All Blood Demon Arts Novels & Stories

It promotes our evolution or brings devastation upon us all. Those who practice dark art use it for power and control, for abuse, and for the pleasure they feel in causing pain and death. Just like the tragic story of Diego, Harry, and Mary. Mary was eventually served as food to the vampires and they ensured to drain her vile blood till she became a walking corpse and ended up as bones.

Andrea: I have also heard of it but I really don't know anything of it. Hakan: Well as the head paladin you should know of these things, you have full access to all the information after all. The Golden Blood Harp was an artifact that appeared more than a thousand years ago. It is said that the harp had the power to control any demons as mere puppets. The Forbidden records state that more than ten thousand demons were under our complete control on the side of the humans. But the most important part of the Golden Blood Harp is not its power.

Not that this is my first time but this people are different. It's the pack of the demon alpha. I wouldn't believe I would be here even in an hundred years to come. Some nice looking maids came to put the serving dishes on the table. Those dishes are quite expensive. Looking at the one they placed on the demon alpha's path, I'm so sure it's not steel but his dishware and goblet were shimmering like diamond. I wondered what they are made of.

Without that trifling brother of his still exerting his authority on him, he would have easily dealt with Asherah. “At least this confirms that she is a Wind Demon after all,” Pazuzu sniffed as he spoke. While it was not only Wind demons who could manipulate the Wind Element, only Wind Demons could integrate Blood Arts into the wind. Pazuzu turned to look at his kitten again, and his blood boiled upon seeing its pitiful appearance. With a snort he pushed his feet off the ground and jumped into the sky. Pazuzu’s power may be suppressed, but he was still a Demon King. With his arms pulled back he recalled the skills that fell under the Blood Arts. Although he taught this technique to the Wind

“Do you want the blood of eight people, fresh and warm?” Ak-kvir considered my words for a moment. “Yes.” “Get me to them, and I’ll grant you their bodies and their blood.” “What about their souls?” “I can always summon another,” I hinted. The demon growled, clearly unhappy. “I will get you there, all r-r-right. Bodies and blood are mine?” “Yes. A necromancer’s word.” “Climb up.” I laughed at his inanity. “Should I take a whip? An oath, you beast!”

Edzar's father. Ariesta Collison is a beautiful princess with a unique face. It stands at 170cm, the figure most women dream of, weighing just 48kg this month due to post-traumatic stress. Her exotic yellow skin has become even more pale since he's been living like a vampire for months. Sunscreen. It still hums from its thick lips.

He sighs deeply, running a hand through his deep bronze hair, deciding whether he should indulge this information to me or not. "He has full Demon blood,” he eventually admits. I flinch. I’ll admit, I don’t know much about history. It never interested me. However, everyone knows about the Great War that raged on between Angel’s and Demon’s. The Angel’s eradicated all full-blooded Demon’s. A few with some Demon blood survived, and as centuries passed the bloodline ran a lot thinner, to the point where most are barely much more than human. That’s what we were told in school…anything else and hysteria would have erupted.

“Wait … are you gonna sacrifice me?! You traitor!” “Shut your bloody mouth,” Janshai swiped Arth’s finger away, “I’m not gonna offer your frail human body. For this demonic portal to be opened, it needs a substantial amount of demon blood.” “But …” Arth’s eyebrows stormed. “You’re only a half-demon.” “That’s the problem,” Janshai stared at the mark, his hands on his pockets. “This is only a theory, but I’ll try to double the amount of blood offer. That’s why it’ll take a longer time.”

Something other. The transformation is horrific and beautiful in equal measure. His body shifts, muscles rippling and expanding beneath his skin. His fingers elongate, nails sharpening into claws. The shadows pour from the mark, wrapping around him like living armor, and his eyes when they open are pure red-silver fire with no trace of humanity. He's magnificent. Terrifying. A nightmare made flesh.

“Blood, Word, Breath. Break any and the stair erases your ascent.” Taren swallowed. “What happens if the stair erases us?” “You forget up,” the figure said, almost kindly. “Some prefer that.” They descended. ⸻ The chamber of Blood was small, round, plain. A bowl cut into the floor collected melt from the ceiling in slow, patient drops. A wafer of ice rested on a plinth beside it. Three channels had been carved there: two whole, one shallow. Kaelira’s wolf paced. Teeth and ritual, Ardyn said, unimpressed. Pick one.