Noblesse: Beginning Of Destruction Novels & Stories

One afternoon, a young nobleman, a man with a cruel smirk and a reputation for arrogance, had taunted him. “What’s the matter, Destroyer?” he had sneered, circling him. “Feeling sorry for the peasants? Did you get a little too close to the fire? Maybe you should have let the monster have them. It would have been one less mouth to feed.” Androkles hadn’t said a word. He had just moved, a blur of motion and steel. His attacks had no longer been precise, calculated strikes.

His touch promises everything I've never had. But then reality crashes back. Declan. Just. Kissed. Me. Declan, who moments ago wanted me to kiss his feet. Who thinks he can buy anything - or anyone - he wants? Who sees me as something to be "cleaned up." And in that moment, I realized something important: there are some things money can't buy. My dignity is one of them.

He quickly closed the gate back and moved closer to stand beside her as they both stared at the gate, And back to the house he just came out from, trying to match their thoughts on the cause of the problem. As Natasha looked at the boss’s beautiful mansion, she quickly forgot about the problem that happened a while ago. She was mesmerized by how tall and well constructed the building was. She remembered that she hadn’t taken her time to view the building. She opened her mouth wide in excitement, wondering how lucky their boss' wife is for living in a mansion like this. She wished the mansion belonged to Daniel. Daniel on the other hand went to return the bucket and the short towel he used to

"I am the—" The vortex claimed him. Chains of moonlight—echoes of the naming—snapped from the shattered dome, binding his form as they had the assassin. But this was no mere judgment; it was unraveling. Four centuries compressed, not into agony, but into oblivion: every stolen life, every twisted ambition, feeding back into the serpent's maw until it choked on its own tail. Valois screamed once—a sound that echoed through Prague's stones, felt by every old bloodline from here to the Carpathians—then imploded, his throne shattering into a thousand glinting scales that rained harmlessly to the floor.

The card read simply: "For tomorrow's rebirth. - V" I touched the earrings gently, understanding the symbolism. Tomorrow marked not just a business success but my emergence from the ashes. My introduction to the world that had forgotten Camille Lewis, the world about to meet Camille Kane. Let them celebrate tonight, I thought. Let them bask in their triumph, their perfect love story, their bright future together. Tomorrow belonged to me. And all the tomorrows after that. What awaited them was far worse than fire. It was the precise, methodical deconstruction of everything they believed secure. The surgical removal of every support structure. The clean, untraceable dismantling of their perfec

After the makeup artist finished with me, I heard Victor's voice and turned to see him holding a stunning red silk gown. "It's beautiful." I gasped in awe. But as my gaze lingered on the dress, a pang of nostalgia struck me. The gown bore a striking resemblance to the one I wore during our first engagement. My heart tightened as memories of that day resurfaced. Why would Xavier choose this gown? Without saying a word, I put on the gown and finished getting ready. Though thrilled about starting a new life with Xavier, I couldn't shake my nervousness or the unease that came with revisiting our past.

Lana points to a page on the journal, “Le destructeur de tous et de ses proches, la mort, la guerre et la Pestilence, récolteront la destruction de tous. Le sacrifice de l'humanité sera son champion. Si l'amour et la bonté prévalent, le monde sera sauvé. Si la mort et l'avidité réussissent, la fin sera un nouveau commencement rempli de mort, d'assujettissement et de destruction.” I interpret it out loud, “The destroyer of all and her kin, death, war, and Pestilence, shall reap the destruction of all. Humanity's sacrifice shall be its champion. Should love and goodness prevail, the world will be saved. Should death and greed succeed, the end shall be a new beginning filled with death, subjuga

Willingly wrought by hands that had once braided my daughter's hair and signed treaties that promised peace to generations yet unborn. The Council no longer existed, not in any meaningful sense. After Celestina's blood painted the marble floors of the great hall, transforming ancient stone into a canvas of my rage, the remaining nobles had faced a simple choice: bow or vanish. Most chose to bow, their spines bending like wheat before the storm, their eyes empty of everything but the will to survive another day in a world that no longer made sense. But the ones who vanished? The ones who thought distance or death might protect them from my reach?

They were not bound by the solemnity of the moment, nor did they grant the blood time to congeal before they began weaving their plans. In a far corner, the nobles huddled together, their opulent robes billowing around them, shielding them from the crimson testament to their rebellion. Their shoes, polished to a mirror-like gleam, remained unsullied, a stark contrast to the fallen king at their feet. It was as though they had shed the last vestiges of humanity, consumed by the ravenous hunger for power.