Avenger Of Blood Bible の小説・ストーリー

He smiled. “She kept him alive.” He poured a drink. “She always was curious.” He turned toward the chapel tower. “It’s time to write the last commandment.” ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — NEW ENTRY “Two sons. One made from love. One forged in vengeance. But the mother? She walks between them—not as a guardian. Not as a savior. But as the blade they both must answer to.” — Aria Valente De Rossi

Davon’s scent, usually a calming mix of pine and rain, was now laced with a sharp, metallic anxiety. He ran a hand over his close-cropped dark hair. "An inverted cross... a sacrifice... an unknown usurper," he murmured, his eyes narrowed as he processed the political and spiritual implications. "This is a direct assault on the Holy Bloodline. If this woman is real, and she is powerful enough to be shown to you in a vision, she is an apocalyptic threat."

End is bleak and the rise close The crimson Rukh and the guardian of the flame One who bleeds blue holds the fate of those Beware, every cheat has a price. Curse is on the name The end of the night is bleak and that is when the rise is close - a time right before dawn. The Crimson Rukh was the owner of Nirvana and the guardian of the flame must be her protector - Chosens were practically guardians in Rakhbar, so perhaps Ambrose was the Guardian of Flame! The one who bleeds blue… Only demonic monsters bled blue. Ambrose had red blood that only turned bluish when his demon had taken over so she knew demons had red blood but it turns blue when it is healing - It could be this child.

“But it’s not nobility, Aurora. It’s blood.” “It is blood,” I agreed flatly. “It’s my blood and theirs. If the ledger has to be balanced, let my hands shape the math.” I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the old animal certainty that had carried me through darker things than this. “I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t want you to be my avengers. I want to be my own retribution.”

“Blood, is the symbol of life and death, love. Angelic beings, as us. Don’t have blood, we don’t need it. Because we don’t eat, don’t drink, and hardly sleep. Now, given the blood.” Azreal’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Only if the blood was given freely, is dangerous.” His eyes flashed, making Ava became scared. “I turns us, there is never a proper term to called. But it's never good to be it.” Ava never thought that she would be scared. Not by anything that Azreal had ever talked about. She wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. Not in front of Michael the archangel. The man in charge of the clean up of what was happening in Spokane, Washington.

Anine asked. "Your daughter needs the blood of the deity on it. When he appeares in human form, give him a cut. Do not wrestle with him. Just a cut. The blood of that body he uses is the only thing that is needed on this sword. Ajonwa is a Spirit but he uses the body to wreak havoc. Get the blood on the sword and he would be no more. "He would kill me!" Anine said almost loudly. "Once his blood touches the sword, he would be rendered powerless and he will never use that body again. Can you do it? Consider the generation yet unborn and what he would do to them. Remember what he did to you, would you allow him to do it to another?"

Only Narvi, Bratvi and Vagris seemed uninfected. “How strong is this one-armed man?” Bratvi pierced the silence. “And why do you say the Father Cenam has a history with him?” High blade Vawn was the one to fall from his shock first. “The first time he showed up on the battlefield I lost two captains and twelve men, we also lost nine priests to him. These are figures we know of.” Sethlzaar could see a flicker of shock threaten to break Bratvi’s mask.

Shirer began to chant in the old religion, her voice rising and falling in a hypnotic cadence: "Sanguis, sanguis, vita mea Voco te, numina, ad me veni Protego te, Ava, ab tenebris Et ab omni malo, quod te circumdat" (Translation: "Blood, blood, my life I call upon you, divine power, come to me I protect you, Ava, from the darkness And from all evil that surrounds you As Shirer chanted, the air around us began to shimmer. A soft, pulsing light emanated from her hands, enveloping Ava's trembling form. The shape-shifter let out a deafening screech, its form dissipating into nothingness.

“Then we’ll give them something else to fear.” Darius crossed his arms. “You’re not alone anymore, Ava. Let the gods tremble.” Marcus gave a slow nod. “Let them come.” The seer placed a gentle hand on Ava’s shoulder. “Then it begins. The countdown to the blood moon. The war of old blood and new.” Ava looked toward the dark sky beyond the chamber’s stone ceiling, her eyes steady, her voice clear. “Let the gods watch. I was born of dusk and twin blood… but I will rise as something they never foresaw.”

He spread his arms, his voice deep: “From blood and darkness, I create a new order. The Crimson Pact is no longer just the Blood Emperor and the legacy of the one who sacrificed for this world!” At his feet, hundreds of half-blood beings, once human, now infected with blood, knelt. The chants rose in unison: “For blood! For Evelyn Cross!” Meanwhile, in the wasteland outside Valenfort, Callen Graves, the former Bishop of the Order, who was thought to be dead, was still alive. Half of his body was burned, he held a scorched bible and a test tube containing a drop of pale red blood. He looked towards the red light in the center of the city, laughing hoarsely: