Sans Death Mga Nobela at Kwento

You have no right to be alive! @Death Wish

I could not even remember how. At the very least, I should thank him for serving as our first lab rat and providing such valuable data. … That night, the hospital informed me that he had killed himself shortly after I left by drinking a bottle of sanitizer. They pronounced him dead soon after. I gave a noncommittal "mm-hmm" and told the hospital to handle the body. His funeral was simple: no ceremony, no pomp, no ritual, not even a single guest. I watched as they lowered him into the grave.

Hear them calling from their nevermore land Walking dead souls, lost in regret and deceit Just much and more and faithless The ultimate deal with the devil Trade your dreams, befriend your death Obey the ancient command Earn! Our worst fear Sole legacy to all our unborn children. But still Believe, dare, own your steps Fight! Yet, always, again To keep feeling, loving, trusting To stay alive. “Okay,” he muttered. Once again, not what he expected, considering what she’d been through. But he liked it. He would’ve lingered on the bed as he was, but he didn’t want to cause her a heart attack, so his inner bastard agreed to play Mother Theresa for a while and let him get dressed.

We are making a special trip to Club Enigma to see a band called Revolution of Death. What’s so special about that? For starters Revolution of Death is an all-supernatural band that plays some eccentric shit ranging from jazz to punk. David turned Sage and me on to them a while back. Sage is into their sound and excited to see them live. Now for the part that makes visiting this band more exciting for me.

Maybe even…dead. ***

Samson inhaled sharply and eyed him strangely. "I did it as a show of my love for him, unfortunately he destroyed that by doing what he did," he mumbled softly. I eyed them both in utter confusion. Samson saw and sighed. "When lower demon documents are destroyed the demon no longer exists and won't regenerate in hell, so Dane's gone forever now," he explained and I looked at Mortas sadly. "We need to lock Samson's documents up in a fireproof safe immediately," I mumble frantically. Mortas jumped out of bed and looked at us both.

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."

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie