Wasteland Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 74 Emily's P.O.V The waste lands, as we called them, were a vast no man's land stretching between the packs. No Alpha had power out here, and no one recognized any authority in the wastelands. Here was a haven for rogue wolves, exiles and outcasts. My wanderings led me to the prancing pony, an inn that stood in isolation on the grounds of the wastelands. Here, I knew I would find rest and refreshments.

CHAPTER 101 Derek’s POV The wastelands stretched endlessly before me like a barren land of dust and scrub, as it was under the pale light of dawn. The tires of my rugged vehicle chewed through the uneven terrain, kicking up clouds of dirt that clung to the windshield like a ghostly shroud. I had been driving for hours with the monotony of the journey only broken by the occasional creak of the old suspension or the distant howl of a lone wolf, likely a rogue patrolling its desolate territory.

I'd half hoped he'd at the very least call to yell about his painting, but he couldn't even spare me his anger. ​But Wolveshedge took my mind off of all that. It was like a different world where everyone was happy all the goddamn time; I was half content with it and half disgusted with the level of joy in the atmosphere. The town was peaceful and everyone seemed to be content with their small little section on the map, even if they were so terribly discontented. But it was why I chose this place, wasn't it? To be safe and discontented, yet I couldn't chase the feeling of something missing from the discombobulated picture I was forming day by day.

The Eastern Wastes were not dead. They just slept differently. Ash trees towered upside down, roots stretching into the sky like the bones of giants. The soil pulsed faintly with violet veins. The wind whispered not in gusts but in names, some of them familiar, some of them hers. Aria led the small company across the ridge: Orion, Theron, Calder, and two scouts from Nightwind. None spoke much. The Wastes had a way of making even the boldest wolf quiet.

wrong. Not dark. Not light. Just empty. The ground was ash. The air was thick, but breathable. The sky was a swirling mess of violet and gray, with no sun, no moon—just a slow churning void. Kael moved quickly, guided only by instinct and the burn in his chest where the ring had once rested. “Aria,” he called. His voice echoed for miles. He walked through the wasteland for what felt like hours, though the sunless sky never shifted.

"The Vaals are a strong people with even stronger ties to their family. They resemble humans the most. They look like most of the people from the Earth's continent, Africa. They have three participants in this Harvest. All three are brothers. The Coks are next. They are a resourceful people. They come from a hot and sandy planet. They live primarily underground to avoid the heat and to be close to their water source. They have fifteen participants in this Harvest. Due to the harshness of their planet, they are known to be excellent fighters which is why they have so many. Their skin is a tan color. The Hassins have six fighters participating, and like us, they range in color. Their tones are

Xiao Chen pressed. The swordsman paused uncertainly before he went on, "The Wastelands are thus called, because much of the ground is either dry, barren, or desolate. Most of the Wastelands are covered by miles and miles of swamps and desert, unlike the lush verdant steppes of the Violet Manor, which is what the natives of the Wastelands call the Five Continents." Xiao Chen took in a long, heavy breath. "Am I now on the brink of ruin, on the run from the Immortals' League, that I have to seek refuge in the desolate Wastelands?"

She sighed then her gaze shifted to my arm. "What happened to your arm?" Annah points at my left arm that's wrapped in a casket. "Don't worry about it." She eyes me for a second then lets it go knowing that I'll be fine. "Anyway, back to business." Annah is an arms dealer, her company is one of the best companies out there they call themselves 'The Caters' She does dirty work here and there but she knows how to cover up her tracks

POV: Viggo The biological requirements of the Wasteland did not include a hierarchy. The environment only calculated the presence of hydration. I navigated the battered transport toward the edge of the perimeter. The paved surface of the Citadel crumbled into the shifting white silt of the Bone Wastes. The engine emitted a final, rhythmic grinding noise—metal scraping metal in a staccato cycle. It rattled my teeth and sent a vibration up my spine that settled in my jaw. The machine gave a terminal shudder and died.

Eustace viciously said, “Hmph! That bast*rd thinks he will win for sure after snatching away Yukon and Kalonex Divine Tree. “What wishful thinking! “The current Wasteland is full of opportunities and resources! “I may have lost Yukon for now, but I can still take it back after three months... Moreover, I will take all the sacred realms and sanctuaries in the Wasteland within these three months. Whoever dares to snatch them shall become my enemy.”