Ruin A Novel Novels & Stories

The morning sun filtered through the high, narrow windows of the architecture studio, cutting through the dust motes like golden scalpels. It had been three hours since the janitor had unlocked the archives, and the transition from the intimacy of the dark basement to the cold reality of the studio had been jarring.

He grabbed my wrist tightly, “You can’t start a new relationship on a whim! Come with me!” Godden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching our shadows across the floor. I pinned his hand down, trying to break free from his crushing grip. I stared at him with a terrifying calmness, “Vittorio, you are always so confident. But, how come you don't get that my heart was broken into a million pieces? It will never be fixed. Not ever.”

"Even if I were close to death, I wouldn't need you to save me." The door slammed shut, and the last sliver of light vanished. Someone had set the air conditioning to an icy chill. I felt as if frost was forming on my skin. My hands were slowly going numb, and with that numbness, a cold realization settled in my chest. As a doctor, I knew without doubt that my hands were ruined. As for Galen's life, there was no one left in the world who could save him. Just as the cold and hunger threatened to crush me, the basement door burst open.

Jason followed him and glanced back once with an apologetic smile while the cold girl named Alyssa stared at Noah for a bit before taking her leave too. Noah, on the other hand, frowned. He didn't know what the man was talking about. To his knowledge, Ruins were sort of like inheritance grounds where a high level Battlesoul master once lived while they were alive. The things found could be weapons, Elixirs, resources or battle techniques. He didn't think that his three-day absence would cost him some valuable intel.

Pregnant and alone, his mother had carried him through war sirens and famine winters. He didn’t need to know whether it was a bomb or a god that broke the world. He already had someone to blame. Every day in the Ruins was a grind. You woke up hungry, dodged gangs, filtered dirty water through charcoal, and prayed that your cough wasn’t something worse. There were whispers of diseases, airborne, mutating, deadly. People just... faded. The lucky ones died in their sleep. But not Tunde. He had his music — an old solar-powered recorder, a secondhand guitar missing two strings, and his voice. His voice was everything.

Sharp talons raked across my arm, tearing open three bloody gashes. "Ah—" I cried out as blood dripped from my arm to the floorboards. Damien had completely lost it. He’d never laid a hand on me like that in our past life. It seemed his madness was worse this time around. Good. The crazier he is, the harder he’ll fall. "I'm sorry!" I choked back the pain, faking terror as tears streamed down my face. "I'll take you to Moonridge now! Please, just don't hurt me!"

"I'm so sorry." Because I'd failed already, and I had no idea how to fix this. No idea how to survive this. I just knew that Damien Cross had broken me. And I didn't know if I'd ever be whole again.

The city wasn’t merely ruined; it was actively reclaiming itself, nature’s relentless tide eroding the remnants of a once-proud civilization. Their first challenge wasn’t a monstrous guardian or a magical trap, but the sheer density of the ruins. Buildings had collapsed into each other, creating a labyrinthine network of passageways and chambers, each one more perilous than the last. The trackers, their eyes keen and their senses sharp, led the way, navigating the treacherous terrain with practiced ease. Ronan, his mind already racing, began to map their progress, his notes scribbled on scraps of parchment, forming a rudimentary map of their journey through this lost world.

"Oh, you're yelling at me? What exactly do you have that compares to Myra? All these years, she handled everything, and I just had to sign papers. I never had to lift a damn finger!" The two of them tore into each other without holding anything back. But no amount of screaming could fix the company's collapse. Soon after, Alan's company fell apart completely. To cover the financial losses, the court forced them out of the villa Alan and I once lived in together. It had to be auctioned off. And even with their lives falling to pieces, neither of them chose to actually work or rebuild. Instead, to maintain the lifestyle they were used to, they turned to gambling. It didn't take long for them t

WELLINGTON'S POV I start to lower my weapon slowly, the heavy metal feeling like lead in my trembling hands as I raise one hand up in surrender, my palm open and exposed while I keep my eyes locked on her the entire time, searching desperately for any sign of the ally I thought I had. It's my fault for always trusting so easily even after facing all the disappointments and witnessing what trust costs people, the kind of painful price that leaves scars deeper than any blade could carve into flesh.