Shiro Deadman Novels & Stories

And the only reason she knew that was because she watched that animation. This, however, was different, when Toph attacks, her opponents are still alive after each hit, but not in this case. Several sharp edges of rocks were created, and bodies were actually hagging from them. It looked like Vlad the Impaler's front yard, but this was not the heads of his enemies it was the actual bodies. The ground absorbs the blood flowing out from their hanging bodies. Serena’s inside was quaking with fear as the understanding of his nickname “Death” took a whole different meaning. He was Death, and from the looks of the bodies impaled on those rock stakes, he earned it.

It tries to send the memory through her knees, her hands, her throat. Maya lets it arrive. Then she steps left. The dead follow sound and motion. They do not think. They do not plan. They do not fake low and attack high. They are patient appetite in a ruined suit. “Behind?” she whispers. Clear within twenty feet, LUS says. “Lovely.” The dead man reaches. Maya lets him commit, shifts inside the arc, hooks her foot behind his ankle, and drives the crowbar hard into the side of his knee.

“What are you?” the sheriff asked, his voice trembling with terror. He couldn't fathom whether the being before him was a man or a monstrous creature responsible for the trail of death. The only discernible features were the two piercing, glowing red eyes that stared back at him. Drawing closer, Damian's eyes intensified, emitting an eerie and unsettling light. “Death,” he replied with a chilling certainty, effortlessly lifting Sheriff Jenkins from the ground and forcefully slamming him against the wall. The sheriff could feel the sheer strength and menace emanating from his attacker.

asked the middle-aged man, suddenly sounding mysterious. “Isn’t it just a corpse? What’s so special about it?” Ugo pretended to be indifferent about it. The middle-aged man continued, “Not exactly… his name was Dark Shura. “When he was alive, that man was as evil as a demon. He died a very tragic death. Not only was his body burnt, but even his eyes burst. You have no idea how creepy that thing looked.

This woman should be on mood stabilizers. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the reigning champ,” says a familiar Kiwi accent that I absolutely loathe. “Whiro. Still alive I see,” I say in a bored greeting. “I’m a hard man to kill. Plus, I couldn’t die before stealing your title,” he says smugly. Whiro is a proud Māori assassin who named himself after the Māori God of all evil. Not sure this is the best way to show cultural pride, but that’s not my business. He is the most arrogant son of a bitch I’ve ever met – well one of them – and somehow he has survived the last dozen Tournaments, though he’s hated me more and more the last three years for beating him.

I wheezed, blood spraying over my father’s perfect suit, "and the Morgan line is the mind... then the circuit needs a bridge." "Stop!" David lunged for me. I ripped the hardware out. Wires and flesh tore away in a jagged mess. The violet light in the room flickered. The psychic link screamed—a three-billion-soul shriek that shattered every screen in the vault. "I'm the bridge," I rasped. "And I'm burning." I slammed the bloody hardware into the DNA scanner. "System override," I roared. "User: Deadman." The vault rumbled. The obsidian walls began to crack. The nanite mist turned red.

"Kid, who's the earthbound immortal outside?" Chad quickly replied, "It's Hansen Kara from Karamon." Meran looked puzzled and asked, "What's he here for?" Chad hurriedly explained, "Someone named Landry Wilt wants to use a Dead Man's Piece in exchange for the opportunity to become an immortal ghost!" Meran got up when he heard that. His deep red robes fluttered, and the sinister aura of his body was terrifying. "A Dead Man's Piece is like a badge of the underworld! He has worn it for two years and has less than a hundred days left to live—"

He paused deliberately, his eyes flickering ever so subtly in my direction. The room fell deathly silent. Everyone waited, holding their breath for the final pronouncement. "Murder." The word hit like a thunderclap, echoing in the shocked silence. Chaos erupted once more, the noise from the reporters deafening, while online, the live stream chat exploded with comments: "Sabrina is dead!?" "No way! How is this possible?!" "Murder? What is he saying? That Arianna and Charles killed her?" "OMG, this is wild!"

combined with Cytus had put him a little on edge. Shiva stepped forward and put two of his four arms on the back of his head. He had blue skin and stood seven feet tall. He had long black matted hair, and was only wearing a pair of torn yellow salwars. He was muscular, with all four of his arms showing great strength. "I believe a name like "Death" has to be earned. I respect your strength, but think you should have to prove yourself every now and again." Shiva laughed. Death's anger was brought to its boiling point. Black smoke covered his face and his words echoed with strength.

"Don't... Elowen... don't do it." ​"He’s dying, Elowen," Silas whispered, the needle inches from my throat. "And if he dies here, in the First Life, he never becomes your Shield. He never saves you. He just becomes another body in the furnace." ​The countdown on the monitor hit 01:00. ​The girl on the table began to moan. Her fingers twitched. The violet light began to leak from her closed eyelids, a raw, unstable version of the power I carried.