New World Death Mote นิยาย & เรื่องราว

What is death? What does it mean to die? Where does that immortal part of us go when we die? Or is this fragile world the only thing there is? As the son of a priest of the god of death, I need not tell you that Mortis is the most austere, demanding, and ruthless deity. He offers very little in terms of blessings and favors to the common man who does his thing, and yet we all beg for his mercy. All the souls of the dead belong to him and he greedily treasures them ... he is a cruel and ruthless god who knows no mercy.

"Now, ask important questions. I'll give you three." David nods again. God waits. "What is this world? Tell me more about it." "Foserense is a world I just finished creating. Its basic physics and rules are similar to the ones followed by your universe with some additions." "What additions?" "Is that your 2nd question?" "Ummm... No?" "Then I won't answer it." "Fudge. Okay, will I get anything when I go down there?" "A gift from me but otherwise nothing." "A gift?" "Is that your third question?"

Something twisted deep inside me. The person lying there was no longer me. A short while later, the woman on the bed slowly opened her eyes. She turned her gaze toward me and forced an awkward smile. "Host," she said softly. "Long time no see." Sadness flickered through me. In this world, she alone could still perceive my existence. "NODE, I lost," I said. The woman on the bed sighed. "The settlement had already been completed. Your mission is still considered finished." NODE, the Neural Outcome Determination Engine, paused before she continued in a calm, precise tone, "I intervened this time. If you fail to exit this world at the next node and another non-natural death occurs, no one will b

Not with terror, but with the understanding that here was something powerful enough to warrant careful attention. “There are many layers to the death world,” Noxx said as we walked, his hand still holding mine with an easy familiarity that should have felt presumptuous but didn't. “Think of it as several worlds stacked on top of one another. Different planes, different rules, different purposes. Where you end up depends on what you want. On what you need. Some seek rest. Some seek answers. Some seek the path to being reborn.” “Reborn?”

They were the very reason he could draw a breath without the metallic tang of silver-poisoning. But above the vibrant sun, something else was moving. A second moon had appeared. It was a massive, silver-white orb that lacked the iridescent glow of the Lunar Council’s authority. It was flat, matte, and terrifyingly silent. For a wolf, the world was defined by its scent—the smell of rain, the musk of the pack, the iron of blood. But this new celestial body was a void in the sensory world. It was a "Dead Moon." It had no scent. It didn't even have a shadow. It was a cataract over the eye of the universe, and as it descended, the vibrant colors of the Silver Peaks began to fade.

Layla's fans sang her praises, saying that she was kind, beautiful, and the best sister in the world. It was raining on the day they cremated my remains. Layla carried the urn containing my ashes and pretended to shed a few tears. I moved toward her. Then, I tried to punch and kick Layla to try and get her hands off me. It was so revolting. Everything about this world sickened me. I dropped to the ground after having exhausted myself. Then, I watched as they put me inside a small box. The words, "Our dearest daughter, Hazel Larson", could be seen on the rectangular tombstone. How ironic.

It all seemed to mock my weakness. My mind replayed the altercation relentlessly. I saw Rykor's eyes, how they flickered with a mix of shock and something else, something I dared not name. His pack’s faces, previously bright with warmth, turned mute with disillusionment. Blood pounded in my ears as I curled onto the floor, my body racked with silent sobs. Anyone or anything I touched died. The marks on my skin stood as a grotesque testament to my cursed existence—a tattooed ledger of my sins. Could I ever escape the sense of dread, or would I forever be the Luna of Death, feared and isolated?

Orion just stares at Death, clearly shocked and confused as to why his father would give up his mantle now that he has this new, immense power. “And I!” Death declares, looking around at his courtiers, and his priests, and the girls all dressed in red. “Will be Emperor of this entire Planet! I claim it as my own, I seize it from Darkness himself!” A huge pulse – much more powerful than the one we felt before – pounds out around us, echoing through the entire space. My eyes go wide as I realize that Death just declared a new war, and this time against a much, much more powerful foe than I.

Dead people don’t… I touched my chest… ba‑dump, ba‑dump… it was there—my heartbeat. So… why is my heart beating like a trapped rabbit if I’m dead? And if I was not, then what was this place? I couldn’t possibly be dead. Could I? [Player 09. Player 013. Reaper 077. Head to the Exit. Bus doors will be open for survived players after dawn.] An old man from seat number 09 stood and waited at the entrance of the door. He didn’t seem scared at all. As if he was used to all of this.

During the cold, the girl let out a loud cry, and I held her tightly against my chest. “Take them,” I barked. “Now.” We vanished into the night. Old blood and new ambition emanated from the underground temple. Hundreds of the Death Pack, which were full of cursed wolves with unnaturally bright eyes and covered in darkness, had Dante waiting at the altar. He resembled a shadowy king, sweating on his hair and having veins that were black from the dark beer he had consumed at this time. He expressed his gleeful approval, saying "You did it." “Don't act surprised.”