How To Survive As A Player Novel Novels & Stories

"Because my entire life, when something fast and heavy came at my head, the only way I survived was by getting smaller." "You cannot get smaller anymore," he said, his hand finally coming down to rest on my shoulder. His fingers were hot, the calluses on his palm rough against my bare skin where my training shift had slipped. He didn't pull me up, but his touch was an anchor, a solid weight that kept the cavern from spinning. "The servant girl survives by hiding. The Queen survives by striking first. If you flinch at the Conclave, they will see the servant, and they will tear you apart." "I am not a Queen yet," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool stone of the floor. The chill o

"Your luck has turned. What should have benefited you now actually harms you. Every choice becomes increasingly difficult." I sat there, rainwater dripping in my hair. I wanted to scream, wanted to destroy this entire ridiculous story. But I was in Helena's weak and helpless body. If it was still Helena playing out this story, she would surely be crying over her fate. But I am Kayla, and I must have 1001 ways to survive from worse than this. "Oh yeah. Tell me something, Ety. Are there other people here from my timeline? Like other Players?" I coaxed her.

Chapters turned into a story. And before I could catch my breath, it was no longer a coping mechanism. It was a novel. In my story, the characters aren’t named Stacey and Noah, but anyone who truly looked could recognize us in the margins. The male lead is a basketball player with a fire in his eyes and the weight of his dreams pressing hard on his back. The female lead is older, cautious, guarding her heart like it’s glass but unable to resist the pull of something dangerous, something real.

If they are intimidated by your light, tell them to wear sunglasses. Find your pack. It might not be blood. It might be a giant with a quiet heart, or a partner who challenges your mind. But find the people who would burn the city down for you. And when you find them... protect them. You come from a line of Survivors. You come from the Wolf and the Architect. We did not survive the fire so you could live in fear. Dry your tears. Fix your hair. Stand up. The story isn't over. It’s just your turn to write the next chapter.

Solace seemed to believe that the only way to motivate us was to keep death constantly in front of our faces, a thing that was always waiting, always hungry, always watching. Maybe she was right. Because as the weeks went on, we stopped being a group of shocked survivors and started being something closer to actual fighters. Not good fighters—we weren't anywhere near Solace's level or even Vex's. But competent enough that I could spar with someone without immediately disarming myself, competent enough that I could actually hit a target with a bow, at least occasionally.

He lifted the queen from the board and placed it gently into her open palm. The polished ebony felt unexpectedly heavy. "If you learn this game..." His voice softened. "...no one will ever move you like a pawn again." Valentina stared at the queen resting in her hand. For so long, she had believed surviving meant running. Hiding. Escaping. Now she understood. To survive... She would have to learn the game. Her fingers slowly closed around the queen. And for the first time since entering the De Luca mansion... She chose to fight. ***** Deep beneath Manhattan...

My bad habit was curling my toes when I was anxious. Why? I didn't move again. I stayed still. Maybe they would go away. I was done. There was no way now. "She looks dead though." It was another soldier. "Who could survive after falling from that height?" I wanted to give a thumbs up to that soldier. "What if it's an undead?" The first soldier asked with a trembling voice. "The undead city isn't far from here." Undead city? There was no such mention in the novel. Then again, the novel focussed too much on the female lead's love life.

Fiel stated seriously. A thrifty smile crept through the warrior's lips. "Be alive until the end, it will be much better," the warrior responded before he finally close the door of Fiel's room. With a nod, Fiel watched as the door closed gently. He felt relieved today for surviving that more difficult stage of the game. Tomorrow, he knew it will be harder. Fiel fought the urge to be afraid, to be depressed, and to lose hope. "I am still alive and I will survive until the end of this game. I will have that free pass out of this hell place," he murmured fueling himself to stay strong and focus. His goal is to survive and leave this place of his nightmare.

It was a nightmare anyway he thought about it. I didn't even want to imagine if it was me who died. Impossible. If he had come this far, he could continue to survive. Surely G wouldn't even show up, Hunter even less so. Plus it could always alert them in some way. He wasn't going to let anyone get killed. I would have to be more cunning than usual and try to make the lies come out more natural. Now what? I sighed and covered my face with a pillow. These things shouldn't happen to a writer. If he ever left this life once and for all, he would publish a book: How to Survive the Mafia.

A man even slammed his club into a girl’s jaw and once she was down and sobbing loudly, he heartlessly played his game, passed, and hurried back into his pod. The timer beeped red, crows attacked, the blade came and blood splashed. It was soon a warzone of survival. People suddenly wanted to walk out alive. Cold sweats ran down my spine. “Pod twenty, step forward” And finally…the dice rolled to me.