Bloodstained Techniques Mga Nobela at Kwento

I let my eyes move across the table, watching their silent reactions. “But it’s the vampires that disturb me more,” I continued, voice soft but clear. “The killer used a forbidden method, death by full blood drainage. No tears, no marks of force. Just… empty. And the way the blood was drained wasn’t just to kill, it looked ceremonial. Intentional. As if someone is trying to ascend… or become something, someone, supernatural.” I stopped there, keeping the rest of my findings close to my chest. I didn’t trust them enough to give more. The room had fallen dead silent.

Sharper this time. I swallowed. My hands were shaking. I hugged my sketchbook tighter. He exhaled through his nose. Looked at the blood on his knuckles like it had personally offended him. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a black bandana, and started wrapping his hand. I watched, stupidly mesmerized. “Why were you there?” I asked quietly. His eyes flicked to mine. “I was passing through.” “Twice in two days you’ve ‘passed through’ exactly where I am.”

He didn’t want to kill Professor Jackson of course, but the man was so powerful that unless Mane approached him with the intent to kill, he had no chance of winning. All the Mane’s years of trying to master the Bloodied Blade arts had led him to an ultimate technique called Reaper’s Call. Unlike Prideful Sword that had its set skills which could be studied, emulated, and mastered as long as one was sharp enough, Bloodied Blade art required that the user incorporated his understanding into the techniques. It took Mane months to master Crazed Cut of the Blade King, a year to master Reaper’s Dance, and another year to master Reaper’s Edge. It was after mastering these three that the door to the

Cadell Marcus squeezed a magic technique, called the slashing ghost technique, and inserted it into the chest of the corpse. After this move, the body seemed to be electrocuted. It shot out in a moment, fell into the refrigerator again, and entered the body of the ghost that was slashed by this ghost trick soulful eyes scattered. After the corpse had just been blown away, the entire morgue was quickly covered with groups of gloomy demonic weapons. From within those refrigerators, black mist continued to flow towards Cadell Marcus gathered here, Cadell Marcus frowned, thinking in his heart. "There are quite a few dirty things in this morgue, there are actually ten of them."

She flinched as if he had slapped her. The flinch was useful. Let her remember she was a tool while she tried to become my replacement. I forced my hands to uncurl. My nails had cut half-moons into my palms. Blood rose in the beam, bright and stubborn. It did not pixelate. That mattered. I turned my wrist and smeared the blood across the white light nearest my stomach. The beam resisted. It pushed back with cold pressure, trying to lift the blood away, categorize it, convert it into data.

Trapped on a base with other soldati, I had no say in the matter. Some days he came to watch. To teach me. To assess my technique. The dickhead must have found out about me fucking Robbie. This was penance. "Nicely done, Goremaster," Marino finally complimented after months of the same routine. The floor was littered in blood splatter and human organs. I was drowning in the coppery fluid myself. My clothes were so soaked in blood that they clung to me like a second skin. Miraculously, after months of practice, I had perfected Marino's version of Lingchi. Against all odds, my victim was still alive.

“You...” The smile on St. Dmitri’s face instantly froze, and anger surged in his heart. “Do you think you can toy with me?!” As he spoke, he transformed and was once again shrouded in a bloody mist. “Blood Domain!” The blood mist spread rapidly, covering an area of dozens of meters. Within it, vague figures gradually condensed and moved swiftly. It was the perfect manifestation of St. Dmitri’s blood technique at its peak. At that moment, his strength, speed, and resistance to attacks were greatly enhanced.

He said to me, "Oh, that. Actually, I have a technique. The ingredients did not say full blood, remember. It needs a tinge of their blood. Grace and I would extract the blood from the tissue using a wet method. That way, we have a tinge of Melissa's blood in it." I responded smartly. "Oh. Okay. I hope that works." He responded to me. "So I take it you have gotten all on your part?" I asked him. "I am about to go acquire the last bits of ingredients and then we would have to get a bit of Kent's blood too." He said to me,

"My blood... for the glory of the Great Lord!" As his lifeblood flowed, he activated a forbidden technique. His muscular body began to swell unnaturally, his skin turning pitch-black as a thick, foul aura smelling of rotting flesh exploded from him.

"We are natural enemies, Elara. My blood remembers your grandfather’s blade. Your tech remembers my pack’s teeth." He stepped forward, closing the distance until the heat from his body felt like an oven. He took her wrist, his pulse thundering against her skin a frantic, wild rhythm that no machine could ever replicate. "But the enemy of my enemy is my only chance," he whispered. He bared his arm, the veins bulging and glowing with a faint, bioluminescent amber. "Do it. Before I lose the ability to ask." Elara pressed the injector against his skin. As the blue fluid entered his system, Kaelen’s entire body convulsed. He fell to his knees, a guttural roar echoing off the reinforced walls.