Soulreaper Of Nulgath の小説・ストーリー

He nodded slowly, then laid the tile down next to the others. I looked at it. My unease grew, because it looked like a bullfrog crossed with a man. Oddly enough, it looked like . . . The creature from the Black Lagoon. “The ‘Other’ is Chiao, the Water Demon. According to legend he capsized boats, devoured men, and ravished women. He was . . . different from the Sacred Four.” I cleared my suddenly dry and tight throat. “How?” Mr. Trung tipped his head. “The Four exact a price for attempting to reach the Gateway, but they are sacred, honorable, bearing your essence away to be judged accordingly. Chiao is an Abomination. It consumes your very essence, making you part of it for all eternity.”

They all looked at me once again, a few of them were still glaring but most of them seemed to be more open to the conversation now and that gave me hope. "Okay, for the sake of everything else I have to reveal, I would appreciate you all to stay quiet. I know what I have to say is hard to accept much less understand but I assure you it's all true," I requested quietly. When no one spoke up I continued. "Now, these things are called soul-eaters and they are literally after our souls. They are collecting them for a daemon which, yes is like a demon but different. Apparently, it has nothing to do with the ultimate being of evil. They are more like a being in possession of dark Magic and this Ma

Searching for meaning--- DEATH won't separate LOVE Behind the shadows--- MONEY is not enough to buy TRUST Change is possible--- JUSTICE won't be attained if you don't know how to ACCEPT Finding God--- A foe to God was never a friend to MANKIND. Sorrow--- NO WAY, an OATH. Four souls wagered for the good, Let thy stars attest thee, Of these tainted blood, Ready to be spilled. Everything makes sense now; does the pen pertains to Jeremy GLOSS himself? But how was he involved in the Netherworld? How did he DIE again? "Hey, stop spacing out," Grey violently patted my back, that I almost fell on my seat.

said Jester, “Oberon was a genius among the Apricis. He managed to find a way to use soul magic to increase the conception rate and sustain it throughout the pregnancy. Rigel and I were the results of that.” “Soul magic?” I couldn’t help but interrupt. It was new to me. “Oh,” Jester paused, and he looked thoughtful for a moment. “I forgot; human magic works on different principles. Well, in Gaia, soul magic refers to magic that centers on the soul. All living creatures have souls—it’s what separates us from the elements of nature. Souls have two general kinds—those that have a consciousness, like animals and humans and Gaians, and those that do not, like plants. Since souls inhabit physical

That memory not only kept the favors of the Grim Reaper catalogued in Mane’s mind, it also held the aura of the one whose power was comparable to none. That aura was cold and filled with thirst. It was filled with a million screams and billions of disheartened souls. It wasn’t a surprise, for he was the Reaper. His job was to make sure that souls without a home to go to, didn’t wander the Universe, and he did this by consuming them. Initially, Mane thought that it was his silky smooth talking skills that had earned Aurora her life and Hildegarde her shield. However, what if that was all a lie? What if the Reaper had done the things he did because he needed Mane alive?

POV: Thorne, Reaper of the Council The scent of divine disruption was unmistakable. Thorne crouched atop a jagged cliff overlooking the southern forest, his cloak of shadows billowing in the windless air. The ley lines beneath him pulsed erratically, like veins clogged with prophecy. He pressed two fingers to the soil and closed his eyes. The pulse was real. The awakening had begun. He stood slowly, his armor whispering against itself—obsidian plates etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. His blade, Soulrender, hung at his back, humming with anticipation. It had tasted prophecy before. It was eager to taste it again.

"The scouts say the Reapers are dropping pods at the north and south passes. They’re trying to pin us in." Rowan stood beside Lyra, his silver-starred sword unsheathed. "These aren't mercenaries, Lyra. These are 'The Null,' special soldiers whose minds have been wiped by the Council. They don't feel pain, and they don't feel fear. They only follow the last order they were given."