Tokyo Ghoul White Reaper Romane & Geschichten

Fury radiated from her size and for some reason, her death glare was partially directed at Ciara, bloodthirsty. The White Wolf. I froze. We all did. The legend I had dismissed. The nightmare whispered about under the moonlight; stood before me. Alive and breathing. Staring straight into my soul. My throat dried. None of us moved, no one breathed. We all stared back with horror. The only sound was her growl, deep and unrelenting, shaking us to our bones. She stepped back a few paces, slow and deliberate. Reclaiming the center of the road as her battlefield, claiming her stance. Her burning gaze found mine; cold, merciless, warning. Her message was clear. For us to turn back.

"Who would have thought that Mr. Latham, who appears so solemn and dignified, would have a son?" "If you look at the both of them, they don't resemble each other at all." "Alas. Young people nowadays will say anything just for the sake of money." "It's no surprise that everyone is shocked by this person's sudden appearance. It seems like he might be an illegitimate child that Mr. Latham has no recollection of." Upon realizing that the "family reunion" drama was about to go off the rails, I subtly signaled to the reporter standing at the corner. I gracefully lifted my gown and confidently walked over to Callum. I then took his arm and handed him a document.

I don’t remember feeling worse about myself, or so guilty, ever before in my whole life. I watched him pull over again outside a house and honk, the night sky of an awful dark red outside his window. To my surprise, it was Ted, one of the two remaining Haunters, who came to his car. Brandon lowered his window and handed him two big bags that looked full of takeout. “The water is in the trunk,” he said, moving to open his door. “I’ll get it,” his friend replied, stopping him from getting out of the car. “You close the window and go home, bro. Thank you.”

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Harlan raised Riven’s arm higher, but the celebration was short-lived. A deep voice boomed from the shadows near the back of the warehouse. “I’m not done yet, Reaper.” A massive figure pushed through the throng. Jaxor Veyl another underground legend with a shaved head, jagged facial scars, and a body built like a wrecking ball. He was known for dirty fights and even dirtier tastes. Harlan’s gold tooth flashed in a wicked grin as he winked at the newcomer. “We got ourselves a bonus round, boys! Reaper versus Veyl. Winner still takes the prize.”

"You bastard!" Power exploded through the room as Nova surged beneath Aria's skin. Silver energy flickered around her body. Several warriors instinctively stepped back. The messenger merely smiled. "There she is." "The White Wolf." He looked almost satisfied. "So this is the power His Majesty waited centuries to claim." Rowan moved in front of Aria. "If you want a fight..." His eyes turned a dangerous shade of gold. "...then fight me." The messenger laughed. "Fight you?" "You still don't understand."I didn't come to fight." I came to deliver an invitation."

"You're coming back." Cale held him. He looked at his wrist. Two marks. He hadn't used one. The color had returned on its own. Or maybe... maybe the wedding had paid the debt. The Vow, Cale thought. The Vow is the energy. He kissed the top of Elion’s head. "I am here," Cale said. "I am right here." And in the quiet hallway of the haunted house, the Reaper finally put down his scythe, and picked up a life instead.

He had traded our location, and the fragile existence of the unborn Heir inside my womb, to secure his own survival in the new Regency world order. "White ghosts," I whispered, the words freezing in my throat as the dark perimeter of the chamber began to bleach. The escalation was an instantaneous, blinding invasion. From the fractures in the data walls, thousands of high-frequency, sterile pale figures materialized—the specialized extraction avatars of the Sovereign executioners, known across the sectors as the "White Ghosts." They didn't use crude force; they deployed a systemic white-out protocol designed to bleach and erase any corrupted data in the mainframe.

I have so many unanswered questions about this mysterious assassin. I spent the next week preparing for the formal event while also gathering what I could about assassins that were known. None of the information told me anything. I got a few well-known female assassin names. The number one was Phantom Reaper, second was Blade of Bracken (named after this city, Bracken’s Rock), and third was simply Death. Not very original, that one. By evening, it’s time for me to attend this despicable gala to network and attempt to secure funding for my next research project. I dress sharply in a black tuxedo, my white dress shirt is crisp, and I wear a neatly knotted black tie. My hair is usually always a

The bodies of the two attackers did not feel like ordinary flesh but more akin to puppets. "Who are you people?" Chase roared, his voice filled with fury. The black-clad man coughed blood, a grim smile on his lips. "Who are we? Haha... We're reapers. Everything on you... is ours now!" As he spoke, the man slammed a hand over the wound on his chest. A thumb-sized green talisman materialized, emitting a sharp, piercing hum.

I took a deep breath as his gaze sent chills down my spine, forcing myself not to meet his eyes with my own. I had to remind myself who he really was. He was the Reaper, the man who killed his whole family, the man who could kill with his bare hands. I had to remember that, I couldn’t let myself see him as handsome…even if I couldn’t deny that he certainly was. I pulled out a chair on my end of the table, as far away from Kael as possible. Before I could sit, I heard a low growl coming from Kael, making me snap my eyes back to his face.