Avenger Of Blood In The Bible Novels & Stories

It didn’t get its name for nothing. Nicholas walked with Callie at the front of the group, keeping the Holy Lance in hand. Beelzebub’s blood had stained the wood black and she tried to ignore it. She didn’t know how the Horseman’s blood would affect the spear. Would it twist it from being divine to damned? Or was the Messiah’s blood still more powerful? She didn’t know and it bothered her. Until they could get to Lucifer’s Grace, it was their best weapon against any demon they might come across.

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.

Rowan’s silver knife flashed through the smoke and cut across Caleb’s arm as he reached for him. Blood fell onto the snow. The ground opened beneath Alexander. As he dropped into the dark, the shrine voice whispered from below, “The second debt accepts the king’s blood.”

The Dravens danced death in tandem, one striking while the other bound the fallen in chains of illusionary torment. But it was Ava who turned the tide. As the last bishop raised a staff crackling with soul-fire, she stepped forward, Alexander's eyes locking onto the flame. "Remember the Thirteenth," she whispered, and pricked her thumb on her dagger, smearing a single drop of blood across our son's forehead. The bishop's spell recoiled, inverting into a maelstrom that flayed him from the inside out, his screams a symphony of unraveling immortality.

“You think she believes it? “She doesn’t need to believe it,” I reply. “She just needs us to.” Mateo walks in then, holding a tablet. “I found something. The inscription—‘When blood betrays blood’—it’s not new. It’s from the Codex Sangue. A prophecy written by the Vatican centuries ago. It warns of a bloodline cursed by its own union.” I meet his eyes. “Whose bloodline?” He hesitates. “The Moretti lineage.”

Her faint smile increase as she realized how it had suddenly made her prepare for the afterlife until a quote caught her attention. For this is a day for the Lord God of host, a day of vengeance! The smile wiped off her face as she stared at the ceiling blankly. Seconds ago, she was determined to die now she doesn't know if she really wants to still avenge herself instead of Leaving "Vengeance to God" as the Bible had said.

Pinned. Apollo held him aloft, the full weight of him skewered and lifted, the man’s blood already spilling freely, hot and thick as it surged from the wound and ran down along the curve of the horns. It poured onto Apollo. Across his face. Down his throat. Over his chest and shoulders in heavy, steaming sheets that struck his skin and slid along the lines of muscle and armour, the heat sharp and immediate against flesh already burning with Devilfire. It painted him in fresh violence, until he stood not as a king of Hell, but as one of its ancient gods, risen blood-soaked from a sacrament no heaven would dare claim.

"One alpha said it clear. Your blood is the shield and the sword. I am the muscle but you are the miracle. Fits us perfect." Avery grinned. "Miracle. I like that. The blizzard is done. Sun is breaking through the window. How does your body feel overall? Ready to drive out?" "Ready and charged," I said, standing up slow. "The visions gave me energy too. No weakness left. Avery, this bloodline secret. It means you are the key they feared. The enforcer wanted your names because of this." "Exactly," she replied, grabbing our jackets. "Now we make them regret waking it. Tell me more on the move. What battles did you see that we can copy?"

Blood welled, bright red, human red. Darius hissed, recoiling as though burned. The runes on the walls flared again, crimson to silver to white-hot. The tome on the altar burst into flame, not consuming pages, but illuminating them in stark relief. Words appeared, new words, hidden until blood touched the stone: The bridge bleeds willingly. The chain breaks only to re-forge stronger. Darius’s eyes widened. Elara clutched her bleeding hand to Kael’s wounded arm, pressing palm to wound.

Blood. There were quite a lot of red stains, even stretching faintly like traces left behind by someone walking while injured. Several servants were busy cleaning it. Robert stopped walking. His expression shifted slightly. “Whose blood is that?” One of the servants immediately lowered his head nervously. “It belongs to the person who fed the dogs earlier, Sir.” Robert looked at the servant expressionlessly. “Bitten?” “Yes, Sir.” The servant answered carefully. “The dogs got loose while being fed.” Robert fell silent for a few seconds.