Arrow: Blood Rush Novels & Stories

Blood spattered the forest floor, mingling with the earth, staining the moonlit ground a dark, ominous red. Zara, a fierce and agile member of Alpha Marcus's pack, dodged an incoming attack from an opponent twice her size, using her quick reflexes and sharp claws to counter with a swift and precise strike. The rival wolf stumbled backward, howling in pain, but Zara had little time to celebrate as another adversary closed in.

With a primal roar, fueled by anger and determination, I gathered all the strength I had left. Ignoring the pain that coursed through me, I reached back and grasped the shaft of the arrow embedded in my back. With a surge of adrenaline, I wrenched it free, unleashing a guttural shout that reverberated through the air. The poison-laced arrow clattered to the ground, a symbol of my defiance.

Allies healed for 50% of enemy damage dealt. - **Flavor:** Violet blood falls from storm clouds; smells like copper and regret. **New Active 2: Blood Hurricane (Lv. MAX)** - **Cost:** 100,000 MP - **Cooldown:** 10 min - **Effect:** Summon 500m-radius blood tornado (Pulls enemies in; 10,000 slashing/bleed dmg/sec; Shreds immortality). Allies inside gain +200% speed/healing; launches them as projectiles. - **Flavor:** Spinning vortex of razor blood; howls like drowning gods.

The arrow brushed my cheek, light as a breeze. I stopped. For a second, I didn’t feel anything. No pain. Just a scratch. But then my vision tilted. A thick burn began to spread across my skin where the arrow had touched. My legs wobbled. The muscles in my chest tightened. I gasped but no air filled my lungs. I staggered back, reaching blindly for something to steady myself, but the trees around me spun like a storm. The scratch darkened into something unnatural. Ash black and curling across my jawline like poison veins.

I felt truly worthless. As the hunter swung his sword, an arrow flew and embedded itself deep into his neck. Everything was so vivid to me. I noticed the dark green color of the arrow. It looked like a fresh tree branch or rather that of a sapling. I also noticed the contrast as the arrow burst into the neck of the hunter with a splash of bright red blood. The hunter reached for his neck with his free hand. His sword fell from the other hand. The hunter moved his hand to his neck to staunch the blood but of course his efforts where futile and the blood spurted through his fingers and painted the grass red.

Bloodless. Instead, we walked straight into a trap as perfectly orchestrated as a spider's web. The first arrow struck the massive oak inches from my head with a solid thunk that reverberated through the night air. Splinters of bark exploded across my cheek, the sharp fragments drawing thin lines of blood. I froze, every instinct in my body flaring to life like struck matches. My enhanced senses exploded outward, cataloging threats, escape routes, the positions of our attackers based on the arrow's trajectory.

I shoved Shaun forward, pushing him out of the way, but this put me where he had been standing, and before I could swiftly dodge, the arrow found its mark in the flesh of my shoulder. Wild, hot pain zipped through my brain, consuming my every thought. My legs wobbled underneath me, before crumbling like ruined ash and bringing me to my knees. A loud sound kept pouring into my ears over and over again. It was my screaming. The last thing that crossed my mind before the darkness was the thought of how a normal arrow shouldn't have hurt so much. — “ . . . Losing blood.” “ . . . Arrow was poisoned.” “Wolfsbane?” “They got away again, damn it!”

The boss smirked at the little kid who desperately tried to stop his own blood from spilling and commanded each of the six individuals to pack up as they all headed out "Don't bother killing the kid. Just leave that orphaned garbage here and let's burn everything down. This boat needs to disappear along with these orphaned traitors. Let the kid share his traitor brother's watery grave." As Michael sat on the waste bags, the boss took off his gloves and threw them in the speedboat that they used, meanwhile revealing the tattoo of a black and red crescent moon on the back of his hand. Michael awaited the group of killers to get in the boat and leave while he tried to press on his wound a littl

My mother screamed—the correct reaction. “What the fuck?” Sara, my sister, gasped as she walked into the room and squatted next to our father. A large puddle of blood had formed by his face, seeping out from his mouth and nostrils. She pulled a dart out of his arm and smelled it. “Wolfsbane,” she said. “How ironic,” I responded. “What?” She looked at me, confusion on her face. “Well, it was his idea to use wolfsbane darts in battle. It’s pretty ironic that that’s how he dies in the end, eh?”

Placing the aura arrow onto the string of my bow, I prepared to take aim. Amongst the assassins, one individual emitted the strongest aura, engrossed in devouring a massive leg of meat, utterly oblivious to the imminent danger. Setting my sights on this target, I focused my aim directly at the assassin's head, aligning the arrow for a precise shot. Drawing the bowstring, a surge of luminous blue aura coursed along the string, synchronizing with the arrow itself. The combined energies hummed in unison, ready to be unleashed toward its intended mark.