Death Progress Bar Novels & Stories

He gestured to the black veins still faintly visible under the skin of his forearms. "The outline is moving, isn't it?" I asked, reaching out to grab his wrist. He flinched, but I didn't let go. The moment our skin met, the ache in my chest vanished. The "Oxygen Debt" was paid in full. "We are in the tenth life, Julian. The cycle is supposed to end here."

Unobtainable. Hope surged through me so fast it hurt. I didn’t think. I hit d******d. And immediately, the world slowed. The progress bar crawled: 10%… 20%… 30%… 40%… My fingers dug into my arm as I paced. Each second felt like a lifetime. Then 50%. 60%. It paused too long at 70%. My stomach turned. A small window suddenly flashed on the screen. A red hexagon. A white eagle.

This time I would finish him. "Shaurya Agnihotri starts counting your days in reverse manner. I am coming." The room heard my growling and frustration with my utmost hateful statement.

My sons are helping despite their grief over Alistair. Everyone is working past exhaustion. And with one hour remaining, we activate the new death system. Negotiable death with rules, structure, boundaries, negotiation protocols, clear paths for resistance and acceptance. It’s the best we can do in forty-eight hours. “Will Original Death accept this?” I ask Anna. “I don’t know,” she admits. “It’s functional but crude. Original Death might decide it’s insufficient and end everyone anyway.” We wait as the hour expires. Original Death manifests and examines what we’ve built.

1% Pim stared at it, the blood turning to ice in her veins. "What is it?" Chalida asked, her voice tight with sudden dread. Pim didn't answer. She looked at the progress bar, watching as the tiny white sliver began to grow, moving with a predatory, calculated speed. "It’s not dead," Pim whispered, her voice failing her. "It’s not in the server. It was never in the server." "Then where?" Chalida breathed, backing away.

Cel‌este comm‍anded. She watched‌ as the progress bar on the sc‍reen be‍gan to creep forward. *20%...‌ 40%... 60%...​* T​he‍ tension in the room was suffocating. E‌very second felt li⁠ke an hour, every flicker of​ the mon‍itor a h​eartb‌eat. Suddenly, the‍ sc⁠reen‌ wen⁠t b⁠lac​k.

I could tell by his voice that it wasn’t fine. Moving around him slightly, I looked behind him and saw a large gash across his back. Quickly, I looked up at the name above his head and saw his health bar. It hadn’t moved much, but as I looked at it, it slowly moved to the left, indicating his health was dropping, even if only by two health points a second. While it didn’t seem life-threatening at this point, I imagined it hurt. It could also get infected. Regardless if this was a video game or not, the realism in it was intense. Opening the menu to look through our shared storage, I scrolled down to find the potions we collected.

“When you first came to see me, your condition was so rare that I couldn’t predict exactly how it would progress. But after what happened last night… It seems the dormancy is affecting your body more severely than I anticipated.” I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?” Dr. Evelyn gave me a sympathetic look. “Luna Ella, you need to resolve this soon. Either through marking or rejection. Otherwise, you’ll continue to deteriorate. It won’t be like flipping a switch—you won’t just suddenly die one day. It will be a slow, painful process. Increasing weakness. Organ failure. Coma. Then, finally, death.” The clinical description of my impending death sent a chill down my spine. It was one thing to

"Forcing the handshake protocol now! Injecting logic bomb!" On the primary monitor, the progress bar flashed into a blinding, electric red. UPLOAD STATUS: 12%... 34%... 5|%... Above us, the heavy metallic reverberation of a battering ram slamming against the facility's outer security door echoed through the damp concrete corridors.

As one of the country's top high school teachers, I have helped countless students get into the best colleges. But I somehow find myself reborn as a poor kid from the countryside while attending a ceremony honoring my achievements. A mysterious voice echoes in my mind. "If you fail to get into college, you'll die!" How hard can that be? It's just getting into college. That's hardly a challenge for a genius like me. But soon I realize that getting into college isn't really about how smart you are. In the end, it all comes down to people and their motives.