Death Battle Ideas Novels & Stories

“Plus, why aren’t we training? Back in the days you couldn’t go a second without asking us to train.” “You have won all your fights.” “Not exactly, the biggest fight of them all, with the most dangerous, most powerful top one fighter in Umbra is yet to happen.” “I told you The Reaper is going to die,” Dale says, mixing a cup of instant coffee. “You don’t know that, you can’t just predict a fight that is yet to happen, this isn’t FIFA. I might actually end up the one dead.” “That won’t happen.” “But you…” “Dora, please,” Dale interrupts. “I will make The Reaper die, so let me enjoy a coffee that might actually be my last.”

Also ready to fight. These people would die for me? ALL of them? It hit me then. A brilliant idea. A way to end this war….

The grass on the field withered instantly, and terrifying death energy spread outward. The exotic beasts in the surroundings had never seen a battle of this scale before and were shocked silly for a moment. They did not react until the death energy reached them and it was already too late. The death energy was like a Grim Reaper. No living things would remain in its path. As for Philip and the deer, they blocked the death energy with their respective methods. The Devouring Ape was not bothered about the death energy at all. It was the one who used this move, so it did not have to worry about it, but it had to consider Philip’s move.

Getting out of the Artemia Kingdom and finishing their intended task without losing a soldiers is the ideal outcome that Samel desires, but the participation of the death soldiers will surely tear apart his ideal if he did not stop them. Death soldiers are pitiful werewolves that were forced to become emotionless puppets that could be controlled by the cause of their sufferings. They do not fear death and injuries, and they merely rush on without caring about anything else than to complete the order of their master. Such soldiers are ticking time bombs that would one way or another change the flow of the battlefield. Killing them is the best solution that Samel could think, because his soldi

The glow in those eyes were growing brighter, and Annabel had this uncomfortable thought somewhere in her mind that if the sculpture got too angry, it could explode, killing her. “No.” Her voice was weaker this time. Still, she could not bring herself to killing a man that had done nothing to him. You just have to think it. What? Think it. Wish him dead. Make it happen. The voice snaked all the way into her mind, caressing it. Slowly, she was getting overpowered by whatever it was the statue was doing to her. She could not fight something that could speak in her mind, something that could, perhaps, control her mind.

Thing that caused Death Compiler to rage. "What escaped? How did she escape? And why did she do that? I thought she wanted to die so she committed suicide and broke my list! Now she merged with the others? Humans are so demented! " In her anger the whole room really shook as if things will not last long from the very strong presence of the Death Compiler.

Bonolo said, "it's enchanted, we have to get across, or we plummet into the river." Dante's eye met mine, "So, basically we all have to spill our darkest secrets to get to the evil-looking cave on the other side, or the platform will plummet us to our deaths?" Bonolo nodded at Dante. "Fan fucking tastic." He growled, "I nominate anyone but me to go first." The platform shook, and we plummeted further down. The sound of the rushing river became louder in my ears. "Well, someone goes first, or we're all going to die!"

I stare at the lovely city of Manchester as I weigh my options. It’s either bankruptcy and death or marriage and coronation. I guess the latter isn’t much of a bad idea, only it is. Whatever the case, my father’s murders must pay. I have a secret after all, I can hardly die.

How do you fight someone who's already dead inside? Tomorrow would tell.

In them, Hank faked his demise, absconding with our fortune and dooming the company to bankruptcy. Elena and I endured collector torment. I succumbed to the abyss, ending it all, and Elena crossed paths with Hank, who was back from the dead. I'd assumed, despite ditching me, he'd spare his daughter some mercy. But no. He stood idle as Laura's goons dispatched her, not deigning a glance at her broken form. The visions looped for a fortnight until the fake-death date crystallized in my subconscious. Two months remained. I called my brother home, tasking him with a covert donation: 20 integrated incinerators to various crematoriums.