Novels by De Scripter

The noiseless room was now quiet, no echoes, no hum of machines, just the dull weight of silence pressing down. Michael sat on the floor with his back against the wall, right where he and Alex had ended their last spar. The faint marks on the ground were still there, scuffed lines from boots, cracked tiles from impacts. Proof that it had all been real. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. His shoulders shook once, then stilled. “I froze.” He said quietly, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “I had her. I actually had her… And I stopped.” His jaw clenched. “I hesitated because I thought she could still be saved. And because of that…” His fingers dug into his palms. “You’re gone.” The words sat heavy in the air. “You trusted me. You stood in front of that blast like it was nothing. Like my life was worth more than yours.” A bitter laugh slipped out. “What kind of student lets his master die for him? What kind of conqueror am I if I can't save the peo

The helicopter set down on the far end of the specialized training facility, its rotors still spinning as medics rushed forward. The place no longer felt like a training ground. Alex had converted it into something else entirely, a quiet refuge for the wounded, a place where injured soldiers could be treated away from the chaos of the war. Michael lay unconscious in one of the recovery rooms. Hours later, his eyes jolted open. He sucked in a sharp breath and sat up too quickly, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. A dull ache spread through his chest and limbs, not crippling, just enough to remind him that something terrible had happened. His wounds were gone, his body had healed as it always did, but the exhaustion sat deep in his bones, heavier than anything he’d ever felt. Rain tapped steadily against the glass walls surrounding the room. Outside, the night was dark, washed in streaks of water and distant lightning. For a moment, Michael just stared, trying to pie

The entire battlefield froze. Gunfire faded into distant echoes. Shouts died in throats. Even the rain seemed to hesitate as every eye locked onto the figure standing between Mira and Michael. Alex turned slowly, his boots scraping against the cracked stone. Blood spilled freely from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin and staining the front of his battered suit. He coughed once, then laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Damn…” He muttered, voice rough but still carrying that familiar humor. “Should’ve brought a charger for this stupid suit.” He winced, then added with a breathy chuckle, “Though… With this rain, I probably would’ve electrocuted myself anyway.” Michael stared at him, confused, relieved and terrified all at once. Then his gaze dropped. Alex’s stomach was gone. Not wounded, not burned. Gone. Mira’s crimson blast had torn clean through him, leaving twisted metal, scorched flesh, and an emptiness that no amount of treatment could ever fix. Michael’s breath h

The sky cracked open with a low, angry rumble, and rain began to pour. It came down hard, cold drops of water slamming into stone, armor, and skin. Fire hissed as rain met burning wreckage. But none of it slowed the battle. If anything, it made it worse. People were still dying. Bodies lay scattered across the estate grounds, some unmoving, some twitching before going still. Shouts blended with gunfire. Explosions echoed through the rain. The war had crossed the point of stopping long ago. On the open balcony, the fight between Mira and Michael had turned savage. Michael drove Mira back with raw force, his blue energy flaring brighter with every strike. His fists slammed into her defenses again and again, each blow rattling the stone beneath their feet. Mira stumbled, slipped on the rain-slick floor, and Michael took the opening. He pinned her down hard, his knee pressing into her chest, one hand gripping her wrist as he forced her arm aside. Blue energy sharply gathered in his f

“What do you think will happen if I blast your head off?” Mira said, a devilish smile curling on her lips as she raised her hand. Crimson energy gathered fast, thick and violent, spinning around her palm like a storm that wanted to be unleashed. “Will your regenerative ability come through for you then?” Michael swallowed. He could feel the pressure of her power even before she released it. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that he almost thought she could hear it. He tried to focus, tried to pull the blue energy he had used before into his hands, but it didn’t come easily this time. It flickered and surged for a second, then faded, then came back again, crackling like unstable electricity. “Come on…” He muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. Mira didn’t wait, she fired instantly. The crimson blast tore through the air with a deafening roar, filling the room with red light. Instinct took over as Michael threw his hands up in front of his face, bracing himself fo

Outside the estate, chaos ruled the grounds. Smoke hung thick in the air, mixing with dust and the sharp smell of burned metal. Explosions echoed from different directions, shaking the earth beneath everyone’s feet. Adrian and Richard were crouched low behind one of Mira’s tanks, its thick metal plating the only thing keeping them alive as bullets whizzed past overhead. Adrian peeked out for half a second, then ducked back with a sharp click of his tongue. “That sniper’s really starting to piss me off.” He muttered. Richard adjusted his glasses, pressing his back harder against the tank. “And he seems to be targeting you in particular.” He added, one eyebrow raised despite the situation. Adrian snorted. “Don’t care about that. He needs to go down.” Richard glanced at him. “And what’s your plan?” Adrian turned slowly, giving him a flat, almost offended look. “Don’t have one.” Richard stared at him. “You’re insane.” Adrian grinned, that familiar reckless smile appearing even as g

Alex swirled the champagne in his glass and smiled at the couple before him—so dazzled, so unaware.“I’d love to meet your son,” Alex said warmly. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”Charlotte Walts—elegant, graceful, and far too eager—clasped her hands with delight. “You’re such a remarkable young man, Alex. If you could mentor him… oh, what a blessing that would be.”Alex grinned. “I’ll try my best. It’s only fair we help each other, isn’t it?”The way they laughed, as if they had known each other for years, amused Alex to no end. Moments ago, they had tried to judge him. Now they wanted their son to become like him.Mr. Walts, quiet and brooding beside his overly eager wife, finally spoke. “Forgive me, but you never mentioned—who are your parents again?”The smile on Alex’s face tightened slightly. He turned to face the man directly, holding his gaze with sharp amusement gleaming in his eyes.There was something about that look—quiet, commanding, dangerous—that made Mr. Walts shi

The chancellor’s residence was aglow with opulence. Hidden beneath the pretense of celebration, the party was less about champagne and music and more about silent power plays and whispered alliances. As Dustin had warned, this wasn’t just a party—it was a decoy. A gathering of power brokers masked as a social event. Politics in pearls. Deals in tuxedos.Alex stood by the grand entrance, eyes scanning the crowd. Dressed in a deep navy three-piece suit tailored to perfection, he looked nothing like the boy who woke up that morning being called “Errand Boy.” His hair was slicked back, his posture confident, and his aura undeniable. He wasn’t just attending this event. He was owning it.He tugged slightly at his lapel and exhaled.This morning, he was invisible.This afternoon, he was humiliated.By night, he was a multimillionaire, the largest shareholder of one of the most powerful banks in the city, and the proud owner of a suit most people in this room couldn’t afford without selling

The city’s air tasted different when Alex stepped out of the bank—sweeter, fresher, laced with a buzz that only the wealthy understood. He wasn't just some broke, errand-running clown anymore. He was now the secret owner of Heritage Finance Bank, and with $10 million resting quietly in his account, the world suddenly looked like his playground.Still, despite the triumph swelling in his chest, his heart was not without its tremors. Uncle Tony’s cryptic remarks had shaken something loose inside him. And Sandra’s quiet warning had left him a little unsettled. Something was brewing. And then, there was Gwen.The thought of her made him grin. Gwen, with her sharp tongue, soft curls, and mysterious allure—she was nothing like Emily. Emily may have dropped him like trash that morning, but now, a girl far more beautiful and influential wanted to go on a date with him. And even more intriguing, Gwen might hold keys to the secrets surrounding his parents’ deaths.But first things first: he nee

Down at the reception, Sandra was a woman on a mission. She had just returned from the restroom, where she'd caked on a fresh layer of makeup—foundation, highlighter, and a lipstick so glossy it could blind an unsuspecting victim. She’d adjusted her dress higher and tighter, the neckline a little lower now, the curves more pronounced. Every step she took was a calculated swing of hips.She positioned herself right by the elevator, her perfume cloud thick enough to announce her presence before her words ever could. A few colleagues threw her mocking glances. One of them, Babara, rolled her eyes and muttered just loud enough, “And the parade begins.”Sandra scoffed, tossing her freshly ironed curls. “Y’all can hate all you want. But I wasn’t born to suffer,” she said, popping her gum as she spoke. “I’m too fine to be struggling. I don’t want to work hard—I want to be spoiled. Period.”The girls behind the counter burst into quiet laughter. “And what now? You want to trap another man l

Alex sat stiffly in the massive executive chair, the black leather cushioning swallowing his wiry frame. The contrast between the opulence of the room and his comical clown costume made him feel like a misplaced joke in a billionaire’s office. Still, he sat up straight, eyes locked on the man across the sleek mahogany desk—the President of Heritage Finance Bank, Mr. Godwin Taylor.A soft knock came on the door. Gwen stepped in, heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. She carried a crystal flute filled with a golden, bubbling liquid.“Dom Pérignon,” she said with a charming smile as she handed the glass to Alex. “The most expensive champagne in the building.”“Thank you,” Alex said, his voice unsure. Her fingers lingered slightly as she passed him the drink, and when their eyes met, she smiled again—this time, slower, deeper, as if she could see something beneath the clown paint.Taylor cleared his throat. “Thank you, Gwen. You may excuse us.”She nodded and exited, leaving

There were gasps all over as Sandra fell.After a second, just as she was scrambling to get up, they all burst into laughter. It was such an embarrassing situation for her and extremely funny to those watching.“What, Sandra, did you see a ghost on the computer?” Someone jabbed.Everyone laughed harder.Alex remained composed as he watched everything unfold—even though he too wanted to laugh.Of course it was funny to him. He knew what had just happened:Sandra had just confirmed exactly how much he was worth and realized she was in hot water.He watched silently as she finally got up, tried to straighten the embarrassment out of her attire, and then moved towards her computer with shame and defeat etched very visibly on her face.Sandra's heart was beating fast; she couldn't hear herself think.God, what have I done?She tried to keep her raging thoughts out of her expression as she refreshed the computer again, but Alex could see that she was trembling slightly.Sandra prayed that s