Paranormal Games Novelas e Histórias

But who knew that the fantasy romance novel would suddenly get turned into a horror novel. 'Halloween's Party', a game where selected people gets chosen to participate in a supernatural survival game. Those selected people are called as the ‘Players’. It is said that if you complete and clear 'Halloween's Party' you will get what you desire. No matter the wealth, beauty, power or even immortality.

That's definitely awesome, haha. Suddenly, something appeared on my screen. Hmm .. What is this? I opened it even though I saw an unusual mail with an unfamiliar address. Ohh…. Happy day! This is a BLKQ gaming product. We have watched countless game streams, but only you have managed to hold our interest. You are cordially invited to join our team. If you have made a decision, you can respond to this email. We're eager for you to join our team. Thank you.

The stench of death hung in the air, Mike’s black ooze slowly seeping into the carpet. I forced myself to stay calm, my eyes scanning the rapidly scrolling chat. 【Wait, I think this is a word game!】 【What do you mean?】 【I’ve played horror games like this before. The Boss twists your wish! That guy said he wanted to ‘expose’ the Boss, and the Boss stripped all the flesh from his bones.】 【Holy crap, so how do you beat it?】

“My story is about the room where I lived alone for the first time… Hostel Room No. 11.” She took a deep breath. “At first, everything was normal. But on the third day, I began to feel that someone was inside my room. The door would shut… then open by itself. At night, whenever I lay down to sleep, I could always see someone in the window glass — standing right behind me.” Some students blinked, afraid to look away. Neha’s voice lowered. “I thought it was just my imagination. But every night, at the exact same time — 2:33 a.m. —

a woman dressed as a nun asked. "That's right. You're dead. Your souls were dragged into this death game." Brad shrugged. "But don't lose hope. If you clear the game, you get to live again." The screaming and shouting stopped. All eyes turned to them, filled with a new sense of hope. "To be resurrected, you need to collect 'Redemption Points.' 9,999 of them, to be exact," Jessica continued. "But here's the catch: the points you get are tied to your fear. The more terrified you are, the fewer points you get."

“Okay… uh… Unicorn! Yes, unicorn.” That's not even a real guess. The brat isn't even trying. “Ice… fucking… cold.” He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Okay… then what else can be silver or white… uh… yes!” She snaps her fingers. “A white rat!” His eyes roll unamused. “You’re ruining a perfectly good game.” “You see? I was right. A white rat!” “They have red eyes.” Dorian looks down at his fingernails now.

And now, they’re mine. I take a moment to breathe. The silence in the room is heavy, but I know I can’t afford to get lost in it. Not now. The computer terminal is still functional. I plug into the network, accessing the regular internet, the Dark Web, and the Deep Web. Control’s encrypted systems come online, and I scan for any new information. The screen flickers for a moment, then a report catches my eye. “Dust Bowl, Arizona: Reports of paranormal activity spike again. A second Hellgate breach suspected.”

I couldn’t make out the building’s details or the faces of the people around me, just vague human shapes. Somewhere nearby, a timid girl started crying. “W-Where are we? I want to go home.” A guy with yellow-dyed hair shouted impatiently, “What the hell is this? Let me out!” Then a man and a woman stepped forward, looking calmer than the rest. They introduced themselves as veteran players—Elaine and Jethro—and kindly explained what was going on. We were inside an infinite horror game. Everyone here was already dead. If we could survive every scenario and collect the legendary 9,999 points, we’d be revived.

he said, and suddenly the air felt strange. Everyone around me started whispering, turning to each other with wide eyes and open mouths. I froze. The Mate Games. I’ve heard stories, like everyone else. Old tales. Fables meant for children. Girls pulled from villages to compete for the hand of a royal heir. Magic and power and fate all tangled into one big, unbelievable mess. But that’s all they were. Stories. Until now. “They say the heir has the rarest kind of wolf,” a woman beside me whispered to her friend. “Unbound. Untouched by bond. Free.”

By 07:00, the ambient warmth of the bedroom had vanished, replaced by the clinical blue glow of three separate holographic monitors floating over the marble kitchen island. I sat on a high stool, wrapped in one of Malakai’s dark gray linen shirts. It swirled large on my frame, smelling heavily of him—cedar, rain, and the faint, bitter hint of tobacco. My fingers raced across a slim, encrypted terminal, linking the Vesper protocols into Zero’s remote proxy network.