Blood Rage Kickstarter Novels & Stories

The room was filled to the brim with anger; then he let out a growl, kicking the table to the corner of the room. Rage clouded his vision, and his mind was consumed by the desire to destroy Rodrigo. He had never had such a thirst to rip someone’s head off. He could not help, but imagine what he would do to the fool called Rodrigo once he got his hands on him. Ryland ran a hand through his hair, his fingers dug into his scalp as he gripped his hair, hoping the pain would ease the flaming anger. Kael clawed and roared, threatening to break free and Ryland squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control.

At least I had control over it right now. "The reason I can't accept Blake is because his father is the reason my family are dead. It was his father who intiated the attack on my pack and he made sure there were no survivors."

The way her body molded to his, the way she pressed herself against him, it was too much. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of my rage. The need to kill, to destroy, surged through me like a tidal wave, but I fought it back. I couldn’t kill him, not yet. Not with her in the room, not with her watching. But the urge was there, simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to break free at any moment.

This was a battle without any exotic armor, so it was not following the usual route of wearing down your opponent’s armor’s durability first. This battle was a battle of skill, a battle where the disparity between high-grade warriors was more exposed and defined. Any slight mistake could cost your life. The Bloody Fighter was not prepared to go down so easily, as he finally started executing his divine battle art, The Blood Rage. This divine battle art, as its name implied was derived from knowledge gotten after a lengthy examination of an exobeast’s rage awakening. It followed a precise set of principles, and it could significantly increase brute strength when executed.

That dude is behind all bloodshed in the city, I tell you. ''You know, Prince, from my near encounter with the killer at the Central Ward, the killer in question is not a man,'' Donovan cut in, as he summoned up courage to speak out. ''We're dealing with some female psychopath running wild out there with a goal in mind: to kill. Jack might not be in the picture after all.'' ''Cut that crap, fella. Cut that crap,'' Salim yelled again, reacting to Donovan's submission. ''Jack spoke with me on phone and left a nasty message a day before I received this fucking threat. I ain't mad, dude.''