Stick War Empires Novels & Stories

It came out mockingly. He held my gaze for a brief second, then said out of nowhere, " I'm dead hungry, ain't you?" "Me too. It's as if I haven't had anything to eat since forever." I admitted. As if to confirm my statement, my stomach bellowed loudly. Embarrassed, I turned away from him. As I turned back to face him, I saw he was struggling miserably not to laugh at me. I gave him the 'oh shut up' look while biting down my smile.

It would be answered by behavior. By who moved first. By who tried to seize control. And by who chose to wait. As Nathaniel stood at the window one last time before sleep, he felt no urge to intervene. This was not a crisis. It was a reckoning. And the empires he had inherited were about to reveal whether they could survive without being dominated. The fall, he understood now, would not be dramatic. It would be quiet. Marked not by collapse, but by choice. And that choice was already underway.

For that, Adam and David were very careful and vigilant. The handshake between David and Jack is a sign that the transaction has ended. Adam's hand was too precious, so he didn't want to shake hands with anyone carelessly. Even though now is the buyer. Adam had traded gun for money from Jack. The transaction is over, Adam and David put the huge amount of cash in the car. But just as they had finished putting it in, from a distance came a police car. Even though they didn't turn on the siren, Adam and David could memorize the sound of the car's engine. their years of being a mobster kept them alert and always on the move.

Jake said. “I’m not forcing you to choose. I am forcing Trip to keep his word. We had a deal for ten more runs and I want to see that done,” Buzzer said and directed his gaze at Bandit. “I know you took over Stalker territory, we want in on that. It’s only fair since Wrath took them out, that means their territory is fair game.” “Wrath took them out as a job for us,” Bandit said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Buzzer. “It’s Warrior territory now. We paid for it, you didn’t. Don’t be a little bitch because we thought ahead and you didn’t.”

The morning was quiet, the world still holding its breath as Kael and Selene stood together, the dawn’s first light casting long shadows across the remnants of the empire. The battle for their future was over, but the real work was just beginning. The empire they had fought for, the empire that had been broken by betrayal and destruction, lay at their feet. It was a daunting task—one that would take not only strength and wisdom, but time and patience.

I slammed my hand over the steering wheel. Stalker hasn't deviated from his aim. He's waiting for something. I couldn't decipher yet. I will find out soon. He wants me dead. Let him dream.

I launched into the details, recounting everything I had learned over the past few days. Adrian listened intently, leaning forward in concentration as I spoke. His face was filled with compassion for Stacia's plight, despite not knowing her personally himself. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing more stories like Stacia's, which surprised me. I didn't assume he was acting out of concern and compassion. I wasn't sure what his motive for revenge was against MID, but the more I saw these expressions on his face, the more compelled I was to find out.

The spectators buzzed with excitement, fervently debating who would claim victory. The duel began with the clash of swords, the sound sharp and relentless as they struck again and again. Vaani pushed forward, driving the Crown Prince to the edge of the cordon. Cornered, he leapt into the air with the agility of a seasoned warrior, somersaulting over her head and landing behind her.

She rose, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the city’s fires shimmered like a thousand crimson eyes. Below, Valenfort prepared for yet another war where humans, vampires, and everything in between would soon redefine what it meant to call something peace.

--- Burning Empire Chapter 1 Matteo’s heart hammered like a drum as he slipped through the crowded streets, clutching the small leather pouch tight beneath his coat. The city buzzed all around him — neon signs flickering, voices shouting, music pounding from nearby bars. But Matteo barely heard it. All he could focus on was the pounding in his chest and the sharp, cold weight in his pocket. This was it. His first real score.