Heroic Death System Novels & Stories

He doubles over, and I take the opportunity to land an elbow to the back of his neck making him drop to the floor. “Are you ready to die like your friend?” I ask. “Fuck you bitch. You can’t win against our army. Scàthach will triumph and you will all die.” “Ew, can we not do the villain monologue? It’s so annoying and cliché.” I say before I extend my claws and rip his heart out through his back. That was seriously badass and gross, all at the same time. Hey, he’s dead, his friend is dead, and Wyatt is dead. That’s all that matters.

When I put two fingers on her throat I could feel her pulse but it was weak. It was like a candle in the wind. One beat. Nothing. Then another. I had seen a lot of people die. Men begging for mercy. Women cursing. Kids who were too shocked to understand what was happening. Death is pretty efficient when you see it a lot. It's predictable like a door that only opens one way. Kneeling next to her, I found myself listening for each beat like it was a verdict. I was calculating because that's what I do. If she died now, the anomaly would die with her.

The linguistic scholar died. Before we could even reach the secondary stairwell, the massive, tinted glass windows of the living room shattered inward. A hail of high-velocity tactical rounds tore through the air, punching violent holes into the dark velvet couches and marble walls. Three heavily armed mercenaries, clad in matte-black tactical gear and Vance syndicate insignias, breached the shattered ledge using high-tension ziplines from an adjacent rooftop. Malakai returned fire instantly, his sidearm barking three times in rapid succession. The lead mercenary dropped hard against the broken glass, a tight cluster of crimson blooming across his chest.

I paused before continuing, "You acted the same way in our past life. You had me wrapped around your finger with your honeyed words, even though you were telling everyone else that you were going to protect Riley. You swindled me out of all my resources and locked me in a warehouse to await death." Panic flickered in Frank's eyes as he seemed to recall a vague memory. However, the system didn't give him the time that he needed to sift through his hazy memories. His body disappeared in the next second. "Frank Gideon has died. His teleportation skill can be claimed." Riley and I didn't move an inch. After all, Frank's skill was utterly useless to us. … On the seventh day, the system deployed a

"Avelina, I trust you. We'll leave Nina in your hands." I was restrained by two bodyguards, so no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't move. I could only watch helplessly as Avelina returned to the OR. I remembered that in my past life, less than half an hour later, Avelina came running out in a panic to announce Nina's death. The consent form, which included the organ donation clause, had allowed her to freely harvest all of Nina's organs. And now, she had already re-entered the operating room with the form in hand.

Even an enhanced one. Jack’s knees buckled. He sank down. Inch by inch. [SYSTEM ALERT: Vital Signs Critical. Emergency Shutdown Imminent.] [Action Required: KNEEL to stabilize blood pressure.] [Action Required: KNEEL.] [Action Required: KNEEL.] The System—his parents' legacy, his "tutorial"—was screaming at him to give up. It calculated the odds. 0% chance of victory. 100% chance of death if he remained upright. The logical, programmed response was submission.

Her pain was so vivid that anyone seeing the photo could feel it. I suddenly felt a chill go down my spine. A wave of grief and bitterness swept over me, and I felt like I had died all over again. That day, after getting out of the car, I had fallen into a hunting trap and died on the spot—both lives were lost. I gritted my teeth and looked at Enzo. He stood there looking like he'd been struck by lightning—motionless and not even breathing. He stared hard at that photo, and his eyes gradually became more bloodshot.

I stepped further and intertwined my hands at my back with my face giving each and every heads a terrifying look. “In front was the field of death, and behind… were warriors willing to kill every last soldier of your team. You have nothing to go if you want to escape,” I threatened. “So, to anyone still keeping his loyalty to Daghum’s Princess Deianira Deltran… I’m giving you the honor to die heroically!” Two from Mayari’s platoon opened the exit from the barrier we set up and the other wolves from Sanguine pushed them to head the exit. On their face creeps horror and stunned shut as they move with the flow, getting out of the barrier to face their deaths unconsciously.

That skill was used to blow up others, and the cost of the player's own life. Seeing six corpses lying on the Battlefield was speechless. Phantasm was so ruthless that he would rather die together than let you win. James shouted, “Holy Shit! Master, what’s going on? Who is going to win? Both sides are dead.” “Let’s see what system decides.” I said calmly. In the end, the system decides that the side of Phantasm would win. If both parties were dead, or if the time was up and no one was dead, the system would choose the winner based on the output.

"Don't blame me. These four made men won't fall irrevocably in love with me. Not with you around. Swallow your data, and I'm home free." The days blurred into endless degradation. Beatings, humiliation, and daily sedatives that left me too weak to even lift a finger, let alone end my own life. I begged The System to release me, over and over. Its cold, unchanging response: Voluntary death is the only permitted exit. No system intervention allowed. When I asked if Rosa would face punishment for harming a fellow player, it gave a hollow, noncommittal answer: Player-on-player harm is permitted if mission targets are unharmed.