Nietzsche God Is Dead Novels & Stories

And It doesn't matter if you're the richest or the poorest, death is going to come for you one day. My grandmother used to say, "Everyone's time of death has already been predestined and signed by God, and nothing can change it." And as young as I was back then, I wondered what if I decided to kill a man, would I be doing what God had already predestined or would I be trying to change the man's time of death? My grandmother's answer to the question would always be, "Even if you plan a man's death if you succeed it would be because it was his time." So, as I planned the senator's death, it gave me a kind of weird comfort that if I succeeded, it would be because God himself wanted the man dead

I felt his gorgeous abs against my back. “I’m tired. I’m so tired Dimitri,” my head hung low. “I know. I know. Let’s go to bed.” I turned to him, his beautiful face. “No, I mean I’m tired of this. We’ve not even been together a year and had so much shit thrown at us. Maybe we are cursed.” I put my forehead on his chest. “Even if we are, I’d rather live a cursed life with you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about your brother.”

What the hell was happening to me? Nyx and Erebus shared a look, the two of them having a conversation that didn’t need words. I hated the feeling of being excluded more than I already was, but a mix of fear and pain held me at bay. I wondered if fucking a god had some until-now unknown side effects, but my thoughts were interrupted. “I don’t know if you mortals have noticed this, but,” Erebus asked, watching me as all humor evaporated from his expression. “The gods are all dead.”

“Yes. But unlike mortals who pass on to heaven or hell, when a god dies, we don’t go anywhere. We disappear. We become nothing.” A chill ran through me. “What do you mean by nothing?” “Nothingness,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “No form. No soul. No afterlife. And worse, no memory. Every trace of that god is erased from all realms. It’s as if they never existed at all.” I stared at him, the weight of that truth sinking like stones in my chest. “That’s… a terrible fate.”

This tall figure, very young face, looks like Tadhg Walter, is about twenty young people, just his aura, but very distant. It seems that he is the last passing time of the long river, also the last time of the future, he is the owner of the endless void. "Born out of nothingness, finally returned to nothingness, Death God, indeed the name is immortal." Great Emperor Otis Vincent spoke solemnly at this time. He has also reached the high level of Great Emperor, so he can naturally feel the power of this Death God. "Tadhg Walter, you finally see me." At the same time, just as Tadhg Walter transformed into the figure of this Death God, this Death God also suddenly opened his eyes and looked towa

“Well, you claim to be a God.” “It’s not a claim, it’s a fact,” I correct her. She rolls her stunning eyes at me, “Fine, you’re a God, but you mentioned another God, so how many Gods are there?” “Living?” I clarify. Her eyes open so wide they look ready to explode from the sockets, “Gods can die?!” she exclaims. “We are living beings just as you are. Though we are blessed with immortality, it does not mean we are unkillable, so yes, Gods can die,” I answer matter-of-factly.

More certain. "We'll see," he says. The training room is two floors down, and he spends the walk telling me about the Death God's mythology—the scythe, the hourglass, the absolute sovereignty over the moment of ending. "A fully realized Death God is death itself," he says. "When you can hold the complete transformation, whoever you face will simply stop. In that instant. Permanently. The soul doesn't get a second chance." I think about the scythe in the dream, the clean weight of it.

The Cathedral behind them collapsed in a plume of fire and dust, illuminating the night like the funeral pyre of a god. Edda was gone. But her final whisper still clung to the wind: You killed God twice. And something darker lingered in the silence that followed— the sense that killing a god doesn’t end the faith it leaves behind.

’’- People are dying, all lying in the ground, blood is splattered in many directions- but those who are still safe didn’t run for their lives, but instead, they pray and pray- for a savior that isn’t coming down from heavens. ‘’I can hear them… the people, but I am not helping them. I am not the Creator, this creator they’re praying to is already gone.’’ The strange symbol appeared in Zaru’s eyes. ‘’Hear me out people, I am He, the author of the book of DEOS, your prayers reached me, but I can’t help you. I need to rest.’’ -And his voice reached the worshipers’ ears. Niru is confused and asked-

Present, entirely and irrefutably, against the thing that specialized in the felt reality of absence. The god of death pushed against a territory that was more alive, at this moment, than it had been in forty years. And for the second time since his arrival, he stopped.