Fantasy Post Apocalypse Novels & Stories

That was the ringtone for my alarm. I hurriedly grabbed my phone with shaky hands as I glanced at the date and I audibly gasped in shock. The date was staring right at me, unblinking and I had to rub my eyes to be sure I wasn't hallucinating. It was indeed June 19th, 2665. The apocalypse happened July 19th. One month from today. I refused to believe that this was real. There was no way that I woke up one month before the city of Sloradath was reduced to ruins. But I knew everything that happened was too real to be a dream.

She had begun to turn into them. “No, no, I can't be one of them. No, I don't want to.” She cried, thinking back to before this apocalypse began. Back to when things were okay. Her family was still alive. Except they had died years back before the apocalypse even began. She was just a lonely girl, who met Ryan and fell in love. Barely conscious and close to turning, Ara dragged herself toward the toxic river near the edge of the city. The black water churned violently below, filled with chemical waste, rotting corpses, blood, and dangerous liquids dumped there after the apocalypse began.

A fresh, deafening chorus of monstrous shrieks joined the screams of the dying town, creating a cacophony of the damned that vibrated in the bedrock of the earth itself. This was the end. There was no coming back from the threshold I had just been dragged across. The world was ending, and I was bleeding out at its horrific epicenter. My eyelids grew heavy. The frantic flutter of my pulse against the encroaching darkness beat one final time in my throat... twice... then stilled entirely. The searing pain, the suffocating fear, the apocalyptic chaos—all of it receded into the distance, falling away into a vast nothingness.

As much as his mom tried to teach him, Meph gets into all kinds of trouble because he doesn’t know when to back off. Run when the hair on your arm stand up. That’s one of the many survival lessons she taught Meph. But she is no longer in the picture. She left him alone in this merciless, post apocalypse world. At least he won’t suffer the trembling fear when death knocks. Standing calmly in front of the door, Meph waits, an arm’s length away from the malicious voice. Rule number one of the Soul Trial: Everything can be a trial. A question. A conversation. Anything. And just like any trial, there is reward in passing, and punishment in failing.

They were the apex predators of the new world: faster, stronger, and possessed of a commanding presence that could make a regular human’s heart stop just by standing in the same room. Yet, unlike the myths of old, the Orcs and Humans didn't turn on each other. Bound by the shared trauma of the "Gray" hordes, they became the ultimate allies. Humans provided the technical ingenuity, the scavenging precision, and the intricate medical knowledge of the old world, while the Beastkin provided the raw power, sensory heightening, and the sheer security needed to navigate the ruins. Together, they built the Citadels' fortified bastions of steel and hope. They joined hands to thwart the final conspira

So typical of the emprote fantasy world and obvious bad imagination of the book author. Vera’s situation was different. She entered the space pregnant, sane, and without powers of her own, and because of that, the land reacted to her body in a way the galaxy would never understand. Honestly, her written character did not understand it either. Vera in the book had been obsessed with her three males, and feeling better on that planet had been useless to her because her comfort was tied to the three men who had just disposed of her. But to the Vera who existed now, the one who had survived the apocalypse and knew the book, everything felt different. Who needed those men when this land was a doc

Michael's back straitened. "...your mind will be destroyed. Miss Calvin will be placed in eternal servitude in one of the dungeon dreamscapes. Your mother and the girl Lucy will be killed since they have been affected by your power." Michael clenched his fist and lashed out with his will. The man stopped speaking as his throne was tossed backwards by a massive blow.

She screamed into Jade’s pussy, the sound muffled and raw. Jade came seconds later, grinding through her own orgasm. Victor followed with a guttural curse, pulling out to come across Lila’s stomach and breasts in thick, pulsing ropes. They collapsed together—Jade curling against Lila’s side, Victor spooning behind, both of them stroking her sweat-slick skin, whispering soft praise. Aftercare came gently: warm cloths, sips of water, the cuffs removed, tender kisses pressed to wrists and ankles.

Then… herself. “You think you wear it, little wolf,” the reflection said. “But it wears you.” She blinked — and the vision was gone. “Don’t start with ghosts tonight,” she whispered, voice steady but breaking inside. “I made enough of my own.” Downstairs — The War Table Cassian briefed Luca and Dante on the fallout. Governments were collapsing. Economies frozen. The Veil’s survivors were either in hiding or surrendering. Yet a new movement was rising — a cult calling themselves The Children of Bloodlight.

Old systems collapsed, and while some groups tried to patch things back together, the currents of this new era were way too big for them to steer. New bases or camps rose everywhere. A camp-based civilization was becoming the norm. Anyone trying to bring back the old pre-apocalypse order was just stuck in the past. So nobody should expect the apocalypse to end. That would be a pipe dream. Things would only go back to normal when the virus was totally gone, if that was even possible. The future would be built around bases, and glory would only revolve around camps. Hayley knew they were just small fries back at Base K1, the kind the base wouldn't bother sending rescue teams for. They weren't