Death Mask Soul Eater Novels & Stories

His tears fell hot and heavy, passing right through my hand as if I wasn't even there. For the first time since becoming... whatever I am now, I actually felt something—Vincent's tears. But despite everything, it was as if he couldn't see me anymore. I waved my arms, made silly faces, anything to catch his attention, but he didn't react. His eyes remained glued to my gravestone. Seriously, Vincent? Staring at that lifeless photo of me, when I'm standing right here? Can't you see me? Frustrated, I glared at him. But before I could do anything more, a gust of wind swept through, and suddenly, I felt weightless. My body, already barely visible, began to dissolve into the breeze. My vision blurr

"It's rare to see arcane implements like this. That explains how Sylas grew so powerful so fast. The talisman probably caused your severe injuries." Homer sighed. "At first, we were evenly matched. Then he did something I didn't expect. He sensed that the men he had dispatched to the York residence had been taken out. In a rage, he unleashed his ultimate move—Soul-Eater Manifestation. He said he prepared it for you originally." Aria's hand froze. Sylas might be behind both the Soul-Eater Manifestation and the Wailing March. Back in Portfall, she had encountered someone who used the Wailing March on her. The effect was instantaneous—the sound was that of infinite spirits crying out in despair

The nexus pulsed, a sickly purple-black orb now visible even to the untrained eye, tangled with ethereal, vein-like cords. The Dream Eater, cornered and wounded, made its final play. It didn’t attack outward. It pulled every shred of remaining power inward and then released it not as a targeted assault, but as a final, draining pulse of absolute despair. The world didn’t go dark. It went empty. Sound vanished. Sensation died. I was floating in a void where the only thing that existed was the crushing certainty of failure, of loss, of the ultimate pointlessness of the fight. I saw Kael lying still and cold. I saw Erica’s eyes, blank and silverless. I saw myself, utterly alone.

"As long as you return, Mom, Dad, and Luke will stop hitting me. They blame me every day, saying that it's my fault that you died and that I have to pay back what I owe you…" I couldn't believe they treated Yvonne so harshly because of me. My cold gaze fell on her, who had once been so glamorous. "Miss, you've got the wrong person." Why was this happening now? In my past life, I kept tolerating them until they drove me to my grave—yet they dismissed it without a second thought. So this time, I orchestrated my death and left of my own accord. But now, they were scrambling to find me. How ironic.

Nyra and Selene turned to leave, shoulders touching in unity, but a soft rustle made them pause. Ember opened her silver-eyed gaze ;, she smiled sleepily, then closed her lids. Ashen shifted, her obsidian eyes fluttered open, just a slit. Nyra froze, her breath caught. Ashen sat up, small hand reaching toward the window’s last golden glow. She whispered, voice faint but chilling : “Mother…” Selene spun, Nyra’s heart thundered. Ashen’s lips curved in that same terrible smile. Her single heartbeat echoed… “I am Death.”

- Death - Death ripped through the lycan territory like a tornado. His scythe tore through house after house and every lycan foolish enough to fight him was swiftly killed. He was crossing through the woods, ready to attack another town when he heard a mocking voice from the trees. "You really think this act of wrath won't have consequences? I hope you got used to seeing human corpses, because now Amaterasu is on her way to Purgatory." It was Amakell.

A scream rumbled from my chest and I hurled the bottle away, letting it fall and crash at a distance before I placed my head in my hands and taught myself how to breathe again. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," A voice says and I lift my head up to see the owner. He leans down and grabs the broken bottle of liquor, he gives it an unsatisfied look before his eyes drift to me. My eyes widen and I shoot up from my seating position, "So, I die and you start breaking very good liquor, I mean," He shrugs, "My soul would hunt you forever." I stay glued to my spot, my brain trying to process. I am hallucinating, aren't I? It must be the alcohol.

So he had to die with my strength. "Albus Wesley, son of Alejandro Wesley. As one of the angels of death. I am reaping your soul, today. You may now perish in the hellish fire of hell." When my hand finally caught fire Wesley was screaming in pain. And as it finally disappeared his body sank to the floor due to my heavy presence and determination. I have to get to hell, this is my only way to know the truth. Things that creatures in the ministry of death cannot say.

Death was right, but the person who caused it would suffer from remorse until he died. Pictures taken of a beautiful birthday celebrated and a picture of a happy family... Demir looked at his watch while sitting on the terrace. It was : and tonight was the end. The day came when he would put his daughter alive in the grave. He took the last sip of his drink and stood up. She staggered to her daughter's room. He grabbed the door handle. He didn't have the courage to open it. He lowered the handle of the door and walked slowly towards his daughter. He was sleeping peacefully. He had told his daughter, his life, everything, one by one, about his plans for tomorrow. He listened and agreed, cryin

Desmond Deville was ranked just under Marcus Novak, which meant he was wealthy and incredibly powerful. My stomach twisted painfully, and I had but a moment’s notice before I was bent over, hurling up the contents of my dinner. My nose burned and my eyes watered, but I couldn’t register the pain over my frantic thoughts. It wasn’t like I hadn’t killed before. Many rogues died during the battle, especially when I used my ability to subdue them. This, however, was confirmation of what I was. A soul-eater. What good could come out of a gift so horrible? What was even worse was how euphoric it felt, how strong and bloated with power I was. Disgust poured from my mouth in the form of acidic vomit