Bloodborne The Good Hunter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I reached out with my left hand, and a searing lash of red energy whipped across the flooded room. A harpoon fired. The bolt hissed and aimed for Lucian’s heart. My red lash intercepted it, melting the silver tip into molten droplets before it could touch his skin. The Hunter didn't flinch at all, he reached for a second bolt. "Sloane! Now!" I yelled. Sloane dove beneath the surface. She emerged behind the Hunter like a shark, her knife finding the gap in his vest. The Hunter let out a stifled grunt as they tumbled into the stagnant water.

This gave Sebastian a much-needed surge of energy, and he dodged another bullet from one of the shocked hunters. Fucking noobs. It must have been his lucky day. Experienced hunters would never let their guard down with a vampire, even a wounded one. Bash’s skin sizzled as the sun crept higher up the horizon. He tackled the hunter wearing a yellow t-shirt who had shot him in the shoulder and snapped his neck like a twig, pulling his head right off in one fluid motion.

"Don't thank me yet. These hunters are professionals. Well-equipped. This isn't a random attack—they knew exactly when to strike." We reached the hospital grounds to find two hunters already inside, one dead on the floor with his throat torn out—Emma's father's work, I recognized the killing style. The third was backing toward the safe room entrance, flamethrower raised. He saw us and smiled. "Two for the price of one. Wolf and vampire." He triggered the flamethrower. Fire erupted, a wall of flame between us and him. Lord Castellan moved through it like it didn't exist—vampires could tolerate fire briefly—and had the hunter disarmed and on the ground in seconds. The man's neck snapped with a

my hand were full of her blood. I looked up when a werewolf hunter standing near the trees caught my attention and...and he was holding a gun of silver bullet!

CAIN POV My blood runs cold when I turn around after killing the hunter who shot at me. Miracle came in the way and took the hit, that’s all I can think about. My eyes instantly find her body lying on the bloody ground. Her turquoise eyes are half closed and she is blinking repeatedly to fight the drowsiness. Everything stills for me for a moment. I find myself rooted on the spot and staring right at her human form. ‘ Silver. It must be a silver bullet. ’ Hunter whimpers and I finally snap out of the daze.

Cold, sharp, and full the smell of blood and gunpowder. The Wild Hunt still circled, watching but staying out of it, as if waiting. A hunter stepped out of the trees, rifle raised, pointed right at her. Time slowed down. Tamara saw his finger tighten. Saw the muzzle flash. Heard the shot. The silver light burst from her, a shield of moonlight. The bullet vaporized into sparks. The hunter's eyes widened behind his mask. “She's here! The Moon Blessed is here!” More hunters appeared. Five, ten, fifteen, all armed and aimed at her.

“Four. Maybe five. One of them’s bleeding bad. It burned him when it touched him.” Burned. Her jaw tightened. “Show me.” They ran. The quarry sat just beyond the marsh, a bowl of cracked stone half-swallowed by moss and water. Elise smelled it before she saw it—a sharp, sour scent that didn’t belong to any animal she knew. The hunters were clustered near a fallen slab. One lay on the ground, shaking violently. Blackened veins crawled up his arm like spilled ink beneath the skin. Another hunter pressed both hands over a wound on his side, blood seeping through his fingers.

You can tell from his awkward steps and the way he’s holding his hand across his bloody chest that he’s not going to last. Just then, a man slips out of one of the vehicles, approaches Hunter, and shoots him in the chest and head. Mal and I cry out when we see Hunter’s body collapse lifelessly onto the ground. “Oh, God, Hunter! No, Hunter!” Mal cries out as she rises from her hiding place and makes to run. Taking her by the forearm, I pull her away. “No, Mal, they’ll kill you too.” Mal’s chest heaves with sobs as she watches the men take Hunter’s body and toss it into the river like garbage.

*** The gunshot echoed through the underground cage like a divine punctuation — the kind that closed a chapter permanently. Ziko’s body slumped forward, lifeless, crimson blooming across his chest like a cursed rose. Hunter stood still as his men: trained, merciless, silent, stepped in and cleaned up the mess. Not a single command was needed. They knew the drill. Blood was part of the foundation down here. Hunter lit a cigarette, the smoke curling from his lips like a hissed warning to anyone daring enough to cross him next. The bitter flavor of rage hadn’t dulled at all. If anything, it grew sharper with every passing second.

The vampire turns around, pulling a smoking pistol from under his cloak, aiming it at the hunter, who is examining his wound. A few quiet pops. Bullets fly out of a shiny case, decorated with hieroglyphs. The shells fall, slightly smoking purple. Oval pieces of metal dig into the shoulders, chest, the last bullet enters the knee. The hunter falls, flesh tearing from the explosions inside the body. There is rage in his eyes. Green smoke envelops the hunter, wounds heal poorly, charge components interfere with magical regeneration. The vampire takes off, reloading his pistol on the move, immediately disappearing behind the nearest columns. The hunter stands up, pulling a short spear with a wid