Extermination Game Mga Nobela at Kwento

He says “You have all made it through the second sub-level of the Lunar Games, except one.” His words were hollow. Another girl was missing. One more life is claimed by this absurd game. Two girls were dead. Their absence was just a reminder of how close we all were to death. "You’ll have time to rest before the next phase," Darius continued, his tone indifferent. "But don’t get too comfortable. The games are far from over." I didn’t need his reminder. The burning in my skin, the ache in my muscles, the emptiness in my chest, the memory of the dead girls—all of it was enough to keep me painfully aware of just how far from safety we were.

The room feels like it's closing in on me, the walls pressing down until I can't tell where they end, and I begin. He lunges at her, and instinct takes over. My finger squeezes the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot is deafening, drowning out everything else. My father's body jerks, then crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap. The knife falls from his hand, clattering to the floor. Silence follows, thick and suffocating. My hand is still wrapped around the gun, fingers numb, but I can't let go. My knees give out, and I collapse, the world spinning until everything goes black.

Stephen said, noticing Bryan's emotions and he nodded, bending over to carry the sack with him. “The cameras?” Stephen suddenly asked on getting to the main door. “They haven't been functioning for a week now” Bryan said and Stephen muttered a simple reply before they finally opened the door. “Peep out.” Bryan whispered and Stephen nodded, looking around to see if anyone was around. “It's safe” Stephen replied and immediately, they carried Alessia's corpse, moving out of the house without hesitation… There wasn't an extra time for the opening of the booth so they dropped her in the backseat, closing the car door immediately.

Mainly claws after a partial transformation were used, or throats being torn out by the sharp teeth of a fully transformed werewolf. They were butchering the fallen females because they were more than likely never going to be useful to them. Even if they were to survive the loss of their mate, then they were never going to recover or be the same again. Losing our counterparts was paralising, most of us that did survive were unable to function on even just a basic level after. They would never be of any use to Corbin, which is most likely why his soldiers were ordered to end their lives. Killing them now was probably doing them a merciless kindness though, sparing them from the worst possible

I frowned. The viewers behind the comments sounded no different from sadistic killers. When no one else spoke, the system's voice returned. "Please select the next participant to enter the game before the timer ends. If no one enters, the game will be deemed a failure, and I will punish the remaining players." We exchanged glances and all saw the fear reflected in each other's eyes. The system continued, "Current death count totals 21. The remaining 195 merit points will be evenly distributed among 15 survivors."

"If I recall correctly, there are five rules in Godfather High. Rule one, no killing in safe zones and during safe time periods. Rule two, the microchip in our necks allow us to redeem certain benefits using credits earned in the game. It also kills us if we die. Rule three, No harming the creepy invigilators. Rule four, if you escape, you die. Lastly, the shitty game of death ends only when one survivor is left or if all the dungeon floors are cleared. I definitely lucked out this round." Carefully, Zen looked over to his health bar. It was blinking, indicating that it was dangerously low. As he was now, Zen couldn't even take a punch or he would die for real. He checked the time and system

“Do you know what the game is?” I frowned and shook my head. “Let’s call it . . . Terror of Survival. In that game, we needed to kill each other to survive and get the reward. So, they ruthlessly murdered each other in front of my eyes while I couldn’t do anything because I was doubting the bastards about the reward they were saying. Who knows if that reward was a deathless death? He shook his head.

Jaylen raised his eyebrows, “You know I would never beg for my life, you know very well if Kylie wasn't here then I would have shot at the bomb so we would both go to hell.” “That's why she is here, to make it difficult,” Rex clicked his tongue, “So what do we do now before the bomb goes off? How about a game?” “There should be a winner for the game,” Jaylen suggested. What was he up to? “Yes there should be, so I have hidden something of mine, I will give the both of you ten minutes to look for it, whoever finds it goes free and whoever doesn't dies but if no one finds it, we all die, deal or no deal?” Rex asked. Amusement was written all over his face. Like why was he fucking excited to ki

Then, the speakers above us buzzed with static. "Welcome, players, to The Judgment Chamber. There will be five rounds in this game. One player will be eliminated each round. The final surviving player will be the winner. "The rules are simple. Each player will state the crime they committed, no matter how big or small. But remember, do not lie. After all six of you speak, you will vote. The one with the most votes will be eliminated. "The game starts now." As the voice faded, a ten-minute countdown appeared on the wall.

A large number of people staring up at him with the kind of silence that comes right before something terrible. "The game is called Takeout," he mentioned. "The rules are simple. You have ten minutes to kill as many players as possible. For every player you eliminate, you receive five of their lives to carry into future rounds." He tilted his head slightly. "Protect yourself or don't….That is entirely up to you." Nobody moved. "Guards." The doors above the platform opened. Crates dropped from the ceiling on thick cables and hit the floor with a sound like cannon fire, splitting open on impact. Guns, knives, batons, and rope spilled out across the black tile in every direction.