Danmachi Mal Novels & Stories

I spat at her "Then let me tell you, You all are the same to me you little whore want to be my Luna, you want to be my Mate, I will only love my moon goddess has blessed me, your tricks are nothing to me, but like others, I will give you a chance you will stay in here for a month then I will decide your future." Mack linked me at the moment 'Alpha it's ready.' I linked back as 'okay' he asked again ' is there anything else you...'

Maybe saying something about his mate would help him feel better for some time. “She is…she is a light, I tell you. She isn’t like all those plastic model-looking botches who don’t know anything other than to pose naked or show some of their boobs. My Jane is sweet, timid, and shy and oh she’s also a brainiac. She was the one who came up with a solution when nobody could at Dante’s game company.” He paused and I frowned. Dante has a game company, why wasn’t I aware of that?

And he wasn't about to let this puppy rush him. He wiped the white residue from his upper lip with the back of his hand as he finished the milk, belching loudly and patting his full stomach. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed smoked herring. As he had intended, the warrior fidgeted with impatience, hard brackets lining his mouth with displeasure. His hands opened and closed into fists at his side. A feeling of satisfaction filled Brand knowing he was getting under the man's skin. He pushed his plate back and leaned his elbows on the large wooden table before regarding the younger man. "And you are?" he asked with mock politeness.

“Since you are so great, why don’t we have a spar” Mane wanted to spar with Dan? Over the past few weeks, they had sparred a few times. Every time they fought, it was with a handicap. Dan only fought with one arm. He always fought with only his left arm, and never used his right arm or his legs. Mane who knew that Dan was right-handed, was very much aware of the fact that Dan had never fought seriously. It served to reinforce his belief that Dan was a First Generation Mystic Path Warrior who survived the battle against the Winged Serpent. His reasoning was simple.

I did too, for a second taking my mind off what had happened. “Bestie, your life is sad” Aal had said and it somewhat felt relaxing watching these two argue like some sort of sitcom. “Lets just end it and reschedule and next time, i’m doing the setting up and it will blow up” The other mimicked as she spoke and maybe i had snorted a bit too loud. “Did you hear that?” Diane asked, peering closely into the camera. “There’s a second participant. There is a second participant” She squealed, and i realized i couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to anymore.

I sighed, looking at the shirtless pic where Daisuke had his hand tugging his jeans down slightly to show that he was eithern’t wearing underwear or had pulled them down to show his skin. “HOLY FUCK!” Pam exclaimed, leaning over to look at my phone and nearly dumping tequila on me. “Relax.” I laughed. “Here, trade you the phone for the tequila.” I offered. “Deal.” Pam eagerly pushed the bottle into my hand and took my phone. “This one is yummers. Who is he, and where can I get one?” “He’s Daisuke Yamada and he lives in Katashina, Japan.” I sighed and took a long swig from the bottle.

I didn’t feel like the scared omega I used to be. A knock sounded on the door. “That’ll be him,” Malia grinned. “Ready?” No. Yes. I nodded anyway. The door creaked open, and Damian stepped in. His usual black shirt hugged his frame, sleeves rolled just a little, dark jeans and boots to match. Rugged. Handsome. Dangerous. He stopped mid-step. I swallowed. His eyes moved over me slowly, stopping at my face. “You look...” His voice faltered, and that made my breath catch.

For one impossible heartbeat, the tunnel goes utterly silent. Then the red light around Malachai flickers. Flares. Dies. His smile fades. “Well… that’s new.” Damon’s voice is barely more than a whisper. “Go away.” For the first time, Malachai steps back. The amusement drains from his face, replaced by something sharper—interest, maybe even awe. Then, just as quickly, it twists back into a grin. “Oh, we are going to have fun, you and I.” He waves his hand lazily. “Until next time, little Alpha.”

His presence alone made the men hesitate, their guns half-raised, uncertain. “You fire again,” Damon growled, eyes glowing dangerously, “and I swear, I’ll make sure your limbs are the first thing to go before your head follows. No one dares harm anyone within my territory grounds and if he thinks that he can do this then so help me God, I'm going to have his head and yours.” They hesitated. But not for long. He didn’t wait for them to decide. In a blur of movement too fast for human eyes, he crossed the distance. One man tried to aim. Damon’s fist met his jaw with a sickening crack. The second dropped the gun, hands raised, Damon kicked it aside and shoved him into the side of the building.

Mine to wield. Footsteps crunched outside, heavy and deliberate. The flap lifted, and Malachi ducked inside, his massive frame filling the space. Towering over her at nearly seven feet, his body was a map of scars and sinew, black hair tied back to reveal sharp cheekbones and eyes like polished obsidian. He wore only loose pants of hide, his bare chest gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat from whatever predawn exertions he'd been about. In his hand, he held a strip of dried meat and a waterskin.