Unholy Player Novels & Stories

He picked up the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. There was no seal, no signature, and nothing to reveal who had left it behind. Maverick’s eyes scanned the words written across it, the color drained from his face while his breathing hitched. The note read: IF YOU TRULY WANT YOUR MATE BACK ALIVE… GO TO THE HALLOWPACK. COME ALONE. TRUST NO ONE. Maverick instinctively crumpled the paper in his fist before racing toward the door.

It was a trial by fire, a relentless pursuit of excellence that demanded nothing less than my absolute best. Lost in my thoughts, the impact of the puck against my forehead snapped me back to the present. "FUCK," I muttered, the expletive slipping out before I could stop it. The sting against my skin was a stark reminder that I was in a whole new league, both literally and figuratively.

I started scrolling, digging into the biography of the man on the poster, Horace. "Tulia," I murmured, staring at his icy blue eyes on the screen. "What do you know about him? About Horace?" Tulia froze, the damp cloth hovering over my skin. She looked toward the door as if his name alone could summon a ghost. "He is a monster in a jersey, my lady," she whispered. "People say he’s the most ruthless player to ever step onto the ice in the Northern Territory. They call him the ice Reaper because once he targets a player, he doesn't stop until their career is over. He never forgets a debt, and he never, ever forgives."

The room went silent. "Our director, Nelson Ward, recently uncovered evidence of financial misconduct. Over the past two years, approximately seventy-five thousand dollars in donations and grant money have been systematically embezzled." Gasps rippled through the crowd. "The perpetrator has been identified as board member Thomas Garrett." Chaos erupted. Everyone is talking at once, shock and angry and disbelief colliding. Thomas Garrett—church elder, respected businessman, pillar of the community. It was impossible. It had to be a mistake.

"Honey, what happened the other day was my fault. I'm actually on medication now. The doctor said that getting pregnant would be bad for both me and the baby, which is why I took my anger out on you." I furrowed my brow and asked, "What's wrong? Are you sick?" She took a deep breath. "Honey, you've always been curious about why I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, right? Well, it's actually because of this illness as well." I stared at her, and she continued, "When I was young, my uncle abused me. That time of my life was like a nightmare. It made me feel inferior. I didn't dare to tell anyone about it, about how intimacy repelled me. I even wanted to have a sexless marriage. When I confessed it

She wished she could ignore it but it would only make things much more worse than it already was. The only thing she could do was not deny the fact that something had gone wrong between them. "That's, that's kind of over now." There was a long pause and Crystal apologised for asking. "I just knew it, guys like that... They're just players, nothing more. Most of them end up with super skinny hot girls." Holly raised her eyebrows. "I don't get your point." She said and Crystal looked unfazed. "I'm just saying, it's kind of pretty obvious that he didn't like you that way in the first place. I mean, he's not the kind of guy, to date a girl like you, if we're being totally honest."

Five years ago, Vivienne Cross was London’s most brilliant rising sports rehabilitation therapist. She was also secretly in love with Marcus Vance, the arrogant, generational talent of Premier League soccer. But when Marcus forced her to falsify his medical clearance under pressure—ruining his knee permanently on the pitch—he didn't take the blame. Instead, he publicly branded her a medical fraud to save his own sponsorships. His lie blacklisted her from the industry, sent her family into financial ruin, and caused her father’s fatal stroke. Now, Marcus is the ruthless, bitter General Manager of London United, living with a failing body and a hollow soul. Desperate to salvage his mobility,

A budget hotel. The girl on the floor stared up at me, rubbing her elbow, her face a mask of hurt and confusion. She had a practical high ponytail and wore hiking shorts. “What the hell, Kiera? You have a nightmare or something? It’s me! Jenna!” My mind raced, cold logic dousing the panic. The System. But it was too soon. Six days too soon. William’s voice echoed in my memory. ‘Some players… they get pulled in early. No warning. System glitch, or maybe it just likes to be cruel. They call them the Unlucky Draw.’

“I tucked it away in my boxers and made for the door, hoping it would deflate before she noticed, but it just got more rigid and by the time I walked out into the hallway, it was tenting my shorts. You can hide a hard-on in regular jeans or shorts, but you can’t hide one in a pair of boxers, so I hurried back to the room so I could slip my shorts on. Before I could get them up my legs, Lily walked in and noticed I was sporting another woody.” “Busted!” “Yup. And there was nothing I could say. I remember getting that feeling inside, you know when your whole body kind of goes numb and you just want to crawl into a hole and die?” “Well, maybe not that bad, but…yup, I’ve been there before.” “I p

[Player's 99th death confirmed. Hidden quest commenced: Hundred Deaths—reward: Yvie Jade's revival.] When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying on the cold floor, the pool of my own blood around me dried up. Once again, I reminded myself that I had come to this world to charm Mila Gibbs, in order to bring my beloved Yvie back to life. I was an orphan without anyone, but Yvie brought me out of the darkness. When the System told me that I could save Yvie by charming Mila, I didn't hesitate to say yes.