Stronger After Being Killed Novels & Stories

I felt no remorse when I killed and drained him. In fact... granted his blood was bitter I was thrilled I killed him. He had raped and abused me one too many times. He used to fuck me until I bled. He beat me until I passed out when I was weak and fragile in the first dungeon. I knew I needed blood to be stronger so I could be free. Therefore as much as I hated to kill someone, he was the someone I didn't regret killing so I could be free, so I could be strong enough to be free.

And for this, the simplest example was the fact that when you killed a werewolf in the Arena or the Battlefield, it became the symbol of your strength. Everyone praised you for that, accepted your strength to be the superior one and trusted you to be the protector of everyone in the pack, but if you killed that same werewolf in a random confrontation, you were a sinner who didn't even get a place in the pack, followed by others consequences of their actions and the punishment already decided for them. And that's what he was trying to explain to his stubborn brother.

He was dead, I killed him. I couldn't help but feel a surge of joy as I stood there, victorious yet wounded. The pain throbbed through my body, but it was a small price to pay for the satisfaction of emerging triumphant. Blood trickled down my side, staining my fur, but I didn't mind. The wounds were a testament to the intensity of the battle, a reminder of my strength and resilience. They would heal in time, and the scars would serve as a reminder of this hard-fought victory.

I guess, knowing they want to kill me too alleviated some of the guilt I would have felt on a normal basis. Just when the right man falls and the remnants of what used to be his spine falls out of my mouth, I look up. Turning to look at the massacre I was seeing in front of me. The different body parts, many disfigured beyond recognition. If I was told my fur was dripping blood, I wouldn’t be surprised. I was already feeling the blood drying and matting the hairs. I felt filthy and weirdly stronger than I have in a long time. I didn’t know if that had to do with the exercise or the fact that I killed more than twenty men without stopping to catch my breath.

More power surged into me. I was getting stronger, faster, and sharper. It was intoxicating. I tore through the rest of them, each kill feeding me, like drinking in their strength, their essence. My vision sharpened, my body felt weightless, and my reflexes were near supernatural. I could hear the girl crying behind me, but I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. By the time the last rogue hit the floor, my chest was heaving; I was no longer the discarded alpha heir. I was now stronger than the ‘precious’ heir.

His lips parted slowly to speak, but no words came out of it. He took a deep breath, as if he was regaining all his lost strength. “H–How's this possible?” He closed his eyes. “You’re supposed to be dead. How is it possible that you're standing before me again?” His statement brought back the anger I had almost forgotten, reminded of all the terrible things he did to me in the past. He didn't even think I would make it alive. I expected me to be dead, my body decomposed. Whatever feeling that had me quivering before died—I killed it. I marched forward, a new found strength and confidence arose in me. I stood fearlessly beside Kael, not caring about his opinions anymore.

For this will make you stronger, more resilient, more powerful", I looked at her sharply and she just nodded before continuing, "Yes, I am right. You won't understand but you will feel it but now, I want you to weep. Cry, flush it all out, and get back on your feet. Don't let the world see the broken you, but let them see your scars and praise you for being a survivor. Because you are, even death will not hurt you like this but guess who would be better, you! The hybrid, the leader, the first of his kind, the one who has defeated death, the one who can challenge a God and win.

His sword clattered to the floor, and a bitter sound escaped his lips. I grabbed the spear, wasting no time, and stabbed him from the back. His blood stained my clothes. He groaned for the last time and ended up on the floor. I stared at my hand, wondering if I had just ended his life. Where did I gain the strength from? I had never felt so strong in my entire life. "So you are this strong?" I heard him taunt. He's still alive? He raised his head up, but I could see the fear in his eyes and the faint of his life waving goodbye.

I bent down, reached out to pet it… And it died. Just like that. Its body convulsed once, and then those same black veins I had seen on Callahan crept across its skin. I watched them spread like roots underneath its fur, and I knew. I knew I had done it. Again. Whenever it happened, it felt like fire inside me. Like something surging through my veins, too fast and too hot. But it wasn’t pain. It was power. Energy. I felt stronger. Sharper. As if whatever made them die was now part of me, tucked into my bones.

"Were you always like this? Or did you have to learn?" "Learned. Through pain mostly. Through watching people I loved die. Through becoming someone I hated and then finding my way back." He met her eyes. "You want the truth? I've done terrible things. Killed people. Hurt people. Some deserved it. Some didn't. And I live with that. Every day." "Does it get easier?" "No. But you get stronger. Learn to carry the weight without breaking." "I don't feel strong." "Strength isn't feeling invincible. It's surviving when you feel destroyed and choosing to keep going anyway." He stood. Offered his hand. "Come on. Let's get you breakfast. Dimitri's making actual food instead of field rations. Minor mir