Green Reaper Novels & Stories

I faded out of consciousness. - “Father, are you sure we have to sell her? Why can’t we just sell her little bratty sister instead? I quite like her.” I could hear James’ whiny toned voice complain to his father. Sell me? I seriously thought Eric was just hearing things, but I still had given him the benefit of the doubt. I slowly opened my eyes, my vision still super blurry. I stayed silent. “We aren’t selling her yet, we are testing her blood to see if she will make our family pure again. She looks exactly like my great, great uncle’s daughter. I think she’s been reincarnated as Luna Allen.” Jonthan Greenwood said, pacing the floor.

The notion of this green-haired scion seeking to avenge his fallen brother was, admittedly, a tad amusing to me. But then, a voice beside me broke the silence, a gentle reminder that I was not alone in my observations. "The Green Family's bloodline art is one of the exceptional arts," the speaker murmured, "which can boost the growth and acquisition of strength, while also enhancing mana. They are the only ones who have a green aura. You should not take it lightly."

With a determined in hale, I turned and walked into the open, hands raised, and waited for the storm. In a matter of seconds, dozens of boots thundered through the forest, Red dots painting my chest like a strawberry. A circle of rifles closed around me from all angles. I didn't move. A final car pushed through the trees, slower, deliberate, before rolling to a stop right in front of my shattered car. The back door opened. Malcolm Reece stepped out. He looked like he'd dressed for the occasion, perfect black suit, red tie like fresh blood, hair not one strand out of place. The smile he gave me was slow and ugly and victorious.

Deep down I expected rejection, perhaps even contemptuous silence. The reply arrived at dawn two days later, carried by a lone rider dressed in black with no banner or insignia. I tore open the envelope in the dim light of the study, heart hammering against my ribs as I scanned the lines. According to the letter, the Night Reaper had agreed to the alliance but only on one condition. “Your former Luna, Maya, will be given to me as my wife. Only then will the alliance stand.” I read aloud for the tenth time as I sank slowly into the chair behind my desk, the letter crumpling slightly in my tightening fist.

had to see my own flushed face, my tear-streaked cheeks, and his massive body behind me “Look at yourself,” he ordered “Look at the last Crown daughter about to get her womb pumped full of superior seed.” I stared at our reflection trembling Reaper’s eyes met mine in the glass. His lips curled into a savage smile. “Now the real fun starts.” “Fuck… you’re splitting me,” I hissed, “That’s the idea,” Reaper rumbled. His free hand roamed again. His rough fingers traced my back then slid around to cup my breasts. He kneaded them and hit at my nipples until they were swollen and aching.

The players eyes widened in terror, as the three figures emerged from the shadows. Medusa stood tall, her hair writhing like snakes, each strand tipped with venomous fangs. Her eyes glowed like embers, piercing through the darkness. A stone-like mask covered her face, except for her full, crimson lips, curved into a wicked smile. The Reaper loomed beside her, his presence like a shadow cast over the land. His eyes were empty sockets, his skin gray and decaying. A black hood covered his face, and his tattered cloak billowed behind him. His blood streaked soulcutter was held firmly to his chest as though passing a silent warning.

I hear myself say. Reaper closes his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, and when his eyes flutter open, they are the brightest hue of blue I have ever seen, the gray hiding somewhere behind his eyes. "You... are a... Virgin?" he asks his voice unsure. Feeling awkward, I nod. "Shit! Fucking shit!" Reaper cries out sliding out of me and I instantly feel the absence of his warmth above me. "I am sorry, Reaper. Calm down, I didn't think being a virgin will freak you out. I should leave," I say motioning towards the door.

And right in the middle of it all—he waited. Jax. They called him Reaper—because death followed him like a shadow, a silent, inevitable companion. The kind of man who could kill with a glance and leave no trace but silence and a cold void where a life once was. The instant his eyes, obsidian chips of ice, sliced through the noise and landed on me, the world shrank to that frozen moment. My breath caught, a jagged shard in my throat. I knew—without a doubt—that I was standing in the eye of a storm, and I was the fragile thing about to be torn apart.

Let’s talk this out properly. Only for Mira to scream back, "Leave me alone! Unless I get the money today, I’m not moving!" "I’m right, aren’t I, everyone?! "And to those new joining the stream, check the links in the shop below! Don’t miss out!" That’s right. Mira had been livestreaming and selling products every day for the past week. Even if I didn’t pay her so-called emotional damages, she’d already made a fortune. When a reporter asked her to shut the stream down, she slapped the woman across the face. "Stay out of my business! My viewers deserve to see this live. I’m doing this for them!"

The midnight skyline of Port Apex was obscured by a thick fog, turning the massive steel cranes into looming phantoms over the black water. Inside the glass-walled command center of Vance Enterprise, the air was sharp with cold air conditioning. Massive wall monitors glowed with real-time global trade routes, but three major digital corridors stretching from Singapore to Rotterdam had suddenly flashed from deep blue to a stark, ominous crimson. Victoria stood before the central map, a glass of untouched scotch resting in her palm. The amber liquid caught the harsh red glare of the screens. She had discarded her blazer, wearing a sleeveless midnight-black tailored vest over her crisp blouse.