Death Parade Novelas e Histórias

He stroked my hand with his thumb. “The bringers of death?” I suggested. “The Delazar’s thrive on war. Their leader loves chaos and power. Delazar believes the weak should be killed.” He paused, with a grim look on his face, and I thought back to what Sam said about his brother, then he continued, “Reaper is the name he gave our clan because we are the bringers of death.” “Have you… brought death to anyone?” I wanted his answer to be no but a part of me wondered and I had to know.

The group stood frozen, staring at the campus gates only a few hundred meters away. Hope shimmered just beyond the iron bars, where the faint outline of the army encampment could be seen in the distance. Safety was so close they could almost taste it, but a horde of zombies clogged the path, their grotesque forms swaying in a macabre dance of hunger and decay. “There’s too many,” Mira whispered, gripping Sarah’s hand tightly. Her voice was barely audible, but it carried the weight of their despair.

Mainly claws after a partial transformation were used, or throats being torn out by the sharp teeth of a fully transformed werewolf. They were butchering the fallen females because they were more than likely never going to be useful to them. Even if they were to survive the loss of their mate, then they were never going to recover or be the same again. Losing our counterparts was paralising, most of us that did survive were unable to function on even just a basic level after. They would never be of any use to Corbin, which is most likely why his soldiers were ordered to end their lives. Killing them now was probably doing them a merciless kindness though, sparing them from the worst possible

Two years after the freeze, Maya Chen stood at the edge of what they now called Hope's Garden—a memorial to every person who'd died in the apocalypse and its aftermath. The garden held 47 stones. Each carved with a name. Hope. Harold. Thomas Miller. Sarah Cho. Marcus Reed. The six others from the war with Grant. The three refugees left behind. The seven rejected at capacity. The infant who'd died despite everything. And 26 more. People who'd died in the two years since—accidents, illness, age, the unpredictable violence of the new world.

I couldn't wait for all this to be over. The date had gone well. We had kissed and she made me promise to come see her again. Things were finally as they used to be. “We're here,” Barlas announced, his feet shuffling to a stop. I felt the chill run down my spine. The Valley of the Dead. What the hell were we doing here? From this sunken ground, one could see the pack house perched atop what looked like a huge cliff. No wolf dared come here. Ever. It reeked of death and held the record of the most deaths in one place in all of Lupestone.

The camp woke slowly the next morning, the survivors moving like ghosts through the gray dawn. Elif walked among the wounded, offering what comfort she could, her hands stained with blood that was not her own. She had lost too many. The numbers echoed in her head like a death knell: seven hundred had marched south, and now barely three hundred remained capable of fighting. The rest were dead or dying, scattered across the mountain pass where Liesel's creatures had torn through them.

"It was our favoritism toward her that nurtured her greed and ambition. We enabled her. That's why she dared to do all this to you." "Jocelyn… are you scared down there? Mom and Dad will come to you soon, okay? From now on, we'll take good care of you… protect you…" Then, without hesitation, they pulled out surgical knives and stabbed themselves. Even I, drifting in the air, was startled. I hadn't expected such a decisive ending. Soon after, their bodies were discovered by patrolling nurses. Joel did not honor their will to be buried with me. Instead, he cremated them and scattered their ashes into the sea.

The Last Man Standing. Michael was sitting on the van looking at those zombies how they're in pain, and how they're craving for human flesh to devour. At that moment Michael felt like the world was slowly disappearing infront of him, or maybe it was just him who is fading away. The black hole in his head deep inside his soul slowy swallowing all his hopes and dreams. That was the worst moment.

Based on the colour of the envelope I knew the mission was about capturing lost souls. "It says there, the name of who you need to reap as soon as possible. It's a special soul so I gave it to you." I just nodded before sitting on the sofa not far away. From there, I read the contents of the brown envelope. Name: Mary Sean Ivanovich Cause of Death: Suicide Punishment: REAP

The explosion that followed silenced the cries. From the darkness, illuminated by the fire engulfing the train, the figure that had been waiting by the roadside approached the wreckage. He stopped before it and pulled the hood from his face. His face was a horrid affair, a decaying patch with worms crawling out of it. He raised his hand towards the train and the train shivered violently, even as it was still burning. Wraiths of bodies, translucent and glimmering a ghoulish blue, rose from the wreckage. The faces on these wraiths were confused and they seemed to be drawn to the being rather than moving towards the figure by the roadside. On sighting him, they started screaming, high-pitched,