Dark Avatar Novels & Stories

To sigh. " Finish her." With this being said, he turns around to leave when I scream from behind. Clenching my fists. " W...ho...a..re you!" The man's back stiffens and that's when he runs his fingers through his hair. To let the hood drop. “ Cerberus… they call me Cerberus . The barrier between life and death. And also the loyal servant of her, my Queen. Heratte…” “ The Goddess of Darkness.”

I say a little impatiently, she nods and approaches the laptop, Scott turns it to give her access and can carry out the transaction once she does it, she turns to me and comment “So they made it... D and you made it in...” I frown upon hearing that name, that's what they used to call Dark before joining the organization, why? Because wherever he went he always left a trail of death in his wake… D, for Death. “That's right... and you are?...” she asked, since she finally caught my attention, she smiles and comments wistfully “ready ...” Scott interrupts us verifying the transaction “I doubt very much that you remember me, but let's say that I am one of the many survivors that they ran into on

She could easily hide behind him. “Do you remember Damien?” Ada said referring to the figure emerging from the forest. The guy only wore black pants and for some reason the image of Michelangelo’s David popped into Arthur’s head looking at his torso. White, hard and muscular. Arthur decided that he wanted to look like that too.

said Kevin a little disappointed, and David sighed. "Have you ever played Dark Souls?" David left the sword in the anvil and crossed his arms. "Huh?" "Dark Souls." "Ah, I've only played the VR remake. It wasn't a good experience." Kevin shuddered a little, remembering the innumerable times he got stabbed, burned, slashed, crushed, etc. "Do you remember Sif? the big wolf with the sword?" "What do you- oh," he took a couple of seconds to realize what David meant, then he chuckled and nodded a couple of times. "Do it. I'll be in your debt."

It was a towering machine of glass and chrome, its needle-fine nozzles currently knitting together a skeletal structure of carbon-fiber and lab-grown marrow. "We call them Avatars," Aria explained. "They are biological hardware. We can map your 'Soul-Data'—your quirks, your powers, your memories—into the neuro-chemical pathways of these bodies. You won't just be 'Simulated' anymore. You’ll be Biological Entities in the Macro-verse." The Price of the Print "There’s a catch," Kael said, his orange fire flaring. "There’s always a catch when someone offers you a life."

"There is only the Debt." The return to the Citadel was not a race; it was a funeral procession. Wherever the steam-sleds traveled, a wake of grey rot followed in Audrey’s path. The "Perfect" forest died as she passed, the sapphire glass shattering into dust. The Avatar was waiting at the gates of the Citadel. She had grown to thirty feet tall, her limbs now massive crystalline boughs. She looked at Audrey and screamed—a sound of pure, celestial static. "YOU BRING THE VOID INTO THE GARDEN!" the Avatar roared.

A shifting, high-definition avatar of the man who had bought the world. "Clara," the wind spoke, the voice sounding like a thousand boardrooms in unison. "Look at the peace I have bought you. No more Auditors. No more wars. No more loss. We are finally... Stable." "Stable is just another word for Dead, Julian!" Clara shouted, stepping toward the avatar. "Look at the gardener! Look at the birds! They’re trapped! You haven't saved them; you’ve Archived them!"

Yet, sometimes they still called me with name since I said it was okay to use my real name here. My avatar, a miniature dragon, flickered its tail, acknowledging the call. Bear, rabbit, eagle, tiger, and more roamed this space, each avatar as unique as its user. Our leader, Number 1, had chosen a majestic white tiger that stood upright on two legs with white robe. "Number 10, have you adjusted well to the sleeping capsule I sent over four months ago?" inquired Number 2, his voice emanating from an old monkey avatar with notably long arms.

he keeps talking, speaking about being a homophobic jerk. I took a sip of my coffee but it didn’t taste the same, it wasn’t even good to begin with, I placed the cup on the table, placed some money on the table and left the café angry, my mood is as sour as always, and they doubt if I have a soul. I clearly have one, a dark one, one that’s filled with darkness and pain, with no one to be there for me, to bring light to my darkness.

His concern was palpable, even through the speaker. "We're fine, Justin. Damon… not so much," Ava replied, her voice clipped. "He got speared with some kind of existential anti-matter. Long story. Short version: he needs an 'Echo of Creation' found in a 'celestial graveyard' guarded by 'divine eaters.' Your cue to be useful."