Hellsing Games Novels & Stories

“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?”

It is a sickly, grey-green, rotting color, stretched too tightly against a cheekbone that juts like a blade. Elyra inhales sharply. “What in the gods…” The Herald tilts his head sharply, too sharply, like a puppet whose strings have been yanked in the wrong direction. His entire body follows in a delayed, jerky shiver. His voice, normally calm and echoing, bursts out of him in a distorted rasp: “T-Th-There will be…” His head twitches. “…a DELAY in the G-GAMES.” Elyra steps in front of me.

Even though she had forgotten, her instincts were still present as she played the game. When she entered the game room, there were already a number of people in the team. One by one, she identified each gamer. 'Is everyone here yet? We'll start right away.' Rex wrote. As soon as he said that, a magnificent golden light special effect shone from the sky in the game. A colorful light cascaded from the sky before a male character in golden armor descended from the sky and landed before Hilda. Hilda examined this character, who was wearing a golden armored robe with a long sword hanging on his green silk waistband, the character design was very cool.

Forcing her to witness the killing of all her friends in this heinous and savage way, drowning in a wave of guilt every time the siren enters them and chooses one of them, so she is forced to listen to their cries and wails until they finish them once and for all, and the shame with which this demon drive will defile her. She opened her eyes, staring at the depth of his empty eyes that were attracting her to their decision without any effort, losing herself in their darkness. She felt her mouth float with a viscous, disgusting liquid that tasted like gall running down her throat, which was stubbornly resisting not swallowing, urging her to vomit, and only then did she regain consciousness an

[Atticus] Laz records the results, documenting this decision in the meeting log and we move on to the next element of the game--choosing the method. As last year’s winner, I get to choose. “I thought we’d go a bit ‘old school’ for this year’s game,” I announce as I stand and pull an old deck of cards from the pocket of my jacket. “Like Old Testament. How many of you know the seven deadly sins?” Evie yawns, stretching her arms above her head. “BOOOOORING,” she moans, opening her perfectly painted mouth wide. “Sloth, lust, greed, envy, blah blah blah. When did you get religious, Ace?”

They were his allies in this game, and together, they would execute the plan flawlessly. Little did Horacio know that he was walking into a carefully orchestrated trap. Max had meticulously planned every move, every conversation, to manipulate him and expose his true colors. It was a game of psychological warfare, and Max was determined to emerge as the victor. The night wore on, and Max's mind buzzed with anticipation. The stage was set, and the battle had begun. He would navigate through the intricate twists and turns of this revenge, leaving Horacio shattered in his wake. With a renewed sense of purpose, Max raised his beer and proposed a toast to friendship and loyalty. His friends clink

My mech groaned under the crushing weight and the wail of an alarm filled my capsule. My shield was my saviour-the Goliath slid down my front in a shower of sparks, unable to remain atop me. A torrent of bullets pounded against my armour, accompanied by Harlow's crazed shouting. "You're a hypocritical one, aren't you?" Harlow roared. He sounded unhinged. "You act high and mighty and then don't hesitate to try to drop another building on my men!" Harlow's Goliath was as unsubtle as he was, bristling with no fewer than six railguns. The Goliath was a lead hose-an endless stream of bullets pounded at me from all angles.

"Why? Why? I just wanted to go home. That's all I wanted." I pulled her into a hug, my voice low. "It's okay. It's over. You can live now. Really live." She nodded through the tears, watching as I headed for the next floor. Floor 28. The player was already gone. I leaned in, careful. "Hello? Anyone home?" No reply—just barking. Then it stepped out. A three-headed hellhound, jaws soaked in blood. One head was half-destroyed, brain matter leaking out.

A door stood slightly open at the end. Jovial stopped breathing. “That’s him,” she whispered. I pushed the door open. Inside the room— Isaac stood against the far wall. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair messy and his eyes wide and frantic. His entire body looked like it was trembling. In his hand was a knife. The moment he saw us, his arm jerked up. The blade pointed toward us. Jovial gasped. “Isaac—” His arm moved suddenly. The knife swung from us… to his own throat.