Soldier X Torcher Novels & Stories

Sheila, having only seen a few photos, was not entirely certain. "Yes, it's him!" Alexander confirmed the identity, pocketing the photo. He gazed at Brody in the distance, lost in thought. Fate had finally led him to the person he sought in the vast sea of humanity. Alas, the person had become a War Puppet, and he did not know if there was any salvation left. At that moment, the War Puppet launched another attack, fearlessly charging toward Mister Xeno. "Good, come at me! Let me incapacitate you!" Mister Xeno, stronger even than a scorpion, remained undaunted.

Today, the biting mountain frost was beginning to retreat, leaving the earth soft and yielding beneath the boots of a new generation. Xander stood at the center of the field. He wore no armor, only a simple, dark canvas tunic and durable trousers. His massive frame still cast a long, imposing shadow across the plateau, and the faint, pearlescent scars of his past battles were clearly visible on his forearms. Yet, the terrifying, coiled-spring tension that had once defined his every movement was entirely absent. He stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his golden amber eyes sweeping over the forty young wolves gathered before him.

Forest C H A P T E R 3 7 H E M I L I A The sun goes down and the night sky is already here, the soldiers cheered as they clinked their glass of beers. As I smiled sheepishly, maybe a little bit intoxicated. "And you know this is how she hates me. Because of my dick again." David, the talkative dick man sat next to me again saying that he missed our talk because I wasn't grossed out by the fact he had a small dick but didn't want to admit it.

The silence of the Mercy Vault was shattered, not by an explosion, but by the horrific, rhythmic thud of thousands of boots hitting the permafrost in perfect unison. Xander stood at the mouth of the ice tunnel, his silhouette framed by the harsh, blue light of the tactical trucks. He wasn't the man I had shared bread with in the schoolhouse. The orange brand on his chest had bled upward, a lattice of glowing circuitry that seemed to have rewired his very nervous system. He stood with a rigid, military grace, his eyes no longer bloodshot, but a flat, terrifyingly clear violet.

“What is this? A new horror?” August looked around. “Strike a torch, just one and give it to me.” One of the soldiers did just that, even though his hands shook. He took the torch and motioned for them to move back into the constricted tunnel. He then raised the torch to look at the walls where the hissing sound originated.

"Come closer, sit down, and extinguish the torch." The soldiers frowned but obediently did as told. They gathered closely around him, almost cuddling together when they sat on the bare earth. To take as little space as possible because they remembered the flesh-eating tendency of the dome around them, they pulled their long legs close to their study chests until they looked akin to bloody and dirty packages - if packages were made out of muscles. Strangely, they suddenly felt as if their breath grew lighter, and exhausted sighs rang in the air. Then, with a glance at their commander, the torch-holder extinguished the fire while simultaneously wondering when the flames had become so small tha

“I’m sure you know everything about me.” “I know you’re the second son of Andre Vittorio, that you were good during your training as an enforcer.” His sharp gaze flicks to me. “You got taken by Ponti. You lost your brother, the woman you love, and your mind. At Palawan, Philippines you were a hothead.” That about sums up my life. “Tell me who you really are, Xander,” he demands. “I’m a Bratva soldier,” I answer, because that's all I can be when everything’s said and done.

Hell, my mind was already painting our gruesome ways I was going to die out here. Maybe, just maybe the wild animals would get to me first, or perhaps the cold would actually turn me into nothing but an ice statue. Just when I was giving up hope totally, I saw it. Torchlight, then the voice came next, just to be accompanied by movement I froze. I didn't mean to, but I did, and it was all thanks to the sight in front of me. They weren't Xavier's guards, nor did they belong to Xander. They didn't look like they had any ties to Helena too. These voices were different, rough, unfamiliar, and threaded with confusion rather than cruelty.

The book shimmered faintly. He didn’t speak at first, simply gestured toward it as if he wanted me to ask. But before I could utter a word, the door opened behind us. A soldier stepped in, broad-shouldered, with the kind of hardened stare that only came from years of war. His aura told me instantly: he was the commander of Xareth’s army. Xareth’s expression hardened. “Go. I will call you back,” he said curtly. I stood at once and made my exit, making sure my heeled boots struck the floor with loud, deliberate steps. Let him believe I was gone.

another soldier began, turning his rifle under his chin in a grim resolution. Bang! The gunshot ricocheted, missing the soldier’s head entirely. A scarred, wax-covered hand had intervened, knocking the barrel off target. The figure behind it was imposing, muscles tense with the bearing of authority—a Baron. Others flanked him, igniting a flamethrower that roared to life with infernal light. A sheet of flame erupted, forming a searing barricade that incinerated the moths attempting to follow. The roaring blaze illuminated the Baron’s features: it was Gazier.