Tomorrow War White Spike Mga Nobela at Kwento

Yet, nobody could have known that after Doll was saved, 'Lucas' appeared again to talk with Mister Vacio and negotiated with him as to win the selection for the victory of Aspho High— the lost of White Day in proportion. This time, Mister Vacio spoke that they have no connections, and that Lucas was not studying at Aspho High anymore, but at White Day High now. Who knew that this would lead 'Lucas' so much that he insisted on sabotaging White Day and then stated that he was still belonged to Aspho High. The report also said that this angered 'Lucas' and battled Mister Vacio with his overwhelming fire starter skills. The spells he used were one of a kind, and it was super unnatural.

Far away, near the center of the city. Something was rising. Not the creature itself. Not yet. A structure. An enormous black spire emerging from the depths below, climbing higher with every passing second. Ancient symbols covered its surface, glowing faintly beneath centuries of darkness. The sight immediately triggered something inside the mark. Pain exploded through Evelyn's body. Visions flooded her mind. She saw armies standing beneath a black sky. Monsters larger than castles. Cities burning. Rivers running red. Then she saw the spire.

The eastern horizon bled with a crimson glow as Dawnspire stood tall against the morning mist, its white stone towers catching the first rays of sunlight. From afar, it looked like a jewel untouched by war. Up close, however, banners of black and crimson flapped in the wind, signaling the coming clash.

He looked at the white light surging up the Spire, arcing into the sky and bouncing off the satellite network. "You... you used me," Aradaa choked out. "I used your empathy. It’s always been your greatest bug." Cassandra’s image began to fade as the Federation fleet above began to ignite their engines. "Enjoy your victory, Prince. You’re the man who infected the world. The villain of the piece. I’ll see you in the Velvet Order." The Spire exploded in a final, silent burst of data. Aradaa fell back into the snow. The silence that followed was terrifying. No humming. No pings. Just the crackle of burning tanks and the distant, fading roar of the retreating ships.

But out of the shadows of the broken mirrors, a new signal flared—a white icon, cold and ancient. [SOURCE IDENTIFIED: THE THIRD PRIME] [STATUS: AWAKENED] [DIRECTIVE: HARVEST THE MOTHER] A massive, bone-white claw reached through the void, wrapping around my obsidian arm. The war for the soul had just found its final predator.

The spear was aimed right at her chest and immediately he got within a safe distance from the White Wolf, he threw it at her. The spear, however, had no impact on Aella. It seemed to bounce off her fur and shattered into pieces. Aella kept running at the Rogue King, who drew a sword from his belt. "Today is your last day, White Wolf." The Rogue King roared and raised the sword high. But before he could do anything, Aella leapt into the air and pushed him off his black stallion. The both of them rolled across the ground littered with bodies of fallen warriors.

Until it was over, there was a possibility of winning. That was until last night's ordeal happened. The White Claw Pack was invadered by intruders. They left a trail of bodies from the pack borders to the pack house. None of those warriors were a match and they all died. Felix was unfortunately taking a run in the woods. He had no idea that the pack was in danger because the intruders masked their scents. That was the advantage they had on their side.

Kael said, his voice hushed with awe. ​Elena opened the box. Inside was a single, glowing seed—not bronze, not emerald, but a pure, brilliant White. ​"This is it, Kael," Elena said, her bronze eyes filling with tears. "The 'Black Bloom' was the rebellion. This... this is the Peace." ​As she touched the white seed, the "Null-Link" flared one last time. Across the light-years, the Spire on Proxima and the Spire on Earth let out a long, harmonious note.

As the sky turned ark, the crackle of lightning and rumble of thunder resembled an apocalyptic uprising. On the ship were nearly ten supreme paragons who each exuded an overwhelming power that sent shivers down everyone's spine. Zione, seated at the helm, wore a murderous look as he glanced at the bones and corpses littered along White Bone Mountain. He rued that he had arrived too late to aid the Wicked Tribe and prevent their total eradication, but his demeanor remained composed as he glanced at the people behind him.