Romans & histoires One Thousand Years Of Death

So I had a plan. Instead of being scared of me possibly dying while I'm there, seeing that both my brothers will go there and everybody… Hmm, hate my guts... I decided to take a leap of faith, take off my blindfold, and after 16 years, look in the mirror and know when and how I'm going to die. But what I saw wasn't pleasant at all.

Mila eyed me and said quietly, "Julian wants handmade pottery made for his show next month. Make him a piece in the next couple days." I'd learnt pottery and was basically a master at it, but it would take time and energy. And in the days leading to my forty-sixth death, Milla had me work day and night as a joke. My eyes were damaged while I died at midnight from overworking, and my sight remained poor even after I was revived. The doctor told me not to work, and Mila knew about it—she just didn't care. Still, I turned to smile at Mila tenderly with a look of pure, endless love. "Okay, I will."

One Thousand Years After the War The amphitheater had been built for this specific purpose—to hold the Millennial Council, where representatives from across the known world gathered to commemorate the thousand-year anniversary of the Great War and to hear from the last living witness. Elara stood backstage, preparing herself. At a thousand and thirty-five years old—give or take, she'd stopped counting precisely after the first few centuries—she was the oldest living being in recorded history. Functionally immortal, unchanged from the day of her reconstitution, she'd watched empires rise and fall, technologies evolve beyond recognition, and the coalition she'd helped build transform into some

Now she was a pile of mangled flesh lying in the morgue. I turned and went back inside, locked the door, and slid down against it until I was sitting on the floor. My phone vibrated. "Backup slots are full. In the next cycle, death cannot be transferred." The next day, the sun came up, and the world went on as usual. Except for Unit 703. There was still no movement. I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. The scratch at the corner of my eye was still there. It was thin, narrow, and capped with a faint scab.

Midnight Execution… The spell of bones… “I told Eldon not to do anything that would send her over the edge… He said he wouldn’t but as you said he’s not exactly trustworthy.” “Can Death magic even affect Eldon?” Conor asked curiously. I hope so. We should totally get rid of that jerk. “I’ve been told no, but we constantly learn new things all the time about the Death magic. Death magic is not well documented since it only comes around every three hundred years or so. No one has kept a written record of it.” Nathan explained. He looked uncomfortable as Alexander kept crying. Conor looked over to Joanne and Aaron who were trying to soothe him, but he pushed away from them. He’s looking right a

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

It started slowly until it collapsed at the entirety of Maru's body. Totally encasing his seated rest in a perfect pyramid composed of the solid sheen of frost. The lone occupant inside the shell of ice took the elemental power in stride and moved not nor uttered a single word for more than five million years of meditation. And after that, the list can only grow longer. "Death." "Life." "Dao of the Sword." "Blood." "Space." "Time." "Slaughter." "Mortality." . .. ... Eras passed. Epochs were visited.

That idea somehow felt worse. The End wasn't motivated by hatred. Or revenge. Or conquest. It genuinely believed it was helping. The memory shifted again. Showing stars dying. Worlds collapsing. Civilizations fading naturally. Time claiming everything. Orion gestured toward the vision. "The End witnessed the first death." The stars dimmed. "It witnessed the second." Another dimming. "The thousandth." The vision grew darker. "The millionth." Silence. The forgotten Sovereign looked toward them. "Eventually it decided death was unacceptable."

There was a shred of fear even as the mystery woman replied coolly, "I don't know. But if it is truly the coffin that once destroyed the gods, we need to be prepared." The pupil of the Great Eye twitched as she continued, "All life has been growing without end and draining dry the universe of precious resources, overloading the universe… That's why the Root saw fit to forge the Coffin of the Gods, appearing once every ten million years to wipe out all life!"