The Chronicles Of Apocalypse の小説・ストーリー

Fear crept in, and I wondered if these changes were reversible. I turned to Raphael, my eyes pleading with him to intervene, to stop Haven's twisted game before it was too late. Everything around me erupted into chaos. A green flame enveloped me, obscuring my vision, and I was bombarded by the sounds of destruction: shattering glass, crunching wood, and the thuds of bodies being thrown into walls. The cacophony was deafening, and I could only cling to the hope that I would emerge from this unscathed.

If there was even a sliver of a way back… My fingers dragged over one particularly ancient tome: bound in silver and wrapped in spell-locked chains. I whispered the unlocking spell, old enough that the air around me shimmered with pale blue glyphs. The book creaked open. “Chronos Binding,” I murmured. The title alone sent a chill down my spine. Inside were diagrams of realms overlapping each other like threads in a tapestry. Old Realm. Divine Plane. Mortal Realm. Abyssal Void.

"I have reason to suspect that everything Charlie encounters now is a consequence of Marcius Stark's actions for the last few hundred years. "From the 'Preface to the Apocalyptic Book' to the Apocalyptic Book, everything circulated amongst the common folk by his design. The former is naturally meant to seek one with the Destiny of Rising Dragons, lure him into cultivating and enlightenment, before passing it to his progeny so that more share that privilege. "As for the Apocalyptic Book, it's meant to temper those with the Destiny of Rising Dragons into the form Marcius Stark desires, before luring them to Mount Tason."

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

Lucien asked, his voice smooth, low, and dripping with a quiet, lethal danger. ​I could feel it in the pit of my belly and in the very soles of my feet that this man was bad news. Every single survival instinct I had honed over five grueling years in the apocalypse was screaming at me to run, to turn around and bolt back to the elevator. But there was no turning back now. I had made my bed. If I was going to survive the impending doom in two weeks, I had to confront this monster and bend him to my will.

Ronan muttered. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Ara cut in, voice heavy. They all stopped and looked at her. Ara stood at the edge of the trees, eyes fixed on the red numbers still ticking in her vision. “We didn’t stop Ramsdale Hawkins,” she said quietly. “He has the authorization. Based on my last timeline… the apocalypse begins in exactly seven days.”

"What?" Natasha stepped closer. Professor Hargrove pointed at the dates. "These experiments started eight months after civilization collapsed." Silence followed. Someone had continued experimenting after the end of the world. Elias continued reading. His expression darkened. "They were trying to create controllable infected." Aaron's eyes narrowed. "Soldiers." "Yes." The answer came immediately. "Super soldiers." Josh cursed under his breath. Damien looked disgusted. "People were dying and these bastards were still playing God."

I squirted long arcs that soaked their cocks and the sheets as my body shook uncontrollably. I clenched my teeth, willing the waves to pass as it wracked through my body, ruining me inside out. I threw my head back and let out a heart-wrenching scream, not caring if the whole world was listening to us. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I repeated over and over when the climax seemed to go on forever. Finally when the worst was over, I felt my muscles go lax in their arms. Damian pulled out and stroking his cock fast, he ordered, “On your knees.”

“Not yet. He’s fighting… Somehow, he is fighting.” Bishop stepped forward, pale under the electric storm, his arrogance cracking. “You fools don’t understand! He’s beyond control. Azrael’s seed—it’s the apocalypse in a body!” Vex’s face twisted into something dark, a smile with no humour. “Then why aren’t we celebrating?” Because, I realised with icy clarity, that victory was impossible. Luca’s energy surged outward, consuming cars, tearing buildings, and ripping chunks of asphalt into the air. The Serpents we had seen arriving moments before were obliterated by mere proximity.