Re Zero Starting Novels & Stories

"If I die, don't hold a funeral for me. Cremate me and scatter my ashes into the sea. I want… to be free to go anywhere I want." Blake's voice shook. "Anna…" "Promise me." "…I promise." I laughed. "Thank you." The countdown hit zero. In my head, the system notification sounded. "Strategy failed. Erasure protocol initiated." I closed my eyes and waited for the end. But then… nothing happened. I opened my eyes again and stared out at the sea. Out on the water, the sun was slowly rising over the horizon. Golden light spilled across the surface of the sea, so beautiful that it stole my breath.

No wonder I had given up entirely and walked away. He could not bring himself to go home. He was afraid that the moment he stepped inside, he would see me on that stretcher again, covered in blood. Every corner of that house was soaked in guilt. He sat alone at a bar and drank until he could not see straight. Meanwhile, I had landed overseas with my son Adam and immediately contacted a lawyer. I transferred the shares that Jasper's grandfather had left in trust to my own name and hired a nanny and a nutritionist for Adam.

Chapter 16 Hannah's POV The shift from the high-stakes tension of the conference room to the quiet hum of my new workspace was a relief I hadn't expected. I needed to breathe, and I needed to survive. ​Mateo didn't ask for a war. When I walked into his office to finalize the paperwork, there were no maps of Luke’s weaknesses or plans to leak island footage. Instead, there was a clean desk and a stack of creative briefs for an international travel campaign.

He didn’t deserve my forgiveness, not anymore. “Are we ready?” Justin asked, his voice bright with energy. A chorus of cheers and echoes rang through the room, everyone eager, motivated, ready to take on the morning. “Good,” he continued, “now let’s start counting those steps.” He led us out of the building and onto the open road, where the cool morning air carried a faint freshness. The group surged forward, feet hitting the pavement in rhythm.

This time I would finish him. "Shaurya Agnihotri starts counting your days in reverse manner. I am coming." The room heard my growling and frustration with my utmost hateful statement.

No one was more stunned than Gloria. "You mean that Adrian Ainsworth?" she blurted. "The one on Forbes' global top ten? He's really back in Carmoria?"

Jackson-crow spoke. His golden eyes were no longer glowing; they were two hollow pits of Absolute Zero. He wasn't perched on a branch anymore; he was fading into the white-noise, his form becoming a series of grey vectors. "This isn't a funeral for a person. It’s a Funeral for the Prototype. The High Council has decided that the 'First Day' was a failure because it allowed for 'Too Much' energy. They are here to Restart the Server". In the center of the platform sat a coffin made of Solidified Starlight. Inside was not a corpse, but a Sphere of Pure Potential—the heart of the Zero Cycle. Standing over the coffin was the Architect.

Her tactical armor was unbuckled at the shoulders, letting the warm, salt-tinged air hit her scarred skin. "They're confused," Thorne answered, adjusting a copper dial. "The primary initialization pulse from the valley didn't just knock out the corporate security grids; it cleared every regional debt registry along the coast. The local digital markets; the ones that had been trying to stabilize using the Swiss relays just experienced a total settlement. Every account has been balanced back to zero under the authority of 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗟𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗿.

Then he heard a voice. Not Genesis. Not Vale. Not the source. Richard. Inside his mind. Ethan. I'm still here. Ethan closed his eyes. Where? Inside you. A sudden surge of light exploded through the room. The source reacted. The machine shattered. And every screen displayed the same message. SUBJECT ZERO HAS CHOSEN. Ethan opened his eyes. The countdown disappeared. For the first time since Genesis awakened, the timer stopped. Then a new message appeared. PHASE TWO CANNOT BEGIN WITHOUT SUBJECT ZERO.

I've just gotten back from a business trip when my wife, Lisa Irwin, steps onto the windowsill. She looks at me, tears streaming down her face, and whispers, "I'm so sorry, honey." Then she jumps in front of me. Our three-month-old daughter, Ariah Conner, lies silent in her crib. She's not breathing, and her skin has turned a deep purple. Beside her, our nanny, Aunt Caitlin, lies unconscious with blood pooling from a head wound. The police tell me Lisa was sexually assaulted before she died, and Ariah suffocated. The security cameras were down. There was no sign of forced entry. In a single day, my whole world shatters. Every clue points to a phantom who doesn't exist. I spend five