Red Ghost Apocalypse (Red Ghost Trilogy Book 3)

Ancient Vengeance Awakens in the Final Battle for Humanity

A demon lord from the dawn of time has returned—his purpose is singular: revenge. To achieve it, he must crush the fragile coalitions of resistance, starting with Admiral Genevieve Cocklin and her relentless band of space pirates. But Genevieve is not alone. Joined by The Talented—a volatile crew of young demigods just awakening to their power—she must navigate betrayal, fear, and cosmic devastation.

As a mysterious swordsman cuts a bloody path across star systems, Genevieve and her allies chase answers through space and time, uncovering secrets buried at the birth of intelligent life itself. Bonds of loyalty and love are tested as the future of humanity hangs by a thread.

Red Ghost Apocalypse is the sweeping conclusion to Gerry Eugene’s Red Ghost Trilogy—a story of gods, pirates, and vengeance spanning the stars.

Start the final chapter of the Red Ghost Trilogy today.

Excerpt from the book

Chiyo stepped out of nowhere and onto the streets of Chicago. He stood in what had once been a lakeside park, but now it was a killing field. Here it was kill or be killed, and that suited Chiyo. Chiyo held a sword in each hand. He chose a whirling attack, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He fought centipedes the size of great Danes and rats the size of brown bears. He walked into a horde of black widow spiders the size of footstools. Soon he was a tornado of razor-sharp steel, and in moments, a newly minted army of the dead surrounded him. Two giant flying jelly fish converged on him, and white plasma emitted from the tips of his swords. He sliced the jelly monsters into pieces. For hour after hour, Chiyo paced the chaotic streets, doing all that he could to attract attack. He found the transporting device, in this case a pern and gyre, and cut it into scrap. When he jumped out of Chicago and into Dallas, he repeated the same exercise. He destroyed the conveyance that brought beasts to Old Earth, and he slaughtered the dangerous animals. None of them demonstrated the spark of intelligence.

He traveled to Miami, Seattle, and Boston. He cleared alien monsters from Kansas City, Saint Louis, and Detroit. He never tired. He took no injuries. There was no object his swords would not cut. All substances came apart at the merest touch of his blades.

Not once did Chiyo encounter a human. The cities were certainly no place for people. No witnesses spread the word. He was alone, unseen, relentless, unrecorded, and unstoppable. Although Chiyo had Asian features, he was not from Old Earth. And despite that he appeared to be no older than thirty, he stepped out of the oldest depths of time.

Chiyo was a one-off, no longer quite human but not a machine, neither gray alien nor reptilian. He was intelligent—there was no doubting it. He was an editor, and he deleted all that was out of balance or beyond the original design. There was no reasoning with him, no changing his mind. Chiyo studied the grammar of a situation, and if aught were in error, Chiyo made the correction. He had no friends, no lovers, no dreams.

He did not concern himself with good or bad, beauty, truth, or love. He did not consider philosophies or fighting styles. Chiyo once had been a prince among his people, humane, cultured, and generous. Someone, impossibly long ago and impossibly far away, had warped Chiyo into his current condition. Chiyo would have liked to delete his maker for being out of bounds, for being too far from the norm. Chiyo had no appreciation of irony. He would never see that he himself was the most out-of-bounds creature in all of existence.

Chiyo felt his attention drawn to the Pacific coast, specifically to southern California. Even from Detroit, he could discern much that was in error in the vicinity of San Diego.