Steins Gate Novels & Stories

It was less of a home and more of a mausoleum for the living, all sharp angles and imposing parapets. "Kai, the gate!" I screamed as a wall of steel spikes rushed toward us. Kai didn't flinch. He didn't lift his foot from the accelerator. "Hold on!" A laser scanner swept across the front of the vehicle. A split second before we impacted, the ten-foot-tall steel gates groaned and retracted into the rock walls. We blew through the opening at nearly a hundred miles an hour, tires squealing on the polished cobblestones of the courtyard.

Greaves said while closing his folder. He looked at me the way he always did before negotiations began. It was the silent request for control that had followed me through four years of assignments with him. Please hold yourself together. Cold air drifted through the open door carrying the scent of pine and something deeper beneath it, something warm and unfamiliar that caused the strange pressure in my chest to lean toward it before I could stop the reaction. The gates came into view. They were iron and ancient, set into stone that curved along the ridge as though the mountain itself had grown around them. Wolves had been forged into the arch above the entrance, their bodies frozen mid strid

Blake pushed the door open, and the smell hit first—beer, smoke, leather, sweat. The room inside was alive, buzzing with energy that bordered on chaos. Men in leather vests leaned against the bar, tattoos crawling up their arms. Laughter spilled loud and raw. Women draped themselves over laps, swaying to music that rattled the floor. Eyes turned when Blake stepped inside. Conversations faltered. A hush rippled through the room like a shift in the air. Then the voices picked up again, but I could feel the weight of their stares. My skin burned under them.

Behind us, the plaza moaned—distant drones dragging themselves out of rubble, sirens wailing in a broken loop, the ever-present hum of the dying city. Beside me, my skin still tingled where Corvin’s hands had been. My ribs ached under the fresh bandage. His warmth felt like an echo in the narrow doorway we’d just left. The almost-kiss clung to the back of my mind, unhelpfully vivid. “Okay,” Jax said, drawing in a breath. “So. Talking doors. That’s new. Does anyone have the cheat code?” “There’s no code,” Grant said grimly. “They mean it. You don’t get in unless the Gate’s fed.”

Another woman clutched her child closer as they passed, her gaze fixed sharply on me. We kept walking, deeper and deeper past the murmuring crowd until the path opened up into something much larger than I expected. My breath hitched. Before us stretched a massive gate—iron bars twisted with ancient carvings of moons and wolves, so tall it seemed to scrape the sky. The walls around it were built of stone older than time itself, and the earth beneath my boots vibrated faintly, as if even the land knew this was sacred ground. Two guards stood at either side of the gate. They weren’t just big—they looked terrifying. Their broad shoulders and stone-hard faces made me wonder if they were carved fr

The stench of burned metal and wet dust hung hard in the air when I reached the foot of the rock. Kael was completely free from the gigantic, sloping steel gates of Bunker Beta. His vast presence seemed like the massive mountain massif in the background an ancient war god who returned to his domain. I went to his side, the fine ash sand crawled under my boots. The heavy gates were divided with an ear-powdering ark, but they opened only a few meters far – the hinges were through the months

Ashley sprinted across the yard, boots splashing through mud, rain dripping from her hair. Ace shouted updates into her earpiece. “Movement on the east side! Four trucks—no plates. Heat signatures are climbing.” “How many?” she panted. “Too damn many,” Ace snapped. Jax’s voice came through next. “Positions! They are breaching the outer gate!” Ashley slid behind a stack of boxes and crouched. The entire compound vibrated as something heavy slammed against the front gate.

But tell me, what do you know about the entrance to Gormley-Stuarts palatial gaff? 'It’s palatial - drive is 120 metres long and has eight centimetres of French rounded granite pebbles on it, with an electric gate that is activated by some radio-controlled device in her car.' He drew breath to continue. 'Whoa Charley. How do you know so much?' 'Larissa regularly bullies Vera into lending her labour to smooth her pebbles or paint the gate. I’ve done both this year.' 'How many cars do they have?'

Speaking of wild animals, she’s thankful that she hasn’t crossed one. Sierra found the gate not too far away from where she came from. The gate is made of steel and is as tall as the wall. It is thick and there’s a weird carvings. Above the gate there’s a word written in italic, it said 'Stonehenge'. “Hello? Excuse me!” she tried to look for a guard but none answered. “No one will show themselves to you,” said the late guardian of fire. “See that black gem in the middle?”

It was a scar on the face of the dead world, but a scar that was healing, turning into something new. The main gate of Birkin Shelter was a formidable structure, a reinforced wall of shipping containers and scrap metal, topped with barbed wire and punctuated by two guarded watchtowers. As the blue sedan approached, a figure waved from the left tower, and the heavy, makeshift gate, mounted on shrieking metal rollers, began to grind open just wide enough for the vehicle to pass through.