Hellsing Games Novels & Stories

“Did I enter the wrong room? Is this even a horror game? I thought I clicked an otome game!” Everyone was stunned, and just like that, under the players’ watchful eyes, he carried me upstairs.

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS IS A G****E TRANSLATED VERSION. WE JUST NEED FUNDS TO SAVE DOGS’ LIVES. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME. I WILL REVISED THIS SOON. GAME TEN:Bleeding Is it possible to feel different emotions in one snap of time?

"There's no way in hell I'm wearing that." "Are you willing to play for it?" "Play?" He turns around and goes back to the display of adult games. When he returns, he's holding something called "Hang the Cock on the Hunk." It looks like a version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, only... well, you know. "What do you say?" he asks. His gaze is dark, wicked. "Why would I agree to that?" I say. "If I refuse to play then I don't have to risk anything."

And he knows that too and that gives me a little power over him. With our eyes still locked, I slowly pull him toward me, and he lets me. Despite wearing heels, he’s taller than me. I lean on my toes to whisper into his ear, “I see the way you look at me. I can even smell the hunger from here… Dominique Gray. I know you want to fuck me, desperately, if I might add, but you need to understand one thing; I’m not every other girl, and you need to try harder,” I voice out, my breath warm against his skin. “I don’t know what little games you are playing, and you and I know you’re playing these little games…” I pause to look at him and I’m not surprised by the blank expression on his face. “You’re

She mostly kept to the city, but she loved the sights of the colourful lights and brightly decorated stores that stood out in the gloom of the night. “What are you hungry for?” “Anything.” She answered, distracted by the teenage girls playing hopscotch in front of a four-storey building. “Anything.” He repeated. “Do you come here often?” "Not recently, but I used to." He pointed at her window. "There is a gaming centre down that road. In college, I loved to come over and play a game or ten with my friends." "What kind of games." "RPG." "Are you any good?"

Isabella's hands shook violently at the sight of the words on her phone screen, her pulse pounding in her ears. *********************************** Alexander Elysian drummed his fingers on the desk as his reflection distorted in its smooth surface. The rising sun painted the sky in hues of sky-blue and orange. He couldn't shake the image of her - the woman from the gallery,off his mind. Her defiant eyes, the way she'd slipped through his fingers. No one outsmarted Alexander Elysian. No one. His jaw clenched. How dare she speak to him like that? Didn't she know who he was?

My knees give out, and I collapse, the world spinning until everything goes black. But even in the darkness, there's no peace. My nightmares have a way of twisting, taking me back further, to when I was twelve and lost in a different kind of hell. I'm in that cold, dark basement in Russia, where the air is so thick with fear it's almost tangible. The ropes dig into my wrists, my body aches from the beatings, and the hunger gnaws at me like a relentless predator.

Alpha Pharoah Kingtin sneered as if truly disgusted by the outcome of the game. “Then it means, Father, ‘Games of Fangs and Death’ is still easy. Try harder the next time so that no one can come out of it alive.” Princess Ameerah tried to calm herself. The Alpha Pharoah should not notice that she was extremely affected by his decision to kill Fiel Davidal.

“The police came… they sealed the house. They said no girl was found there. But when I came to college… that same day, a new girl was sitting on the first bench. When I asked her name, she said — ‘Siya.’ But there was a reflection of glass in her eyes… as if she were still trapped behind it.” Arya’s voice stopped. The entire hall fell into silence again. Someone said softly, “That girl… where is she now?” Arya said only this — “She’s here.” Everyone’s eyes turned toward her — but Arya’s chair was empty. On the floor lay a broken piece of glass, in which everyone’s reflections shimmered… except Arya’s. The candle went out. Someone said in a trembling voice, “Whose turn is it now…?”

My voice broke with panic, my hands scrambling for my blade. “Quick, Eren, torches—now!” Aziz barked. Flint scratched. A torch flared, then another. Uncle Eren shoved one into a wall sconce, the flames casting long, jittering shadows. Then it happened. Our hellblades began to glow. A red pulse, faint at first, then stronger, like a heartbeat shared between them all. The glow shimmered across the stone, reflecting in our eyes. My throat tightened. “Why is it glowing already, I don’t see anything?”