old, talking about purging people like you're purifying bloodlines. You're not strong—you're radicalized. There's a difference." "I'm strong enough to kill you." Raven attacks. Hope barely dodges the first strike—she's right, Hope's combat skills are minimal compared to trained warriors. But Hope isn't fighting alone. Dante intercepts Raven's second attack, his own blades meeting hers with a clash of steel and magic. "You're fighting children and refugees," Dante snarls. "Try fighting someone your own age."

Names I recognized. Some were dead. Some were supposed to be dead. And in the final frame—Callum’s face. Circled in red. The war wasn’t over. It had just changed shape. But so had we. Stronger. Together. No longer hiding in the garden’s shade. Now we were stepping into the light—with weapons in our hands and something far more dangerous in our hearts. Hope.

Definitely my favorite way to start the day. The wolves charge in as well - all of them. Malakar goes straight after Malachai, but he's met by a barricade of hunters blocking his way. Hope joins the fight - her training with Sarah definitely paying off. They fight together like a swan-dance, taking on the hunters as they surge forward. Hope takes them down and Malakar finishes them off. There's a brief moment when they pause to look at each other - telling each other that they're in this thing together. Till the very end. No matter what.

Alexei (now human but still tactical) ordered 2,000 wolves to stand between Hope and the Progenitors. The battle lasted three minutes before all 2,000 wolves were recalibrated to humans or killed for violent resistance, and the Progenitors reached Hope quickly. "The child comes with us now." The Progenitor leader lifted Hope, who screamed for her mother. "Her exam starts now.”

Only purpose. My quarters stand before me—newly renovated, regal, mine. I place my hand on the door. Pause. This is the second war. Not for power. Not for land. Not for thrones. This is for her. For my Queen. I push open the door. The room is dim, firelight dancing across the tapestries. And there, lying on the bed, still in the ceremonial white of her funeral garb, is Hope. Still. Pale. Beautiful.