Danmachi Hestia Death Novels & Stories

They’re looking at her then step back whispering to each other about killing Wisdom. Wisdom lays the head close to the neck of the dead woman. “I advised you not to try. You’ll be dead before you make a move. If you don’t believe me, you can have a long conversation with Hestia when you join her. She was immortal as you two are but died by my hands.” Wisdom places one hand on the dead woman's chest sending electricity to the heart. “Hestia? you killed Hestia." One of the women walks beside her and then at the lifeless body that isn’t lifeless anymore. She and the other woman can’t believe what they’re seeing as they look at their sister sitting up in the tomb.

I asked, my voice shaking. Damian’s grin widened. “Yes,” he said, taking a step closer. “Isn't it obvious? I killed Hilda. If I couldn’t have her, no one could. I killed her, and I killed your father. I should have killed you too, but I saw you were no threat. Just a weak, pathetic child.” He chuckled darkly. “And guess what? I don’t regret it.”

Pain flared briefly, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the rhythm of battle, letting the pendant’s warmth guide her movements. “Hazel!” Damon called, parrying a strike from a creature larger than any she had seen. Its skin was rough, mottled, and slick with a strange, dark residue. He swung with precision, but the enemy’s strength was formidable. Hazel leapt to his side, her blade cutting a clean line across the creature’s throat. It collapsed with a shuddering hiss, vanishing into the shadows.

She was weak and her voice came more of a whisper. "She's almost dead. Don't worry." It was Hayley. "I was going to it myself. You should have waited for me. Are you hurt?" "I'm fine." With Hayley's reassurance that she was fine, Damian reached over and swept her off her feet. Holding her bridal style. He turned to go his way but stopped after taking some steps. "Kill her." He ordered the other men there. And they did. With a sword driven deep into her heart, Luna resigned to fate. Dead.

A sudden idea popped into my head and I sent him a devilish smile that stopped his chuckling immediately. "If you don't wanna die for your daughter to live then I'll kill her instead." He sat up straight on the couch instantly. "Don't you dare hurt my daughter!" I chuckled and leaned back on the couch and smiled evilly at him. "Its easy drake, all you have to do is die and everything will be fine and your daughter gets to live, simple as that. But if you're not gonna let me kill you then you're simply giving me a chance to kill your daughter instead." He clutched his hair and bowed his head down.

"But I remember the feeling of your hand in mine. And I would rather die in this life than live in one where I don't know your name." ​"Then you will die together!" Silas roared. ​He waved his hand, and the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall shattered. From the darkness outside, a thousand black-winged Reapers poured in, their mechanical stingers humming with the frequency of death. ​"Back to back?" I asked, stepping up to Julian’s side, my Scythe humming in sync with his sword. ​Julian looked at me, a wolfish, familiar smile touching his lips. The silver marks on his face were fully active now, glowing with a brilliance that blinded the front row of nobles.

Lariempi replied softly “But I can make it up to you.” He added after a moment of silence “How?” Amelia asked as she finally turned around to take a look at the god who took up the form of a dashing young man “I can help you evolve and become stronger so you can have you revenge.” He replied “Have my revenge? But the monster is already dead.” Amelia exclaimed “This mystic beast is not the first to slip into the mortal world and it won’t be the last, your husband is just one of several that has died and will die by their claws.” Lariempi said emotionlessly

Just before the door closed, a figure stumbled through the outer containment ward. Coach Kane. His eyes were red and wet, tears streaming openly. He threw himself in front of the transport door, holding a weathered, age-yellowed scroll of records, and slammed it against the door. "Jasmine is dead." His voice cracked into something barely human, the sound of a man who had nothing left to hold back. "Both of them are dead. You killed them both."

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie