Scythe Death Novels & Stories

No one would suspect you and they would usually talk and act recklessly in front of you. “The weapon,” It was a scythe. A retractable scythe that could tear heavy metals like paper and pierce through anything even the soul. Using it, they can open treasures long-buried and kill anyone like nobody's business. It's a precious little thing. And it's in the rightful and very capable hands. Me. •••

My blows were so strong, vicious, and fierce that I could feel blood splashing on my face as my sword came into contact with their bodies, cutting them into two. Besides me, I saw the processor thrusting a gagged rock into the hearts of two soldiers who were trying to attack me from behind. I wheeled back in the same motion, then cut their heads with my sword. A loud yelling caught my attention. I spun back and saw three soldiers running towards me. "Soul killer Smith!" I yell involuntarily. I don't know how it happened, but the name just crossed my mind, and I suspected that it was the work of the soul nectar. Something like a luminary appears out of nowhere and covers the three soldiers at

"Everyone, all in! Take his head for White Wolf!" The crowd attacked in unison, either using their fists and feet, or wielding machetes and iron bars, charging toward Blood Sickle's head. "You want to kill me? In your dreams!" Blood Sickle laughed coldly as a sickle-shaped weapon appeared in his hand without anyone's notice. It was the Scythe of Death. Countless people had died under this scythe, which was why he was called Blood Sickle.

If it came down to a true fight to the death, he was almost certain he would not lose to Thorgan. Scarlett lowered her gaze and asked softly, "Cyrus, you killed so many people. Aren't you afraid you'll be held accountable someday? Killing is still illegal." Her voice lacked strength, but the doubt beneath it was clear. Before today, Scarlett had believed the Frostfall would not last. She believed there was no real apocalypse, that the world would return to normal, and that she would go back to being a shining star. Tonight, after watching more than 100 people die in front of her, that belief fractured.

Then Scarlet looked back at Sage. His eyes were open but there was no fear in them. He had turned to stone gazing upon Scarlet, and the look in his eyes could only be described as love. Locked in his stone hand was the vial of immortality potion, the stopper still in place, not a drop drunk. Realizing it was all over, Scarlet crumpled forward and wept into her crossed arms. Sage was dead.

I read the date and the authorization line and the signature that ties Don Tobia Armenise to the death of his own nephew, and I close the ledger and hold it against my chest and I breathe. The courtyard behind me is reorganizing around a brother bleeding on the gravel and a sedan still idling at the gate. I hear voices, sharp and urgent, and I hear the Fiat's door open and I hear Enzo's voice, thin and strained, saying something I cannot make out. He is alive. The shot was clean and he is alive and I am in the chapel with the ledger in my hands and the proof of everything Don Tobia has done pressed against my ribs.

Friends at the top saw this and were going to come help. "But I was too weak... my grip began to slip and before I knew it, she holding on by finger tips. She begged me not to let go. I tried to use my other hand to get a better grip. My other hand was sweatier and so she slipped. The fall killed her instantly." Ashleigh closed her eyes at the thought. She opened them again and looked at the man beside her. "I'm sorry," she said. Richard looked at her with a small smile, "It's alright." He looked his hands and let out a sigh. He then asked, "Wait... what are you doing here?"

Castor shouts at Sathariel in a rage. I casually pick up a knife from the table and throw it at Castor, aiming for his ankle and perfectly hitting my target. He drops to the ground, crying out in pain as he clutches his ankle, pulling out the knife and tossing it as blood spurts across the floor. “Fucking bitch!” “Aww, and I thought you used to like fucking this bitch,” I pout. “I watched you kill Scythe,” says Sathariel, pulling my attention back to him as Castor’s groans of pain become nothing more than background ambiance. “I checked him myself,” Sathariel argues, completely oblivious to Castors distress. “Yeah… about that,” I say with a Cheshire cat smile.

0064: The New Nightingale 0065: SIDE STORY PART ONE 0066: SIDE STORY PART TWO _______ Arc 3: Reaper's Scythe Is A Scissor?! Update: Ongoing "Yow! Sinful soul, how about you behave for a little while for my scythe to bring you to the underworld peacefully?" I grinned as I took out my grim kiddie size scissors with the host's favourite cartoon character. The soul I encountered was flabbergasted at first but then started to laugh after, "Pft! You call that a scythe? What? You gonna rip my soul or cut my hair instead?! I bet that's safety scissors only enough to cut a paper! Hahaha!"

LUCAS OR SOPHIA OR WHO WOULD YOU SACRIFICE? (2105) *Twenty people have been recorded dead since the attack of some unknown creature led by a masked man now known as the Scourge . The survivors announced the presence of an opposite gr--* "Turn it off", The Scourge screamed. "Twenty people is an embarrassing kill compared to the amount of followers I lost and it is all that Professor's fault!" He broke the cup in his hands.