Death Parade End Novels & Stories

Her hand lifted. The boy was thrown aside. He hit the ground and didn't move. Hannah continued forward. I stopped. My chest felt tight. This wasn't revenge. This was slaughter. --- By the time the fighting ended, the pack was gone. The streets were covered in blood. Buildings burned. The few survivors had either fled or surrendered. The Veil stood among the destruction. Hannah and Elena returned to the army without a word. Persephone remained on the hill. She looked satisfied.

“Saw him shoot her like she was game.” I stole a glance at Ryder. He was on the verge of shedding tears and his hands were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. The way his jaw ticked and the fire in his eyes as Charles spoke of Isabella made me want to forget all he did. He suffered and was still suffering. “Where is Pascal right now?” “In his grave.” Elvira was baffled. “In his grave?” “Yeah. She put a bullet in between his eyes.” “Shut your mouth, you piece of shit!” Annalise shouted. “Be quiet.”

Searched for propagation that would end human individuality forever. Unless we stopped it. Unless we succeeded. Unless seventy-two hours was enough time to save species from evolution it never wanted. The countdown had started. The teams were mobilized. The final war was beginning. And this time, ghosts had an army.

Dynasties had bled into its soil. Now, another war had carved its mark across it. “Losses?” Apollo asked. Malachar did not hesitate. “Just over fourteen thousand across all fronts.” The number settled heavily across the chamber. “Confirmed dead?” “Twelve thousand. Approximately two thousand remain unaccounted for beneath the collapse zones created by the Spire's final discharge.” Apollo's gaze shifted toward the battlefield projection. The image adjusted immediately, revealing a section of the Iron Marches that no longer resembled the landscape he remembered.

They fell into a daze, dropping their weapons and falling into a deep, terrible depression. Some of the soldiers began to sob, some of them wailing their lungs off. Some of them even picked up their guns, shooting themselves in the head. Wilbur wove through the crowd, all the people around him turning impossibly hopeless and ending their lives in various ways. The agony they felt was so unbearable that death seemed to be their only release. Such was the power of the Emperor's domain: Dirge of Despair. Within mere seconds, the Scorpion Army had lost half their men. The remaining soldiers fell into a hopeless frenzy as well, flailing around like they had lost their minds.

Purifying the last remnants of the blight. The mountain shook one final time, a low rumble, and then stilled. Silence spread slowly across the valley. There was no corruption. No network pulsing in our brains. No shadows screaming. The war was over. Around us, the surviving wolves began slowly realizing the same thing. Some collapsed from pure exhaustion into the dirt. Others stared numbly at the dust cloud rising from the ruins. A few quietly wept. It wasn't a celebration of victory; it was the raw, heavy relief of survival.

He knew that Andrew was someone he could not face head-on, and even Marshall would be no match for him. As death claimed him, Jeroff understood everything. He desperately wanted to warn Marshall to run for his life, but there was nothing he could do. Andrew swung Godslayer, and several dull sounds rang out. The remaining four Ludendorff family soldiers were all killed. Andrew's face remained expressionless. He severed each head one by one, then stacked them together. Jeroff's head was placed on top, forming a small pyramid. After finishing this, Andrew's figure disappeared once more.

She held her head that remembered everything. “It was the last time I killed countless people within a day. Man and woman, young and old people alike. Within a night, thousands of people died, and the Quislings were almost exterminated. The whole Aparctias and Thrascias Empire were in total chaos. Especially the main city.” She explained as her grip on her wine glass tightened.

"Twenty years is a long time. Use it to be better." "I'll try." Leanora meets her eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you won. Glad Elena's dead. Glad the Council's gone. You were right. I was wrong." Jamie leaves without responding. Some apologies can't be accepted. Just acknowledged. That evening, she attends the memorial dedication. A permanent monument to everyone lost in the war. One hundred seven names carved in stone. Including the sixty from the Asian facility. Families gather. Wolves and vampires and witches and humans. All mourning together.

We don't risk running because we know we're close, and we need to be on guard. We finally leave the forest behind and hit the outer edge of Denver. The majority of the city is demolished, but there's a clear path that's been used, and we follow it. Broken glass from the destroyed buildings catches the fading light and sparkles, making the quiet city appear even more abnormal with the glittering light. It's still hard to comprehend the destruction that brought us to this point. Over two million people died in Denver at the beginning of the hellhound war. The smell of death is long gone but here and there, I catch sight of skeletal remains. When millions die, and others are fighting for their