Romans & histoires Grim Reaper Games

And there it was. The slap. The spit in my face. She was taunting me. Mocking me with her new ring, that stupid dress, that smug little smirk like I hadn’t touched every inch of her less than twenty hours ago. She wanted a game? Fine. We’d play. But she forgot one thing, I never lose. Ever. We stared at each other in silence. Not like strangers. Rather like ex-lovers at war. I tried to keep my breathing steady. To remember who she was now. My father’s wife. That should have been enough to make me walk away.

he murmurs. Rolling my eyes I cross my arms leaning back in my chair, “care to share with the class?” He presses his palms together and asks, “son, have you ever heard of the Reapers?” I frown, “No. What is a Reaper?” He leans over, “so when you die, the Reaper is the one who severs your bond from this world that lets you move onto the next. For us back to the Moon Goddess. They are curious beings and only those who have seen traumatic death can see them. I’m sure there is one in our pack right now, waiting for someone to die. They are nearly untraceable and hold no allegiances to anyone but their task. Sever the bond, let the soul move on.”

"Firstly, I want to tell you all that I'm grateful for setting me free. Secondly, I as a grim reaper would go back to my post and continue my job. Thirdly, I don't give a fuck of whatever is happening to god" "Grim Reaper, you are not allowed to cuss in the palace " The second Elder reprimanded. "Whatever " She mouthed and turned to leave but suddenly her body was bound with a chain making her unable to leave. "Grim Reaper Rose, This is your mission you are not allowed to reject it. Accepting it guarantees your freedom." The Third Elder dressed in a blue apparel suddenly spoke. His voice was gentle and could make anyone listen to him but unfortunately the person is Rose Blair.

"What a coincidence. We meet again." I stared at her, and something clicked. The car crash. Their car. My "death." It was all too perfect. "Hey, newbies. Need a rundown?" A guy with a seasoned look walked over. "Name's Marcus. A-class player." "Wait." I held up a hand. "Let me get this straight. Are we dead?" Marcus nodded. "Technically, you're in a near-death state. You only get your life back if you clear the game."

The man had finally managed to produce a child and he wanted me to stand in a hall and applaud. "Small man," I said. "Large occasion." Gary said nothing. That was the correct response. My throne had been built on the bodies of my father and my brothers, taken in the year I turned twenty-four, held through five years of war that hadn't fully ended. I had killed more men than I could name. The packs called me The Reaper and stayed out of my borders and prayed their treaties held. The elders said Moon Godness herself had cursed me, no fated mate, no heir, no future beyond the violence I was good at.

a woman dressed as a nun asked. "That's right. You're dead. Your souls were dragged into this death game." Brad shrugged. "But don't lose hope. If you clear the game, you get to live again." The screaming and shouting stopped. All eyes turned to them, filled with a new sense of hope. "To be resurrected, you need to collect 'Redemption Points.' 9,999 of them, to be exact," Jessica continued. "But here's the catch: the points you get are tied to your fear. The more terrified you are, the fewer points you get."

"Stop talking like it's a game, Ren. My dad is dying." "It is a game," Ren said, standing up. His voice gained strength, echoing off the concrete walls. "It’s a rigged, unfair, pay-to-win game. And we just got wiped. We lost our loot. We lost our gear. We lost our levels." Ren walked over to the Server Blade sitting in Kara's lap. He touched the cold metal casing. "But we didn't lose our skills." He turned to face them. "The Admin thinks they flushed us. They think we're dead bodies floating in the Sump. That is our advantage. You don't kill a hardcore gamer by taking their stuff. You just make them start a new character."

I had to find something I could do to make money that I could be discrete enough to accomplish without drawing the attention of the massive amount of people I managed to successfully piss off by means of killing the under-lord, Christian. That led to my current livelihood of being an assassin. I started out with nothing more than the knife that killed my mother, Christian’s belt and sheath, and my rags cut, sewed, and repurposed into a disguise to hide my hair and face. I was sloppy in the beginning, and it was a wonder I’d never been caught. As the years passed, I became the most efficient, deadly, mysterious, and untraceable assassin. I entered unseen, killed in silence, and vanished witho

Ayira to become a reaper or not I scrunched my mouth and wiggled my cheeks against the hard surface under my face. I blinked my eyes and looked up and my mouth dropped open. I lifted my head and looked down at Grim. God he was beautiful. His black eyelashes were fanned across his high cheekbones. I squinted my eyes. Reapers don't sleep, I remembered. I looked down at his bare chest and swallowed seeing his ink work. Hot damn, he's covered with beautifully done tattoos. I used my index finger to trace one and hear the deep rumble of his laughter building up. I chuckled softly and looked up at his green eyes glowing brightly at me.

"The apocalypse survival game begins now. From this point on, I'll be watching your every move. Everything you do will be visible to me. Everyone must follow the rules of the safe house. "The first rule is that everything in this safe house will be distributed on a set schedule in fixed amounts. No one is allowed to take anything on their own. Second, once the game starts, there's no stopping or backing out. Third—" Before I could finish speaking, a voice from below cut me off. "Screw you. Who do you think you are, giving us orders?" The speaker was one of Tristan's men. I nodded to the burly men beside me, who stood nearly seven feet tall, signaling for them to go down and teach him a lesso