Blood Hunters Game Novels & Stories

Henry growled, his eyes flashing with fury as he shifted into his werewolf form. "Sia, now!" he roared, launching himself at the nearest hunter. His claws tore through flesh and bone, his rage fueled by the sight of his injured mate. Sia joined the fray, her movements a blur of fury and strength. She fought with everything she had, her claws and teeth ripping through the hunters' defenses. But the humans were prepared, their weapons designed to combat werewolves. Despite their ferocity, the sheer number of hunters began to overwhelm them. Henry fought valiantly, his mind focused on getting Elizabeth to safety. But a well-aimed silver bullet struck him in the side, sending him crashing to the

For a moment, I felt nervous because I thought that I was back in the previous timeline, when the world was just beginning to collapse. “What are you hunters doing!? You should have watched over the beast. You should have—” Blood gushes out of his mouth when Mammon punches a hole in the human’s chest. He was gripping his heart with a sadistic grin on his face, not even bothering to hide the demonic side of his face anymore. The other civilians around them scream in terror, while the hunters are having a hard time deciding where to focus.

The hunters dodged and blocked with incredible precision, their movements like a deadly dance. But two hunters weren’t fast enough. One was stabbed in the eye, and the other in the thigh. The one struck in the thigh swallowed the cucasu leaf, her body convulsing violently before collapsing in a lifeless heap. The other was too slow to react. Arrows flew from the towers, and a nearby hunter drove a spear through his heart before the infection could spread. I gasped as one of the hunters suddenly turned toward me and Gib’s hiding spot. An arrow flew straight at us.

I repeat, my teeth clenched as I notice Hunter's grip on the gun tightens. "Of course, sir." She comments, running out of the room. With each moment ticking by, the Reaper's patience seems to diminish. Hunter cocks the gun, getting ready to shoot me. "I'm not a patient man, Mr. Westshire." Hunter exclaims, pulling back on the trigger. I close my eyes instinctively, anticipating feeling a bullet pass through me. When I don't I slowly open one eye, wondering why I'm not screaming out in pain. "Do you like to play games?" Hunter asks, his face void of emotion.

He was looking at a predator. Elara pulled the knife out. Her hands were covered in red. "Status Update," the melodic voice hummed in her earpiece. "Level 1 Hunter neutralized. Bonus multiplier active. Probability of survival: 18%." The Hunter slumped against the trash bags, gasping, his hands pressed to the wound. He wasn't dead—the Renaissance "Hunters" were wearing specialized trauma-gel layers—but he was out of the game. Elara stood over him, her chest heaving. She looked at the blood on the silver wolf. She should have felt sick. She should have been screaming.

Valentina stays human, weapons ready. The first hunter sees us coming. Raises his rifle. I'm faster. Hit him low, under the gun. Teeth find his throat before he can fire. Blood floods my mouth, hot and coppery. He goes down choking. Tom takes the second hunter. Rips the gun away, then the arm holding it. The hunter screams. Valentina stakes the third through the heart. Vampire hunter, dead before he hits the ground. Three down. Three left. The remaining hunters regroup. Smarter now. Backs together, covering angles.

strength in man. Bullets flew non-stop to Brawen, she dodged, slashed with her sword, combined with control of ice blocks to rush towards Code Silver Lord. Even though he was forced to focus on dodging the ice, the bullet didn't miss a single millimeter. It's true that top hunters are different. A moment later, that one person and one vampire had obvious signs of exhaustion, everyone took sides, white breaths flew up and was swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

Dad grunted, sighing heavily. “I don’t know, Dad.” I shook my head. I was also frustrated that I couldn’t find anything about these hunters, even a name. “They are humans. That’s for sure,” Shadow said, “They could have military service because they seem well-trained, meticulous, and organized, and they left without a trail to follow, just a brand on their victims.” “How are the victims killed?” Zack asked. “Silver bullets, burning, beheading—” Everyone gasped. “They also use crossbows but took arrows with them,” I added.

He pulled Alina behind a concrete pillar and returned fire. Precise. Controlled. Deadly. One hunter dropped. Then another. Lena moved like a shadow. Fast. Efficient. Her blade flashed once— Twice— Two more bodies hit the ground. The last hunter turned— And froze. Because the Ghost was standing behind him. The rifle pressed lightly against his head. The hunter’s breath trembled. “Wait—” A single shot. Silence. Alina’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “This is insane.” Arun reloaded calmly.

It wasn't the Blood Perfume—it was something much stronger and sinister. It was the smell of a Blood Hunter. Blood Hunters were a part of the Predators group. Whether it was day or night, until they succeeded, they would search for their prey. Anyone in their path was instantly in immortal danger. However, what I couldn't figure out, was why I was smelling it. It was the late morning, early afternoon, and the probability of one hunting during the day was relatively low. I'd know if either Leon or Mr. Loyal were Kindred or part of the Blood Hunters.