Novel & Cerita Bloody Painter X The Puppeteer

Not that he mind it. But now. He was sitting on the jungle floor, legs crossed, arms crossed. And he was pouting. He was thirsty for fucking vampire sake. And he wanted blood. Though Stephen asked him to take him, he refused. He wanted to learn it. And now after he saw how gracefully Stephen put a god damn cheetah in front of him without even a single strain of blood. And Callum . He was all covered in dirt without even a single strain of blood. "Ohh. Callum. Want to try or share"? Stephen came sitting beside him. He held his hand but Callum pushed it.

I have always heard rumors of Daphne and her crew placing bets and wagers on people but never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that I would be a puppet in one of their games. "You monsters! You're monsters!" I let out a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. I tried to launch myself at her, to claw that smug, knowing smile off her face, but my body betrayed me at the last minute. My legs buckled and I hit the floor hard, air ripping from my lungs as I choked, coughing until warm blood sprayed across the pristine white carpet beneath me. "Don't get it on the rug, darling," Xavier said, finally standing up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, shimmering vial and a syringe. "

We went by a couple of rooms, then the living room, the fireplace, treasure room and yes, he even showed me just how many bathrooms can fit an entire house packed with werewolves can possibly have, which was thoughtful enough for him. And then we found ourselves standing in a large room surrounded by an abundance of paintings. For a moment I was astonished at how these art pieces were crafted exquisitely and with finesse. I couldn't quite take my eyes off one of the paintings of a partially naked woman, and a nightshade black wolf both covered with blood lying lifeless on the ground. Everything about it somehow brought out the sorrow in me, allowing me to symphatize with whoever the painter

“I told you, didn’t I? I will put an end to that problem of yours. I’m not toying you, Katherine. Let’s say, I want to play a game with you.” “What’s the difference, huh? You want to play with me, it’s all the same!” “Toying you is different from playing with you. Toying you means I’m just the one who’s receiving all the benefits, meanwhile, if I say playing with you, you can cooperate and have your fair share of benefits in our game.” “Well then, Mr. Supernatural, I don’t want to play a game with you.” “It’s Helion. My name is Helion.” “I don’t care about your name at all.”

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

he said his eyes bloodshot and filled with resentment. “It will be fun.” He said as he laughed again. I gazed at him and moved my hand and slapped him on his cheek. He stopped laughing and moved his hand on his cheek. He gazed at his hand at the blood that trickled from the blow of the cuffs on my hands. He smirked at me as his cold eyes held mine. “How dare you..” he said as he gritted his teeth. Suddenly I felt a searing pain on my back. I cried in agony as I gazed at Claus. He smirked at me, his left hand holding a whip that I never saw him have it in the first place.

"Frak frak frak frak--" The Sovereign Corpse Puppet let out a few low and weird foreign words, then violently stood upright like a zombie, and then rushed to the purple-robed old man like lightning, and opened his mouth to reveal sharp fangs, biting at his neck. The purple-robed old man was shocked, and under his instinctive reaction, he raised his arm to resist, but he didn't expect the corpse puppet to bite on his wrist, immediately leaving four horrifyingly gruesome blood holes.

The battlefield around me blurred, the clash of claws and the scent of blood becoming a disorienting symphony. Alpha Draxler, undeterred by my waning strength, refocused on Trevor. A vicious slash, a grotesque ballet of violence, painted Trevor's chest in a vivid display of crimson. The scene unfolded in agonizing slow motion, each drop of blood a testament to the sacrifices demanded by our world.

"I said… In your dreams!" With that, I chomped down on Jonathan's ear and ripped a chunk clean off. Blood sprayed into the air as Jonathan kicked me away from him. Clamping a hand over his injured ear, he glared at me, his eyes blazing in fury. "You're dead, bitch!" He raised the knife and lunged at me, aiming straight for my chest. In that critical moment, the door to the factory was kicked open, and police officers swarmed into the building. The knife was knocked out of Jonathan's hand before he was tackled to the ground and successfully restrained.

I growled, the sound shook the glass of the chandeliers. The man’s face turned purple. Then he laughed a wet, gurgling sound. Blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, staining my fingers. Black veins crawled up his neck. And the bastard died smiling. I dropped the corpse. It hit the floor with a thud. Someone inside these walls had just declared war on the Luna. And I would paint the answers in their blood.