Doom Breaker Novels & Stories

Not that I don't believe in love, but was it really possible for your heart to beat to someone without Weaver's intervention? "Are you done?" I asked Doom as he ran toward me. "Woah!" he exclaimed. He was wearing a broad smile on his face and twinkling eyes, "I just saw a dragon's nest. A baby Bakunawa hatched before my very eyes," "Of course, what do you expect in this base?" I replied, rolling my eyes.

It suddenly felt like my chest was full of fluid and I was gasping for air. Why did I feel so strongly about Adam right now? A man that had bullied me in high school. A few weeks ago, I was hoping that he had died on the ice, and now I was here begging for his life to be saved. I pushed myself off the wall because I desperately needed to move but my legs felt strangely weak beneath me. “Eli.” I raised my head to see Doctor Broome watching me. “Are you okay?” I inhaled deeply and stuttered a response. “Yes, I am.”

Videl.. The crossing felt like driving into the mouth of a storm that refused to break. The amphibious Breakers—low-profile, heavy-armored vessels designed for stealth—cut through the black water of the channel with a predatory hum. Inside the lead vehicle, the air was pressurized and silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of Oliver’s keyboard. For thirteen years, this stretch of ocean had been a graveyard. The energy field used to scramble navigation systems and shut down engines, leaving anyone who tried to cross to drown in the dark.

"Because if I lose, you lose. The Council keeps you in a machine. If I destroy the Council, I destroy your prison. You'll finally be free." Silence. Then, softer: You're serious. "I'm always serious." --- That night, I prepared for the trial. Not with blades—with meditation. I sat in the center of our camp, eyes closed, breathing. The Shepherd's voice was quiet. The Breaker relies on strength. He doesn't think. He doesn't plan. He just attacks. How do I beat him? You can't. Not with strength. You have to outthink him. Tire him out. Make him angry. He makes mistakes when he's angry.

" Goddamnnit! Why must I face that son of a bitch jerk? Huh? " " Goddamnnit! Why must I face that fool? Huh?" she growled.

The silence in the deep-level command center wasn't the sound of peace; it was the sound of a countdown ticking inside the tectonic plates. Above us, the GBCA’s orbital monitors were no longer tracking targets. They were calculating seismic yield. The "Iron Rain" kinetic rods had been replaced by something far more final: the Crust-Breaker. A high-velocity tungsten-carbide warhead designed to burrow three miles into the bedrock and detonate a localized magma-trigger, turning the entire valley—and the Rebirth City fortress—into a bubbling, radioactive lake of molten slag.

Liam tried to rush to my side. But a deafening roar echoed from the depths of the swamp. A colossal beast, supercharged with curse energy, burst from the black fog. It was three times larger than the guardian, covered in rotting scales, its eyes burning with malevolent green fire. "Everyone, get back!" I forced myself to stand, fighting through the pain. But the beast's target was clear. It was coming straight for me. A weakened Liam tried to block its path but was thrown aside by a blast of power, slamming into a dead tree.

"You don't mean that." "I do," he insists, but he won't meet my eyes when he says it. "We got caught up in something that was never going to work. Now it's over." "Just like that?" I ask, tears starting to blur my vision. "Two months together, and you can just turn it off like a switch?" "It's better this way," he says, finally looking at me. But his eyes are cold, distant, like he's looking at a stranger. "A Clean break, no more complications."

But he forgot about Amber's bleeding heart. She invited those people inside for a meal. When the group saw our lavish home decor, the hatred on their faces intensified. While she still felt proud of her charitable actions, some of them had already started moving. The first casualty was Dad's beloved porcelain vase in the living room. In the apocalypse, decorative pieces were worthless, but watching it shatter still made his face darken visibly. Three people couldn't hold back a mob. Before long, everything inside and outside our house had been smashed to pieces.

"Roughly, Dax. Give me a number." Dax cleared his throat. He started counting on his fingers, which is something he only does when he’s annoyed. "Half the pack. At least. Every warrior who gets a scrape or a fever goes to her now. They prefer her over the old medicine man. Pack morale in the eastern quarters has improved measurably since she arrived. The men feel better knowing they won't just be patched up, but actually cured." "And Bren?" I asked. "How is his leg?" "He is walking without a limp," Dax admitted. "He shouldn't be. That break was bad. By all rights, he should have been retired to the scout units, but he’s back in heavy rotation. He says she worked on him for three nights strai