Malty Melromarc Death Novels & Stories

I sigh in relief. She leads us to a small corner of the shop, where she pulls out the jars of the herbs we need. "I must warn you," she says. "These herbs are not to be taken lightly. They have been known to cause hallucinations, delirium, and even death in some cases. If anyone asks, you didn't get this from me." "We understand the risks," Damon says firmly. "And thank you for doing this. We won't tell anyone." "As far as money..." My face warms. I hate begging.

Marit was laughing maniacally before shouting, "Do you remember the defenseless girl you murdered three years ago at the South Sea?! That was my sister!!!" Suddenly, her body started to swell like a balloon, and Frank only had time to pull Vicky behind a pillar. Bang! With a resounding explosion, pungent, rotting flesh shot away at every direction as Marit self-destructed! "Argh!!!" Zac screamed even as the shockwave from the explosion sent him slamming into a wall. The guests in the hall were caught in the splatter of rotting flesh and blood. Soon, they heard a loud sizzle and realized that Marit's body was highly acidic, soon leaving parts of their skin charred.

I couldn't—i just couldn't do that to her. Then the phone rang. Marco's name flashed across the screen. I swiped to answer. “This better be important.” “Boss.” Marco's voice was tight. “We have a problem. Marcus is dead.” I stilled. “What?” “Our men found him in an alley near the docks. Two bullets to the back of the head. It was a clean job.” My fingers tightened around the phone. Marcus—the weasel who'd been snapping photos of Lena for Evelyn. “When did you find out?”

“I have no reason to do such a thing. You have hundreds of allies, but they are incredibly unloyal and will defect to me when they learn that their leader has been killed. Your time is up, Amadeus. I don’t want to do this, but you have forced my hand. Any last words before I send you on a long journey?” “No,” Amadeus defiantly replied. He then closed his eyes tightly and awaited his fate. “Well, then, vfalon zenipithernomos! Goodbye forever!” Marcus yelled before stabbing his enemy’s chest and penetrating his most vital organ. Amadeus stopped breathing and fell into an eternal sleep. The man with the crimson cloak reached into his pocket and pulled out a remote-like object. He pulled a pin o

“What is this?” “That’s what killed him,” he said, his voice trembled. “H-He said if I got into trouble, I just have to…to go there.” The detective flipped the card and saw two words engrossed on it in gold ink. DOMUS MALUM His eyebrows furrowed, frustration creeping in. His head began to throb as he looked away. “Thanks for this, Mate,” he said and hopped on his car, never casting a glance again on the guy.

In timing. These souls were not scheduled. They were not substitutions. No balance was redirected to account for their removal. They were taken because Death chose to take them. That distinction matters. “You intervened,” I say. This is not accusation. It is record. Death does not deny it. He stands exactly as he always does when he carries excess, posture steady, attention precise. The markings along his form burn faintly, not fading, not dispersing. Pain contained where it always is. Within him.

Or maybe that was just his voice squeezing the last of my patience. I took another drink. Another burn. God, this shit tastes freaking terrible. “Where’s Romarco?” I asked flatly, though deep down, I already knew. There was a pause. “Dead,” he finally spat. “Like you’ll be soon if you don’t tell me who these fucking ghosts are and why they’ve been wrecking our operations.” A ghost, I wanted to correct… but instead I— I leaned back in my chair, letting the burn of the scotch crawl down my throat.

After the battle, Wilbur walked back and suddenly heard a voice coming from the front, "Did you just see it? Are you sure Marco is dead?" "Yes, sir, Mister Marco was too proud and complacent, thinking that he could pass the preliminary round with his strength. Unfortunately, he faced the guards in his final round and was killed by the guard." "Hmph, how bold of him! If Mister Horst March knows about this, I'm afraid none of the cultivators who defeated Mister Marco can make it to the finals. They all must die!"

Black liquid, blood, soaked the dirty carpet; some of them had splashed onto her face and her khaki coat. “He’s so hot, even in death,” Marc said from her side. His name was Marcus, but everyone called him Marc. “It’s an incubus. Of course, it’s good-looking. Stop talking like that about a dead body. Disgusting.” Danica shut him up. Her coat stripped off, she wiped the smelly blood off of her face with it.

Nera stood by the window, crying. "What did she say to you?" He asked "That I should free you," Nera turned Frank was quite unsure of what to say. "Marcus gets to die; you get to move on with a beautiful wife; and what do I get with my children?" She asked. "If I free you, what am I getting?" She yelled. "Was I the bad villain in this stupid life, and I get shit because it looks like you and Marcus got the easy way?" "Nera, calm down, and neither of us got it the easy way. Marcus died in an accident alone at night and bled to death," he explained.