Doomed To Be Cannon Fodder Novels & Stories

Every instinct honed by months of brutal guerrilla warfare screams that we are entirely defenseless against a navy of this caliber. We have no shields left, our magic is completely depleted, and our frontline fighters are bleeding from a dozen wounds. The cruel irony of surviving Dawn Mercer's initial onslaught only to be annihilated by a second, unknown armada weighs heavily on my chest, threatening to suffocate me before the first hostile broadside can even touch our shores.

The destiny of our pack remained shrouded in the haze of war, obscured by the fog of uncertainty. As the battle raged on, a desperate realization crept into my mind. Our strength waned, our numbers dwindled, and the once formidable Athens pack found itself on the precipice of defeat. The weight of that possibility settled heavily upon me, threatening to crush my spirit. The image of my pack being defeated, of myself being captured and held captive, flashed vividly in my mind like a chilling omen.

Gently, Cannon then patted the top of Rae's head and said, “I know. I just feel that you are quite stinky.” "What do you mean?" Rae said annoyed while narrowing her eyes. “Well, you were unconscious for three days, baby,” Cannon said, “I guess those Warriors hit your point of consciousness too hard,” “…” "But you take it easy. I've taken care of them all,” said Cannon while showing a movement as if slicing his own throat. Rae sighed and said, “You killed them?” "No," said Cannon, "death is too easy for them." Cannon's next words made Rae speechless. It seemed this Alpha was completely obsessed with her — Rae thought.

“You’re fighting for a world that has already passed you by! You're just a ghost howling at a moon that doesn't recognize you anymore!” ​The fight was a desperate, losing game of numbers. For every Feral that Killian disemboweled or I incinerated, three more seemed to emerge from the black throat of the forest below. Our small "Exodus" pack was being pushed further and further back into the shadows of the Spire, our strength flagging as the physical toll of the slaughter mounted. The silver fire was waning, and the cold was beginning to seep back into our bones.

“What a disappointment.” The two women helped each other up. Halle wiped the blood from her mouth and said indifferently, “Is that so? You’re done for.” Arthur frowned and looked behind at Andrius. Then, he saw a terrifying giant cannon aimed directly at him. The Doom Cannon had fully formed! It was a dazzling giant cannon that would bring disaster and destruction. Its huge caliber and dazzling light made Arthur freeze in place instantly. Although he had full confidence in his strength now, he could not afford to be careless when faced with such a weapon of mass destruction.

I yelled my heart out to the heartless soldier. " Terry! Calm down! Or you're going to tip the boat!" Manor pleaded to me. " I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Ok? It's just that Misaki created them to be cannon fodder. I know no one wants to die but it's inevitable!" The soldier apologized but in a demeaning way. " Inevitable? Inevitable!" I screamed. " Troublemaker! Quit causing trouble!"

"We were this close to completely taking over the Marcones. We just finished wiping out their entire frontline in Vegas, and now—now our Don is fucking dying! A lone sniper got to our leader, all because of this bitch!" My lungs still burned, each shallow breath I managed to draw feeling like sandpaper against my raw throat. I tried to pull myself up, but my limbs felt like lead. They were talking about things I didn’t understand, but what was clear was my name being dragged into the center of their “war.”

Huo Yan said. "Cannon fodder," Zhan said. "Jealous. Arrogant. Talentless. Existed in the first fifty chapters to be humiliated by the male lead and discarded. His exit was spilling champagne on you at a gala and getting his career blacklisted permanently." He paused. "I had literally just finished reading that scene when the truck hit." Huo Yan was very still. "A truck," he said.

“Fire the heavy cannons!” The cannons rusted ironwork we’d scrounged roared with a sound that made the ribs under my sternum ache. An iron ball smashed into robed bodies, tore them flat against the earth. For a beating second the air filled with torn cloth and the hot scent of burnt hair. A cheer rose from the lines, animal, raw. It sounded like triumph until they cried out.

Pack my burner, my badge, my Glock. If this is going to implode, I want to be front row. Because the whole thing’s cracking. And I just set the first match.