Novel & Cerita Dying Earth Genre

Ang notebook na naglalaman ng lahat ng list niya at mga kwentong nangyari sa kan'ya. Binuksan kong muli ang notebook na binigay n'ya at muling binasa ang mga laman nito. "DIARY OF THE DYING" Living My Final Days with a Grateful Heart Muli akong napaluha ng mabasa ang unang pahina nito. Bakit sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo, s'ya pa ang dinapuan ng sakit na 'yon at kung bakit s'ya agad ang kinuha. Ang daming masasamang nilalang na hindi na nararapat pang mabuhay pero bakit kung sino pa ang maraming pangarap at dapat pagkalooban nito ay sila pa ang pinagkaitan.

"That's not enough time. Mia's power isn't back, it only flickered and now its dormant. We're not ready." "Then you'll have to be unready." Dracula pulled up a new image, showing the path to the core. "The system is collapsing from the outside in. The outer worlds are failing first. But the core is stable. Protected. If you're going to act, you need to move before the path itself disappears." "What about the other deadies?" I asked. "The ones in worlds that are about to collapse. Can we warn them? Help them evacuate?" "Evacuate to where?" Dracula asked. "Every world is failing. Some faster than others, but all of them are doomed. There is no safe harbor. The only escape is reincarnation, and

She gave me a tired look. “ That is why we are craving for a home. I use to think we're existing because we are here to live and die later. But I realized, living while dying is possible. No one seems to understand us the way we understand ourselves. It's crazy to think we can give comforts to others we wish we could give to ourselves.”

"Not the same kind you have. You have movies and dramas. We don't have that much entertainment where I came from," For a moment, the alien looked a little sad. "The entertainment here is crap. Nothing to be envious about," I told him. "Nothing entertaining ever happens where I came from, so while I'm here and they haven't found me yet, I am going to enjoy the hell out of your planet, Earthling." his eyes lit up and he looked like a little kid looking forward for an adventure. Wait, who is "they" and why are "they" looking for Cy?

“In fact, this Earth-devouring Tree of Netherworld is not a tree, but a monster from the Undying Clan. Rumor has it that it has inseparable ties with the king of the Undying Clan! This kind of strange tree can devour normal continents and then convert them into Netherearth. Netherearth is a suitable environment for the survival of the Undying Clan.” Alex asked, “Does this mean the Undying Clan can’t survive in our world well?” “That’s right. The Undying Clan requires a kind of deadly Chi for survival. The Undying Clan will be more powerful in places with more deadly Chi, but those places with abundant spiritual energy of heaven and earth will harm their bodies. On the contrary, deadly Chi wi

He take out an ancient black scroll while the two around him started chanting unknown words. Spell? I know how this world is full of fantasy and magic but seeing this first hand, I can't help but feel astonished. The scroll starts emitting different pale colors. Soon after, letters coming from it surrounded the room before forming a group of words into a sentence. "In the darkness there's light, the Underworld has come to life. Human bows to death, Souls were tied by a thread. Fated to live together, their love was sacred forever. Gazes by the amethyst eyes,

The knockers at her door were there by the thousands, dribbling over one another, clambering for fresh bones to suck the marrow from. A generation of the dead looking for somewhere to die. Emily ran at them, bat— (machete) —raised. Her grunts were muffled by flying scalps, dried dust blood clouds. Her daughter’s present snapped jaws from necks, sent eyeballs flying into the sky in nightmarish home runs. Emily swung, over and over again, granting them all the relief they so desperately wanted, until she was doused red from head to toe. Her own private genocide.

He grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down against the pillow, forcing his mouth against mine, prying me open, taking what he claimed was his. He watched me—watched the tears fall from my eyes, watched my body tremble under his weight. With callused fingertips, he wiped a tear from my cheek. The gentleness of the gesture only made my shaking worse. Then he laughed. "What are you shaking for? Were you just as filthy in his bed? But it doesn't matter. Dead or alive, you're mine. You want to break up with me? Over my dead body!" he sneered. He was mad—completely, terrifyingly mad.

Through my treatments and hospital stays and the times I pushed you away because I was scared of exactly this moment, of leaving you behind. The hardest part of dying isn't the dying itself. It's the leaving. Leaving May, who sacrificed everything for me. Leaving Midnight, who somehow always knew when my lungs were bad and would purr against my chest like he was helping me breathe. And leaving you, my beautiful, brilliant, stubborn Shade, who never saw yourself the way I saw you. So let me tell you what I see: I see a boy who taught himself engineering from library books because his father never bothered to show him how things work.