Bloody Painter X Puppeteer Novels & Stories

"That I have secret fangs and will drain every drop of blood from you like a vampire?" "Was that... your attempt at humor?" I arched an eyebrow. Was this fucker reading my mind? If yes... I couldn't risk a single thought around him. "No—was it yours when you painted Penelope's Obsession? Pretty sure she wasn't handing that vampire her blood—it was her soul he slowly bled dry." I froze. He... he knew that painting? That was one of my earliest works, barely noticed outside a small circle. How the hell did he...?

The puppet collapsed, neutralized, its red eye still glowing, still watching, still transmitting. He became a surgeon of violence. A blur of motion, breaking down Lorian’s living machines with a terrifying, dispassionate precision. He moved from one puppet to another, a ghost in the strobe lights, his hands a flurry of precise, debilitating strikes. The Fangs, seeing his example, adapted. The battle shifted from a panicked brawl to a grim, methodical dismantling.

"Oh I see. Then watch how I destroy you and everything you love" " You.. wouldn't " I stammered. "Really" he laughed, "remember who I am-JG". " JG...you're the famous JG" I stuttered hardly believing my ears. "Flesh and Blood.So Freddie, do what's right or else this is going to turn out way more than you expected" he said as he turned and walked away leaving me stunned and confused as ever.

Hunter tore into the puppets, his awakened power surging through him, cutting them down with terrifying efficiency. I turned to the nearest enemy, blade in hand, rage burning through me. The battle erupted in full force. The chamber rang with the clash of steel, the roar of warriors, and the shrieks of Evelyn’s puppets as they lunged with eerie precision. Lennon’s sword gleamed in the torchlight as he cut through the nearest puppet, its body jerking unnaturally before collapsing. Lennon moved with brutal efficiency, his twin daggers slicing through enemies like a shadow weaving through the fray. Xavier and Ralph fought side by side, their coordinated strikes a testament to years of training

Cheeks wet from the tears a soft sob escaping from her lips only to be unheard even by the guy who is in the same room or a basement she assumed as there was no window around. One after the other the drop of blood dripped on the bucket as the boy with the grey eyes kept on painting over the canvas. The canvas is painted with deep red as the same replica of the women tied on the chair. The only colour that was upon it was red of different shades with its background in black colour. “Naa~naa~na~na~na~Naaa~Naaa~Na~” the smile turns into a smirk as he takes a deep breathtaking scent of blood. Making him cover his mouth with the back of his hand still holding the brush.

As Ace flipped through the pages, the soft crackling of the paper filled the space. Ace's fingers moved skillfully over the pages, his eyes scanning each drawing with a mix of pain and yearning. As he turned the pages, I leaned in closer, mesmerized by his talent, my gaze fixed on his strong fingers gently handling each page. Each one unveiled a new design, a new narrative. On one page, I saw a boy gazing at a river, his face reflecting deep sorrow.

Upon receiving the signal, I leaped to my feet. When I appeared outside the window, Grandma's eyes widened in shock. She was so startled that she forgot to scold me. With just one glance, I saw a sight that would haunt me forever: In the dark, unlit room, there was a massive baby's face—its skin a sickly, bluish-gray, and its features twisted and grotesque. At that moment, Holly had that ghastly thing firmly in her grasp. "Quick! Your blood!" Holly was pale and weak from blood loss, but she refused to let go.

“Nightmare again?” I nodded, still trying to breathe. “Yeah.” Rhea crawled right into bed beside me without hesitation. “God, I thought we were past this phase. Please tell me it wasn’t blood again.” My throat tightened. “It was worse.” She blinked. “Define worse.” “I was painting.” That silenced her. Even Elias, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, went still. “Shit,” Rhea whispered, drawing her knees up under the blanket. “Like real painting? The creepy, possessed-style stuff? Full-on creepy gallery girl mode?”

The artist didn’t notice the tears that were on the edge of Sofia's eyes that were now in the painting. Gregorio approached another painting, where Miguel's face was. He stared at it intently. "What a nice masterpiece!" Gregorio left the room. Where the room witnessed what happened to the two teenagers. He went to his bedroom while carrying the two paintings. The artist approached the large black cabinet, where he kept the paintings of his victims. He opened the cabinet, flicked the switch and when the inside of the cabinet lit up, layers of paintings could be seen, placed under the feet of a small statue of Satan.