Human Cross Sans Novels & Stories

He ripped through them with savage grace, tearing heads from necks, ripping out hearts before they could even scream. Blood stained the ground, but Cross didn't slow. Ten powerful Lycans, each one skilled and brutal, fell by his claws and teeth. When the last body dropped, Cross shifted back, blood dripping from his fingers. He wiped his mouth, then turned and jogged calmly back to the training grounds as if nothing had happened. By the time Cross returned, I was already back on the field, watching two warriors spar. He caught my eye and gave a small nod. Danger had been dealt with…for now.

Not everyone in this room trusted him. “I’m Zen. No family name, I cut all connections with them. My family now consist of Big brother Wind and big sister Sasha. My speciality is something different from everyone. I’ve never killed before and honestly, I wish for as little meaningless deaths in this game as possible. There is a way to clear this death game with as little casualties as possible. I believe we will be able to clear the VR dungeons faster than Guild Carnage can kill everyone because my special ability is the Gamer.”

Serrano stated in response as I slid the tumbler over to him. “Perhaps you should tell your bastard brother Thant,” I replied and he chuckled again, this time a lot outer than before. “Cross,” he tutted, shaking his head as though we were talking about a child. “I heard from your lackey that he’s been sending men after you. He must truly want you dead.” I didn’t bother mentioning the fact that Cross had offered a deal with me, twice now. Cross hated Mikael Serrano on principle but i knew the Serpenti was hurt by my refusal to even think about his offer. I was the most powerful ally he would have had against Serrano.

"We find a way to destroy them both." Mother's lips curved in a small, approving smile. "Finally, someone with spine." I looked between the two women, doubt warring with the temptation of revenge. "Did you see what Cross is? What he can do? He's not just a werewolf with lycan blood. He's something else entirely." "All creatures can be killed," Sara said coldly. "Even hybrids." Her certainty was both attractive and frightening. "With what? Silver barely affected him before, and now we know why. What weapon could possibly hurt something like him?" I couldn't keep the frustration from my voice.

"What is that...?" Careful now no longer to examine the pass in the back of him that stood at his height, Anna grew to become her gaze away and inquired. "The pass-fashioned sacred sword, the 'The Scared Cross Blade.' Just by elevating it, regular vampires can be immobilized. Its blade is likewise very sharp. Its most effective flaw is it is too heavy. Probably 30kg." "I have researched crosses in my line of work, yours... A weapon? And the holiness it carries... Very notable."

“But on one condition.” “Name it.” “No more collateral damage. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it clean. No unnecessary deaths, no civilians getting hurt.” Cross nodded. “Deal.” I could tell he was unsure. “And another thing,” I added, my voice firm. “If this goes south, you take the fall. I’m not sacrificing my career for you.” “Understood.” We shook hands, the gesture feeling heavier than it should have. As I pulled away, Cross’s hand lingered, his thumb brushing against mine.

Damon crossed the floor, running a critical eye over every detail; the lighting, the projection angles, the placement of the CrossTech insignia. Everything was under control. Just as he liked it. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, the thought remained. ShadowByte is out there. And when Damon Cross wanted something, it was only a matter of time.

He crossed to the nurses’ station, spoke in low tones to the doctor, and stood off to the side with his arms crossed. He was here for Ethan. Not for me. The distance was deliberate, and it carved through me deeper than any words. --- Finally, after what felt like hours but must have been minutes, a doctor approached. Everyone rose at once. “Ethan Cole is stable,” she said, her tone brisk but gentle. “He suffered a severe flare-up from an old injury. He pushed far beyond safe limits tonight, and his body gave out under the strain.” Stable. The word should have been enough. But the rest of it — old injury, unsafe, gave out — lodged like shards in my chest.

He bent down to pick the phone as he said comfortingly, “I’m also at fault.” “Let me see where you’re hurt,” he stood up and took my hand in his. I froze when I saw his face. “Sky?!” I screamed inwardly. What was he doing here? Probably because he was engrossed with looking at my hand, he hadn’t noticed that it was me, as he hadn’t stared at my face properly. “I, I’m fine,” I took my hand from his and turned away before he could look at my face. He definitely wouldn't recognize me from behind because in school, my hair was always packed in a pony or a bun, but now, my hair fell freely on my shoulders, which explained why he didn't recognize me without a proper glance.