Bloodsoaked Champion Novels & Stories

“He touched what’s mine. Now he needs to learn the price.” He turned and left her standing there, holding the water glass, her skin burning where he had touched, the lines between enemy, asset, and obsession dissolving into terrifying, thrilling nothingness. The hunt for her sister’s killer was now a twisted tango in a silent war, and her dance partner was the most dangerous man in the city.

At the makeshift arena, Venom faced the enhanced champion across a circle marked in chalk on the concrete. The champion stood motionless, his physique dwarfing even Venom's supernatural frame. When he moved, he moved with the fluid precision of someone whose every muscle had been scientifically optimized. "Begin," Kozlov's voice echoed from the speakers. The champion attacked with calculated brutality, aiming for maximum damage with each strike. Venom barely managed to dodge the first punch, as the displaced air from the blow ruffle his hair. However, the second caught him across the ribs and sent him staggering backward with what felt like several cracked bones.

she added, leaning closer, her presence a jagged edge in Alice’s chest. The lights flickered, and a surge of heat ripped through Alice’s veins, her hands glowing faintly, strength pulsing in her fingers. Another vision hit: Samuel under the gym lights, a ritual circle flaring, her powers erupting, blood soaking the floor as packs clashed. Her scar burned, and she stumbled, Kane’s arm catching her, his grip firm. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his crimson eyes locking hers, grounding her.

“Alright. Lance you and Dylan take the two alive rogues to the barn. Randy take the rest, patrol the area, make sure there are no more.” “Yes Alpha.” they all ring out in unison and disperse. Armi and I are left there with the dead rogues. We wait and watch as they shift back, then search the dead bodies. We flip over a couple and check them thoroughly. Sure enough, Lance was right. “There are Silver Rock warrior tattoos on each one of them.” Armi says through gritted teeth. “Not a bad play, they even smelled like rogues. They all have.” I voice. “Can’t argue with that,, unfortunately.”

He puts lids on them and straws and then holds the cup out to me and says, “You’re welcome to it, if you want it.” I’m hesitant, but my grumbling tummy doesn’t give me much of an option. As I take the cup from his hands, my fingers brush against his and I’m alarmed by how cold they are. It felt colder than ice and I wish I could hold his hands and warm them up in mine. He tells me, “We get the blood from blood drives or animals we’ve caught in the forest. We try hard not to have to drink from tap. Especially with humans, although, some of us has more restraint than others.” He rolls his eyes with that last sentence and I can’t help but wonder what he means by that. Who has less restraint? I

He kicks and punches and mauls him everywhere, working with an animalistic grace which defies even my wildest imaginations. Before long, Bobby’s grunts of pain fills the mini theatre. Even when he collapses and taps the ring over and over in a sign of defeat, Mason still doesn’t stop. The wild, devilish glint of his eyes looks all too familiar. At that moment, he’s not Mason Lachlan the billionaire. He’s Mason, The Grim Reaper. Then I hear the announcer say; “And we have a tap out, people!! Oh my God, this is insane! Our six time champion just tapped out from the match. Will his opponent give him a chance to live or will he finish him off?”

I tightened my grip and replied calmly, “Don’t worry. Even if I strangle a piece of trash like you with my bare hands, those snipers won’t be able to stop me. Trust me—I’m no rookie either.” I raised my voice, locking eyes with him. “Still haven’t figured out what to say to save your pathetic life?” Suddenly, sirens blared in the distance. Dozens of vehicles were pulling up. Nathan, his voice hoarse and cracked, screamed, “You’re done for! They’re here now—just wait for the bullets! Mr. Andy Stormbringer will never let you live!” I clenched my hand even harder. But how could I let him die so easily?

Only he — the last Blood King — stood in chaos, no god, no ally, only an unfinished promise to the girl who disappeared. A blast. From afar, a squad of Hunter remnants appeared, armed with forbidden blood-spears. Lucien turned, eyes ablaze — crimson pupils reflecting hell’s mirror. “We meet again, sinners.” The commander roared, “Your blood ends the demon king’s age!” They charged. Lucien said nothing. His shadow blurred in mist, then shattered like a blade-streak. Movement became blood bursting, bones cracking, souls screaming. Ten seconds. Silence returned — only blood dripping, endlessly into void.

It turned out that people like them eventually meet someone worse. I lowered the brim of my cap and turned to leave, not wanting to be recognized. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. My leather shoe stepped on a dry leaf. Crunch. Brian's head snapped up. Our eyes met. His eyes went wide. Like he had seen a ghost. Or a savior. "Bro?!" That single shout drew everyone's attention. My dad looked up, too, a flicker of light in his eyes. "Chester… Chester!"

Just when we were about to be separated, the captain of the soldier and some of the pack soldiers were coming out of the room of the dead champion. “Prepare to mount this post tomorrow Borillo. We cannot have more champions dying” He said and Borillo nods his head in agreement. As they were walking out, they held the dead body of the champion and for some reason I begin to feel hotness in my chest. I checked to see the necklace was glowing and I gently tapped Dawson. “He was killed using sorcery” I whispered to him as we watched them vanish through the corner of the hall. “How did you know that?” Dawson asked in surprise.