Prison Of The Dead の小説・ストーリー

Suddenly, a loud voice has been heard, “Welcome everyone to the most-awaited, ‘Game of Fangs and Death’. Remember, this game is for five nights and only one among our twenty-two players will survive. The winner as a prize will be given a free pass and will be led to a secret passage, away from here, and at the end of that secret passage is the ocean where one of the submarines of the Alpha Pharoah is being docked and waiting for him.” Fiel was stunned as he heard the announcement. “Game of Fangs and Death… Alpha Pharoah? What kind of place or the world I have been thrown from that oubliette?” he thought hastily. His life has been a total mess since the day that he was accused of raping and k

He muttered and I rolled my eyes back to them. “So Noone is Going to fess up, right?” I asked again but they all seemed Reluctant. “Fine, Two weeks in Death's Cage for all of you!” I said and their eyes widened as they began crying Wildly. “What is death's cage?” Elaine asked. “It's a cage filled with different animals who has been hypnotized not to attack themselves but only humans who were thrown in, it's our torture zone!” Alistair answered her before facing me while I stared intensely at them all.

As my team began the silent trek towards the foreboding shadow of the Deadwood Forest, Kael fell into step beside me. “Ready?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “No,” I answered truthfully. “You?” “Not even a little.” We shared a brief, grim smile. Then all expression fell away, replaced by the hunter’s focus. The Deadwood Facility loomed ahead as the first true light of dawn bled into the sky. It was a monstrosity—a converted mine shaft fortified with black iron and crawling with the psychic residue of dark magic. Fifty guards, at least, patrolled its perimeter. And deep within its belly, two hundred prisoners waited, along with horrors Mara could only hint at.

“This is getting messy.” “I want to see them,” I say. Sevrin hesitates. Then nods. He walks to the iron door and unlocks it. It creaks open. We step inside. And freeze. The prisoners are slumped against the walls. Heads twisted at unnatural angles. Eyes open but Lifeless as Blood pooled beneath them. Every single one of them is dead. My stomach lurches. I cover my mouth. Hector slowly turns to me. His eyes are dark.

“We are going to get some ice cream and we are going to get home and find out how to save Justin because he's alive in there.” “He's fucking dead.” Janeka roared, pulling away from her. Earnestine struggled with her before they were able to get her into the car. Emptiness is what I met there. I opened my eyes to see the darkness called the unbinding. The prison was created for the tyrant Edmond Michael. I'm surprised that what they think is not what I see. Justin thought as he got up. He couldn't believe that he was alive. Was this the end or would he go through some eternal torture?

There's no pulse, he's dead. I open his mouth, and just like I fear, I smell the poison on his breath. Triggered when he clenched his teeth, it must have been hidden in a tooth capsule. To my right , I can hear the other prisoners start to laugh too. My calm shatters, my breath hitches as the realisation clocks into place. These are not just professionals, they're men willing to die without hesitation for a cause I still do not understand.

Out in the yard, three dead rogues are sprawled across the wild grass, fur matted in spirals of black, their gaping mouths luminous with pale foam. Donovan drags one into the house, still breathing but only just, and locks him in the root cellar. For a week, the pack takes turns watching the prisoner, hoping for intel, but he refuses food, shifting in and out of wolf shape until his bones all but liquefy. On the fifth night, Derick—of all the three—pushes past the guard, sits at the bars, and sings a note-perfect imitation of the old crone’s death song. The rogue throws himself against the iron, tongue lolling, and dies grinning.

They pumped me full of drugs that twisted reality, convincing me I was given a second chance at life. However, then, squinting at the tiny date on the digital screen by the security camera, the truth hit me hard. It was not a second chance; it was a con, elaborate and cruel. Justice did not go easy on them. Chester got life for murder, insurance scams, and a laundry list of other charges. My mother-in-law, the brains of the operation, got the same fate. Jane, tangled up in the murder and faking medical records, also got a life sentence.

Killian didn't finish as though the weight of repercussion couldn't be pronounced with words. And the prisoners knew better. Breathes caught. Collective. low. Then it happened once. One thousand dangerous prisoners crumbled to their knees. Heads bowed to the floor, their voice chorusing, "We won't cause trouble, King Killian! We will always obey your rules." The warden gasped, the officers stiffened at the back. What they just witnessed wasn’t forced compliance— it was absolute submission. Killian Dante's name didn't just carry fear across Deadmoo due to his extraordinary fighting skill but also because he could resurrect the dead which was why he was given the name— THE MIRACLE HAND.