Deathless Death Novels & Stories

An untraceable phantom known only as Ghost. Every target assigned to Ghost had ended up dead with a single, surgical puncture to the heart. No alarms tripped. No forensic evidence left behind. A true myth. Five years ago, the underworld partner I had been trading logistics networks with was murdered overnight, and rumors whispered that Ghost had been the weapon. Then, the assassin vanished completely from the grid, leaving the name to gather dust in the archives of the syndicate wars. I opened my eyes, my gaze shifting to the rear-view mirror.

From Drugs to Brothels. Killing people was nothing but a game for him. He showed no mercy, nothing to the people who dared to raise their heads in front of him. His games were always dangerous and stained with Blood. Velenoso was the second name of Death. The Poisonous death. Sabrina couldn't believe her sister was married to such a man. Bella shook her head, tears strolled down her cheeks. "No, I heard him talking to someone over the phone…" she whispered and told Sabrina everything she heard.

He gestured to the four masked men who aimed their pistol at Massimo. "Mass....Vincent is in!" Hyacinth muttered. "Don't worry, he can't do a thing" he assured. "Then why is he here?" She asked. "The deal ends today because Godmother is dead!" Alejandro winked and Massimo gasped. "What! How?" He asked curiously. "I freaking killed, she's taking a whole lot of time.." he paused and faced somewhere else. "Who still stays alive at 85!!!" He grinned evily as he faced Massimo.

The blame rests entirely upon my actions. His arms tightened around me. Against my hair he murmured the words, "No, it’s not." My attempts to halt the progression proved futile. The sensation of it taking place reached my awareness. That spiraling sensation. The oppressive burden suffocates and compresses. The event extended beyond her mere passing. This event marked his demise as well. The memories returned with relentless force, sweeping through my consciousness as an unyielding tidal surge. An additional firearm discharge occurred. Another friend gone. A lifeless body rests at my feet.

“Without you, every day is unbearable. “Cece, I’m sorry for hurting you. But I loved you. I still do. “I once prayed to God, begging Him to let you live. And if you didn’t, I asked Him to take me with you. He heard my prayer.” I could no longer speak. Tears streamed down my face. Love made people foolish. It could make someone lose their sense of self. Maybe this was the best ending for us. I reached out and held his hand after stealing one last glance at him. The rhythmic beeping echoed through the room. Then, it stretched into one long, unbroken sound. As it did, we both closed our eyes. I felt weightless. I felt as if I was floating. When I saw Lily bawling as she held me, I knew I was al

Wotan Rides the Wind Sanctuary of autumn, a cairn of stones. Death is not proud, Death goes as a beggar dirty for alms outside the county parish, you pass by the sorrel-haired youth, and his laconic eye bespeaks a hunger, a timeless cave of wonders. Death is not mighty, Death is a humble widower who sits weeping by a lighthouse window, polishing brass for the seagulls, ash more bread than fireplace, eating the leftover cheese that has hardened and become dogfood.

If it ever did, he would dismiss it as a mere gossip. Marcus continued staring through the windows as the greenery rushed past them, while he turned back inwardly to something that was troubling his soul. His mind told him he had made a mistake. His ego told him that what he did was right. It was not every day that one got to deal with a witch, even if it was a little boy. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he had not nearly choked because the boy, Jason was looking at him. Dean had died soon after. Problem was he didn’t know how powerful the boy was.

Her voice was quiet through the rain and eyebrows furrowed so deeply that they created a dent between the two. "Reniella De Vega and Deshawn Cervantes. Don't worry, I'm just checking in," Death replied. From the time written on his watch, it was New Year's Eve that Deshawn Cervantes was supposed to die. Deshawn, though soaked from the rain, looked very much alive. "We're fine," Reniella cut in sharply. Death nodded his head slowly and the gold sheen of life that exuviated from Deshawn was clear even through the darkness. It was a bright aura that stuck to his body and stretched out before melting against Reniella's ambiance.

The sky was red with toxic mist, and the ground pulsed like living flesh. "The second is The Whispering Void. A psychological world. It attacks your mind directly, bypassing physical defenses entirely. It shows you your fears, your failures, your worst possible futures, and it makes them feel absolutely real. You'll experience every trauma you've ever suppressed, every nightmare you've tried to forget, every anxiety amplified to unbearable levels. Deadies have been known to go completely, irreversibly insane within minutes of entering. You'll need to cross it in four hours while maintaining your sanity and sense of direction in absolute darkness."

They think the young Mort who will dominate the Underground in the future is the "Perfect One" As a child, Mort has already contributed a lot to the clan, especially in ammo and weaponry. He has also won many battles against the Underground countless times. People considered him a threat and is feared by everyone. He became infamous in the Underground and nicknamed him 'DEATH'. Certain and Quick Death, he never lets his opponents speak before he kills them. He doesn't need to hear any of their pleas or last words. The important thing for him is they die in his hand and won't allow them to cheat death.