Gate Warrior Novels & Stories

“Only Durga—or her Tiger—may access them.” Kaplan glanced at Tharion, his pulse quickening, unsure if it was safe to pass through the wards. Tharion gave a brief, steadying nod, silently urging him forward. Taking a few cautious steps, Kaplan reached a tentative hand through the shimmering barrier. The light rippled and molded around him, probing, testing, as if assessing whether he was truly worthy of the weapons. The tingling energy of the wards raced across his skin, sharp and alive. He wrapped his fingers around the bow and arrow, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. One by one, he drew the other weapons through the wards, each moving smoothly into his grasp, until th

She replied curtly. Naming of the Alliance divisions was fairly straightforward. The two magic sectors were divided into the elemental mages in the Day Gate and dark magic mages in the Night Gate. Hunters, who could wield magic weapons belonged to the Twilight Gate and Healers and Medics occupied the Dawn Gate. Other than determining that the Witch was a dark magic user, her answer held minor significance to Allen.

Something heavy. A massive robot stepped out. It was twelve feet tall. It was painted black. It had Gatling guns for arms. "Meet the Reaper Prime," Garrett said. "Automated defense system. Enjoy." He ran toward a side exit. "Kill them," Garrett ordered the robot. The robot’s eyes glowed red. The guns spun up. Whirrrrrr. "Cover!" Kael screamed. We dove behind the missile cart just as the room erupted in a hail of bullets.

He shrugged. “We wait for it to work.” He looked at me with narrowed eyes and then focused on the warrior behind me. “You. What’s your name?” The warrior stepped forward and stood at attention. “Orm, sir. I’m First Battalion under General Sult.” Garth waved his credentials away. “If this works, I’m going to need your help with the Queen.” He looked sideways at me. “Sire, I need you to let us do this. It’s going to look bad but we’re helping her, not hurting her.”

Warren of Bane pack nervously began to pace once again, running his hands through his waves of hair. " What is all the commotion?" A warm breeze suddenly washed over Makaria and the other skin, goose bumps pebbling their skin at the voice of such authority. Their goddess appeared suddenly along with her animal companions, all in their ferocious, saliva dripping glory. She was a sight to be hold in her moonlight cream tunic with her dangling weapons tied like a sash around her waist. " We are watching a tragedy of Warren and Pomelia take place my goddess," Callisto chuckled as the few other around Makaria began to slip away, making way for thier goddess.

Guard 2 "Look, man, you should go to the doctor to see if you are alright" Guard 1 "Did you just say that I am mentally ill, you are mentally ill you fucker" Guard 2 "What did you just call me? It's your father who is mentally ill for giving birth to you" Guard 1 "YOOUUU...YOUR MOM GAY" Guard 2 "DONT TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER, YOU NO WHAT YOUR MOM GAY" Like this they started to argue and insult each other but little did they know Gengar had one more surprise waiting for them when they were arguing they heard a small girl say something to her mother

I never stopped running until I reached the road; no more strength was left in me. ********** Over time, werewolves adapt to the new world to survive. Most of them are businessmen, heads of their triad, and politicians. We live in a world where werewolves exist and live amongst humans. Hiding in their own empire. Presently, I am a ghost—a trained killer. Father would always say that I am his legacy. I was dubbed as the next Romano Starvo. Sharpshooter and the top assassin in Spain. A ruthless killer. I kill with no mercy. I can turn all things into weapons and kill everyone with my bare hands. They called me Shadow.

I vaulted down the stairs right behind him, swinging my leg over the Sovereign. "You aren't going out there alone," I told him, kicking the engine to life. The deep, flawless Origin-Code combustion purred beneath me. "Wouldn't dream of it, Ghost," Dax said, pulling his bandana up over his nose. The massive hydraulic gears of Coldwater’s main gates groaned. Dust and rust fell from the hinges as the sixty-foot durasteel doors slowly parted, revealing the sprawling, chaotic army waiting outside. The roar of the crowd died down instantly. Thousands of eyes locked onto the gates.

Goma Island. It loomed out of the mist, a jagged silhouette of black rock and ancient forest. As we drew closer, the massive Southern Gate became visible. It was a marvel of engineering—a towering wall of reinforced composite alloy that had stood shut for nearly a decade. Seeing it now, with its two halves parted like a giant's wound, felt wrong. It felt like a trap waiting to be sprung. "All units, stay sharp," I said into my comms, my voice steady despite the roar of blood in my ears. "We don't know who or what opened that gate. Do not engage unless fired upon, but keep your fingers on the triggers."