Regular Show Gamers Never Say Die Novels & Stories

he look away, unable to explain himself. She glare. “If you don't want to play it, the don't! You dob't have to confuse people like myself!” He stunned, glance at her who the system called Player 9.9B. He didn't actually expect her to say such a thing. He forgot... He shouldn't have carried away. Yet he can't help it. “It's okay to you?” His hands form a fist. “It's okay to have this game where people-” He hardly remembering what happen to those players bathing their own blood, unidentified by the gruesome and gore.

"Possibly not, but ours has never been a typical father and son relationship." “I understand what you mean, but I suggest the time’s come for you to bury your differences and stop butting heads. All he needs is your concern.” "I'm not here right now, if I don't care." "Would you die if you told him that?" An accented sound released him from the suppressed laughter. "No, but he might be shocked when he hears me say that and could be the cause of his death."

A sharp cracking sound echoed in the deathly silent room. The Soul Stone… was broken! A broken Soul Stone meant the deceased's spirit couldn't find peace. For werewolves, this was a terrible disrespect, a disaster. The room instantly fell into dead silence. Everyone froze. Especially Ryker. He stared at the "Soul Stone" on the floor, now in pieces. The anger and cruelty on his face instantly froze. Disbelief. He stood there, stunned, his lips trembling slightly as he mumbled to himself: "This… this is impossible… Absolutely impossible! Brynn… Brynn clearly investigated. She said your mother was faking her illness… How could she have a 'Soul Stone'… And… and how could it break?"

I tap and start recording. “Messing around in a deadly game, I don’t know how much I have left…” My voice is frail. “… But if I die, love killed me.”

Kit was speechless and soon began to curse. "Are you guys all useless? Five people were killed by one guy. How can I consider you trash teammates!" Windfall complained, "Brother Laughing Flame, it's not that we're useless; it's just that this guy is too weird. His damage is terrifying. None of us could withstand two of his strikes." "You're making it up. How could there be such an absurd thing? The game has only been officially released for a few days. Is there already an expert at the Foundation Establishment? Damn!"

She looked down at me from above, all the tenderness in her eyes completely drained away. "And now you're giving me attitude over a ring?" I lifted my head to look at her, my eyes red-rimmed. "Emma, is it really so hard to love just one person?" She furrowed her brows irritably. "What did I do? Is cheating against the law? Which law says cheating is illegal? Vince, stop being so dramatic, alright?" The word "dramatic" hit me across the face like a slap. I couldn't stop my whole body from trembling.

No matter the circumstances and odds against me, I am always ready to fight until death. And let me remind you that I have slain many soldiers, knights, monsters, and beasts. Don't forget how I single-handedly killed ten vicious players. I might not know the power of the Smith or anything about the so-called nectar that General Zod and the familiar voice are requesting from me. However, I am sure of one thing. I am sure that I won't die because "Tomorrow Never Dies."

“Based on previous game records, every player died. No one has ever taken home even a single dollar.” My vision darkened. I felt despair swallowing me whole. “So he gave me three keys… just so I would open the box and let him watch me fail, then let me die even more horribly?”

"They'll broadcast me picking bogies before they'll bury me." The entire damned thing is televised, live, for every noble in their velvet chairs and every shifter hiding beyond the border to watch. A show. A bloody spectacle. My middle finger snaps up toward one of the nearest cameras as I flash my best grin. Let the cowards see what I think of them. A loudspeaker crackles. "WELCOME, CONTENDERS…TO THIS YEAR'S WILDER GAMES!"

"You're the ones who killed my son! Give him back to me…" Dad buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was crying. Calista shrank into a corner, pale as a sheet, muttering over and over, "No… That's impossible… He's just pretending… I'm sure he's just trying to scare us…" Tyler stood at the very back of the crowd. His head was lowered, his shoulders shaking slightly, looking like someone who was suppressing overwhelming grief. But I could see it clearly—hidden deep in his eyes was excitement he couldn't conceal.