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Paragon of Death

Life from birth has been nothing but hell. I lost my parents to some stupid aristocrats whom they offended. Executed for no good reason. My relatives abandoned me and pushed me aside. They feared for their lives and left me and my sister to starve and wander the streets alone! No, this is worse than hell! I watched my sister die of starvation. Her lips were dry and her feet bloody. Her nails were broken and her fingers riddled with cuts. She struggled in my hands and after a few seconds of struggle she passed away. She seemed joyful in death so I prayed mine will come just as swift and merciful as hers. So I stayed in the alleyway, alone with her rotten corpse awaiting my fate for God knows how long. I could see it already. The darkness encroaching from all sides Everyone said death is scary but I say it's the end! Who needs life after death? What is the need for reincarnation? Who would want to return to this crazy world? "It's not yet time for you to go... You have one more task to accomplish as my host" A voice called out to me. I could barely see or speak but how can I miss such a beautiful face? It was an extremely handsome man who gazed at me with tender eyes. "Haven't I suffered enough? Can't I just rest?" I cried out. Why would I want to stay back in such a cruel world? "Don't you want to avenge the death of your parents? Don't you want to become something greater? I can make that happen!" The beautiful man said with an alluring voice. "You... Who are you?" I asked with an anxious heart. My parents always said God is the only one who cares about me! Maybe in my final hours, he has come to save me. "Call me Death..."

3_Sins_Studios · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
691 Chs

Battle of words

Sol's frown deepened as he gazed at the enigmatic figure standing unfazed within the maelstrom of his unleashed flames. Despite the fiery chaos surrounding them, a pair of piercing dark red eyes locked onto Sol with an intensity that bore no fear, no hesitation. The eyes seemed to bore deep into Sol's very essence, as if assessing his strength and resolve.

Silence permeated the air as the flames raged on, the unknown figure saying not a word, content to wait until the torrent of fire subsided. When the last ember of the inferno faded, the figure's form was revealed.

He was a man in his early twenties, draped in crimson robes that fluttered gracefully in the wind. His fiery red hair danced with the same ethereal grace, and his sharp reptilian eyes exuded an unsettling, almost otherworldly aura. His nails were overgrown and pointy, an odd feature that added to his mysterious allure.