Blood Death Wish Novels & Stories

“Absolutely not!” His silence is answer enough, but the glint in his green eyes even more so. The bloody bastard is actually considering it. “I’m not drinking his blood. I'd rather die.” My fingers move on instinct, searching for the familiar scar on my wrist. They stop the instant they brush his hand. Right. I can't even reach it. “Is a death wish standard issue for all hunters, or are you just exceptionally eager to fill a grave?” I grit my teeth, refusing to be the first to look away. Once again, I'm doing exactly what the Order trained me never to do.

It tries to send the memory through her knees, her hands, her throat. Maya lets it arrive. Then she steps left. The dead follow sound and motion. They do not think. They do not plan. They do not fake low and attack high. They are patient appetite in a ruined suit. “Behind?” she whispers. Clear within twenty feet, LUS says. “Lovely.” The dead man reaches. Maya lets him commit, shifts inside the arc, hooks her foot behind his ankle, and drives the crowbar hard into the side of his knee.

He is so happy because he will finally be able to escape this chaotic world and they will be able to fulfill the simple dream of Akira and his as a normal couple. When he arrived at the condo, he immediately took a shower first to be able to clean and to make sure if he hadn't been scratched before. As the water flows through his body you can see the blood of his victims clinging to him gradually flowing into the sink. Azrael’s body is full of scars from his wounds from his previous missions and on his back is a large tattoo— “Deus Mortis” which in Latin means “God of death” is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished.

He bit his bottom lip, then slowly looked at the place behind me. “I’ve never done it to someone who is already dead” he muttered “m-my others were killed by one of yours. I need them.” “I’ll help you” I smiled to him “Soul Stealers have to stick together, remember?” Tears ran down Cosmo’s face before his face split into a smile. His wide eyes blindly surveyed the death dangling above him as he deeply inhaled the toxic gas, a cloud of it wafting out his nostrils when he exhaled. He held his arms out wide as he walked amongst the bodies around him, dripping his virus onto their dissolved remains.

[Death Dog- Elite rank] Level 56 HP- 800 CON-80 ATK-380 STR-126 DEF-22 DEX-4 Speed-58 AGI-58 Mana-95 INT-19 [Skills- Perception(Mystic) Stealth(Elite) Dark Vision(R) Vision of the Pack(Mystic)] A Death dog is a two-headed hound that roams plains, caves and deserts. Hate burns in a death dog's heart and a taste for humanoid flesh drives it to explore the surface world, death dog saliva carries a foul disease that causes a victim's flesh to slowly rot off the bone.

Hybrid Corpse Seeker Preferred method to eliminate the assigned duties of Death. Can only be destroyed by a crossbow arrow to the thorax or sword through the spinal cord. Usually in the form of a Banshee. Rated 90% in kill success. "Did you learn any weaponry during my prison years," I asked him curiously and he stared at me with an open mouth. I shook my head and patted his back. "I'll teach you how to fire a medieval crossbow, I know how to sword fight already," I mumbled confidently. Rai looked at me and frowned.

The crashing sound crawled into the inside of my head yet not once silenced the other thoughts I couldn't escape. I raked my fingers through my hair, my head dropped down as my hands traveled to the base of my neck. They shook with that old urge, that gnawing impulse that clipped through my nerves, the desire to slip into oblivion, the need to spill blood and kill. I tried to breathe as my hands dropped down and my eyes met the sky again. I nodded my head and made a promise I am not going to ever break. I will make sure to continue what we started. I whispered. I won't stop, I won't rest till they all pay for everything they've done to us over the years.

He had drunk the blood of those people while they had been alive and took away their souls after their death, turning them into wraith puppets to become part of his great powers. At this moment, he had nearly three thousand wraith puppets by his side! What kind of idea had this man come up with? This guy had killed at least three thousand people! He had devoured them fresh while they were still alive and had let them die in excruciating pain. It was extremely cruel. A terrible sin. For this kind of man to continue living, it was a stain on all of humankind. “You deserve to die!” Alex spat out coldly. The old man snorted coldly. “I don’t want to. You can donate your corpse instead!”

I thundered, trying to keep my voice steady. "Better to die than to live in defeat! Ivan taught me that, though he never understood the lesson himself.” He bellowed. The sirens were getting louder, and I could see flashing lights through the broken windows. The FBI was here, but they were too late. "This is your last chance," Vlad said, pulling out a lighter. "Join me in death, or die alone knowing you failed everyone you've ever loved." I looked at this man who shared my grandfather's blood, the Volkov's blood. Thirty years of hatred had turned him into something monstrous.

I want him to taste my wrath, to let him feel my overflowing thirst for vengeance. I stood and uttered an oath of lividity. Glowing fire surrounded me. I closed my eyes and started to mutter the forbidden enchantment I’ve learned. I know that this power formation would consume a big amount of my energy and could kill me, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if this hall would be my graveyard as long as I drag Ren Lancaster in hell. “Mea vita pro morte sua… Mea vita pro morte sua…” I uttered again and again, my hand parallel to each other, and on its center is the formed symbol of death on fire.