Malty Melromarc Death Novels & Stories

In the instant he jumped, Marcus thought that it would be best if he could somehow get to the alternate universe where Risa never existed. It would be best if he met Amanita first. Unfortunately, there was no such thing in life. He had lost it all. Before Marcus died, he removed the bomb from his body. Thus, he was the only fatality from his jump. No one else was hurt. Amanita and Samuel got married successfully, and Dennis ended up arranging for Marcus’s funeral. “Marcus, I hated you when you were alive.” Standing before Marcus’s grave, Dennis took out a bottle of wine and poured a glass to place before the gravestone. Dennis drank the rest of the bottle.

“I have bad news. First, our financial department just confirmed that we’d be forced to file for bankruptcy if nothing is done within forty-eight hours.” I sigh in defeat. I had left my father’s house in anger ten years ago and worked tirelessly to build a new life. I started a winery which had grown into a billion-dollar company until a few months ago when my company was accused of a food poisoning scandal. “The investors all want to pull out so we have no choice.” “But?” I ask. The broken glass in my hands pricks my finger and a drop of blood falls to the ground. “Your father is dead,” Theodore mumbles.

Each to his own. Down in the basement, the interrogation room was a bleak and clinical space. Cold metal surfaces reflected the harsh overhead lights, and the air was heavy with the sterile scent of disinfectant. But tonight, it held something far grimmer. Malric’s body lay draped across the cold steel table, his face and body marked and discolored in patches. A result of the poison that was the cause of his death. His eyes were closed, but the peace they showed was only the absence of life. The once loyal guardian had been taken from them—murdered inside their stronghold.

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

"Don't look for the dead! The dead can't come back to life so don't ask me any more questions about him!" As Dymon said, I was the one who stood up. And the shoulder shaking made me cry. That's how true my dream is. Don Jose was gone so he said goodbye and asked for my forgiveness in the dream. Dymon laughed loudly and punched the glass. He was trying to break it so he could reach me. He screamed while his hand was bleeding from the punch. The police immediately entered Dymon's room and electrocuted him. He quickly lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

After a thorough investigation by the production team, the details of my past were quickly uncovered. They also confirmed with the relevant authorities that I had, in fact, already passed away. "Three years ago, Nicolas Soros died on a snowy night—frozen to death because he couldn't afford hospitalization. "It wasn't until the autopsy that the coroner discovered that what looked like a thick down jacket… didn't even contain real padding. And that was already the most expensive piece of clothing his mother had ever bought for him. With discounts, it cost less than five dollars.

Marco asked as Elena tried to see in the police cars to see if they finally nabbed Marco. “About that,” the detective cleared his throat. “The bomb timer seemed to have some sort of fault and exploded before time,” Elena could barely breathe. “Does that mean–” “Yes,” The detective gave a nod. “Marcel is dead,”

One month after… … Marcus died due to the Pandemic that swept the world. ♦ ♦ ♦ "Raise your head and look at me" Zark demanded, before him, was an illusory reflection of his old self. Marcel was reflecting the same ideals as his. Marcel's gaze lifted from his position on the ground and he looked directly at Zark, which he saw petrified. Pale skin like a corpse, empty eyes submerged in a perpetual darkness in which he had a single purple point, a black ring which radiated the purest of light was on his head.

A little bit surprised but he didn't look back as he already felt his presence, he knew who it was. "Marek!," Lucian said as he couldn't hide the smile that crept in on his face. Marek is one of Lucian's childhood best friends and also his beta, unlike Lucian's perfect physique, Marek could also pass for a handsome man, he's a blonde hair guy with a round face and cherry full lips. five months back Keres invaded the neighboring village, the hometown of Marek. [Keres are death spirit, though they do not cause people to die they waited for people to die so they could feed on their flesh] Anywhere those ominous spirit stays it becomes erie, cold, and full of wraith.

The arrogance of a foot soldier who thought his moment had come. "Cure? That’s dramatic," I said, chuckling. "What are you? An off-brand Bond villain? You really came here dressed as a waiter? Did you think that would be your legacy?" Marlo gritted his teeth. "We can take three. Maybe four. But not all." Mortis said nothing, just stared down the barrel of his gun with that same dead-eyed calm he always had. My men were ready to die with me, if that was what it came to.