Avenger Of Blood Bible นิยาย & เรื่องราว

No one played Sven for a fool. *** Ava materialized in the middle of the fight. Vampire versus werewolves and vampires versus vampires. Both sides came toward her, neither sure on which side she belonged. With her body back to being a shadow with form, she walked through them unharmed, looking for the binding rune. She had found it where she had least expected it.

“So what did the den hens have to say?” “The Coming Sun is Raven the blood caster of the Holy Clan. The new general is to be that sniveling brat Bradford and his wife, the adored lost queen is back and assuming her role. Everything is just peachy for the Bloodchild clan.” His arched eyebrows made him appear mischievous matching the arch of his upturned nose. He played with the long thick tendrils of her wavy hair.

The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age, but the script inside was surprisingly legible. She flipped through it, her breath catching as she read the first few lines: "To those who follow, beware. The Blood King walks a path of shadows, tethered to the Crimson Fated by fate and fire. Their union will either save us or doom us all." Aria’s heart raced as she scanned further. The entries spoke of Lucian Draevan, the Blood King—a name she recognized from old hunter lore. He was a vampire lord from centuries past, known for his ruthlessness and enigmatic disappearance after a great war.

Across the silver network, billions of human minds cried out in unison as the raw, kinetic force of the blow cascaded through their shared consciousness. Then, an eerie, suffocating silence returned. Ava stared upward, her hands gripping the edges of the platform. She was unable to breathe, unable to move, her eyes wide as she looked at the silhouette against the sky. Elias slowly looked down at the weapon buried in his chest. For a long, agonizing moment, nobody dared to speak. Then, a dark luminescence began to seep from the wound. Blood appeared. It was a radiant, pristine silver—ancient blood, the very first blood ever shed in the history of creation.

"I can testify, too. I saw Dr. Morrow perform surgery on this gentleman." "The surgery on your father was done by these two. I heard them talking. This woman grabbed the wrong clamp and severed your father's major artery." Giselle never imagined a third person knew the truth. She blurted, "It wasn't intentional. He didn't avoid it." The attacker, piecing together the situation, glared at Giselle. "My father had general anesthesia. How could he avoid it? You scum! You killed my father, and now you want to frame others?"

she continued, voice dripping with poisonous sweetness, “this isn't just about survival. It’s about devotion. Show me who truly deserves the Gates name. Show me who’s willing to stain their hands for my approval.” She snapped her fingers. The gate at the far side of the arena creaked open—and two long blades were tossed inside, clattering to the ground between the brothers. “Begin,” she whispered, eyes gleaming. “Let the blood speak.”

bearable. "Well, I liked to think of myself as an ascetic," she said. "An ascetic?" I looked up from my book with a raised eyebrow. "Like those Indian gurus who starve themselves to free their souls?" "Something like that," she just shrugged. "Maybe I should be an anorexic vampire then," I murmured to myself. Octavia muffled a laugh. "We're half-blood," she said, "We don't feed off humans." "Doesn't come naturally to me," I said. "Didn't you just say I'm quite different?"

We all had. But that didn’t make it easier. People assumed that killing came naturally to Alphas. That violence was something we relished, and that it fed the beast inside us. Yes, being an Alpha automatically meant having a beast within but they were not exactly right. I had taken my first life at thirteen. It was a rogue who had attacked my mother during a border skirmish. I had acted on instinct, ripping his throat out before I’d even fully processed what was happening. The smell of the blood surrounded me and instead of filling me with pride, all I felt was shame.

“The police should be investigating crimes that actually harm humanity.” Her lips twitched. “Are you religious?” I went quiet. “I was… once.” Back when my wife was alive, I did. Back then, I believed the Blood Goddess would guide us to a true victory, but not now. The Blood Goddess was a vicious creature of the night, the progenitor of all vampires, but she cared no more for her children than most humans cared for theirs. “Your answer to my question seems too simple,” I said. “Defeated.”