Scythe Death Novels & Stories

Grip tilted his head on the side like a gangster. He slowly walked toward the demon while dragging his scythe against the reinforced concrete floor. He was holding the scythe lightly but it encraved a deep line on the concrete. He swung his scythe forward and jumped in the air. He vanished and reappeared in front of the last head on the right. He disappeared again and showed up behind her landing on his feet. I waited. “Nothing happened, fool!” She laughed not until one of her ears dropped on the ground and turned to ashes.

Balanced on one foot, Mathin withdrew his own gun and stood ready to aid should Scy need it. He didn’t. As relentless as death and hurricane-swift, he wove a dizzying light show around the were-beast that was every bit as skilled as Mathin’s. Fireworks exploded from their dueling blades, then the were-beast staggered. Scy’s blade leapt forward and impaled itself deep within the monster. Without a trace of remorse, Scy held it there until it had sizzled a black hole within the body cavity, burning away lungs and organs. The stink of burning hair and charred meat filled the air, and the were-beast’s eyes dimmed, then finally went dark. He was dead.

“Oh well. At least I get the pleasure of killing you. But only after you’ve watched everyone you love, everyone you hold dear, die.” Not Skye, I thought, relieved that he wasn’t here. Skye would go on without me. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he smirked. “Skye will die, too.” I frowned at him, even as my heart pushed up into my throat, thundering and trembling with fear. Not Skye. I couldn’t let myself think of it – couldn’t let myself imagine it. “How–?” I asked, but Cythraul cut me off, like an excited child, desperate to share his knowledge, to show that he knew more than I did.

"Of course. You're in my realm after all." "Well if I'm in your realm then can't you kill me now?" I asked. "I'd love to but my dear scythe doesn't seem to want to obey me." Out of curiosity, I asked, "Can I see your scythe now?" "Are you senile? If I let you see my scythe, you absolutely have to die." I countered, "I actually do think I'm senile sometimes. I have weird dreams and think of weird things; I've even met the grim reaper a few times. I think I'm way past senile, don't you think?"

he said and I remembered everything that happened, how Cyrus died and how I had passed out while trying to bring him back to life. “How is Cyrus, is he alive” “What are you talking about Scarlet,” he asked as he handed the cup of coffee to me. I took the cup of coffee from him “Cyrus died yesterday, he was stabbed. Tanya and I tried to revive him with the blood moon flower. Vincent laughed lightly “are you seeing visions now” he touched my head “Cyrus didn’t die and he is too powerful to be killed by a stab” “It was because he was weak, he lost most of his energy”

Wearing a blue dress, her delicate features resembled Thea’s. The moment she walked over to Sophie, she noticed the bizarrely-shaped scythe in front of Sophie. For some reason, she could feel a sense of familiarity with the scythe. Upon being reminded of the scythe within her body, her mind stirred, and a scythe materialized before her. Immediately, the it flew forward and blocked the bizarrely-shaped scythe that intended to deal Sophie the killing blow.

A massive, towering presence looming over my shoulder. I glance back. A cloaked figure, three meters tall, floating in the void. In its skeletal hand, it holds a massive scythe that drips with phantom blood. The God of Death. The robotic voice returns. [AWAKENING CONFIRMED. SUBJECT: REA REED. RESULT: 100% PURITY. ENTITY IDENTIFIED: THANATOS (THE GOD OF DEATH). ALIGNMENT: CHAOTIC EVIL.] The numbers flash on the screen in blood-red. One hundred percent. The legendary Single Bloodline.

Also, I was curious to see how Philip and Brenda would react when they found out the person they had skinned and cut up to pieces was me. Brenda picked up on something more to Layla's words. She grabbed her wrists. "Layla, what are you talking about?" There was not a hint of regret on Layla's face. "That useless wench won't come back anymore. She's been buried in that sculpture since the beginning." "You're saying… That person was Hazel?" Brenda subconsciously took a few steps backward. On the other hand, Philip covered his mouth and stood frozen to the spot. He must have recalled that the skeleton was missing the bones of three fingers. He had spent a lot of time creating the missing parts

So he had to die with my strength. "Albus Wesley, son of Alejandro Wesley. As one of the angels of death. I am reaping your soul, today. You may now perish in the hellish fire of hell." When my hand finally caught fire Wesley was screaming in pain. And as it finally disappeared his body sank to the floor due to my heavy presence and determination. I have to get to hell, this is my only way to know the truth. Things that creatures in the ministry of death cannot say.

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.