Bloody Painter X The Puppeteer Novels & Stories

“What you’re doing is illegal.” “So is sucking the blood from innocent humans!” Jo retorted. “Or at least it used to be! Before President Crimsoncrotch and his cronies took office. Look. At. Me.” Slowly, the monster lowered his arm, revealing the steel grey eyes that assured Jo one pull of her trigger would end him. She didn’t hesitate. As he opened his eyes to make another plea for his life, her finger flinched, pulling back the tiny piece of metal that let fly a larger projectile, this one exploding between his eyes and leaving him staring into her own blankly for a half a second before he dissipated into a pile of black ash, mingled with piss.

Tommy walked over to Iris and pulled her hand slowly toward the table. He then took out a knife and suddenly slashed her index finger. The movement was so fast that Iris herself didn't have time to wince in pain. "Only the blood of Hunters can kill demons. And you are a Hunter, Iris. You are destined to possess that blood to exterminate demons." Eva said while collecting Iris's blood drop into a stainless steel container. Iris winced in pain as Tommy deliberately pressed hard against the incision on her index finger to force the blood to stop flowing out. Then he wrapped the incision with a cloth and gave her a lemon.

With his clever roots, he escaped the fight while controlling the moonlight. "NO!" Jemma ran at me, choking me half to death with his sharp nails, my throat bleeding now. He blocked my attempt to grab the dagger in Alex's hand. But Jay swiftly clawed Alex's back, knocking him down. I took the dagger and sliced Alex's hand. Thick black blood gushed out, including on my face. The blood was connected to the creatures. Alex and Jemma craved immortality with evil magic, drinking the blood of the newly dead and turning them into evil spirits in ugly forms.

I watched as it screamed in agony, its body convulsing as if it were being burned from the inside. The pressure on my shoulders lessened, and I seized the opportunity. With a swift movement, I grabbed my dagger and plunged it into the puppet’s heart. The puppet let out a final, piercing scream before going completely still. I pushed its lifeless body off me and lay there for a moment, gasping for breath. Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. As I sat up, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. The puppet's hair, now splayed out on the ground, was a familiar shade of auburn. My heart pounded as I leaned closer, my eyes widening in shock. I reached out with trembling fing

It seemed to appear out of thin air, the thick, viscous blood flowing endlessly from within the puppet's form. Gradually, the blood began seeping into the puppet's eyes, nose, and other facial features, making it look exactly like a desperate, helpless person filled with hatred who wanted revenge but was powerless to achieve it. "I'll kill you, Stanley. I must kill you and make you feel the same torment and suffering I endured…" The puppet's voice grew weaker but more venomous with each word. Stanley burst into maniacal laughter that echoed through the tomb like the sound of a madman celebrating his victory.

She just wanted to be the Alice who blended in at school, not this hybrid drowning in a tangle of forbidden desires and buried secrets. A sudden surge hit her—her fingers tingled, nails lengthening, sharpening, as panic flooded her chest. She gasped, collapsing onto her bed, hands clutching the quilt, heart racing. Her senses flared—too sharp, too alive—catching a wild scent, like fur and blood. A vision slammed into her: a sterile lab, a baby crying, needles glinting, Samuel’s voice—her father’s—hissing, She’ll be our weapon. Her wrist burned, and she yanked up her sleeve, gasping at a faint scar she’d never noticed, shaped like a crescent moon with claws, glowing faintly. The vision shifte

The groom mounting the bride on a throne of corpses. My hand moved faster than my mind. I dipped the brush deeper, harder, tearing at the canvas like I was cutting flesh. I mixed the reds and blacks until they bled together, thick and viscous. The eyes I painted stared back, wide and lifeless. The flowers were rotting. The sky dripped gore. A massacre. And I smiled. They wanted a masterpiece? I’d give them one they’d never forget.

I see the way the energy isn’t flowing evenly anymore. And I see the center. That concentrated signature. Not Arachne’s magic. Not stable. It spikes again. Wild. Then it slams down. I feel something close to excitement curl in my stomach. Not joy. Not happiness. Something sharper. “She doesn’t have control over it,” I murmur. “Over the child?” Carter asks. “Over what the child is becoming.” Abomination. The signature flickers like a bad lightbulb. Erratic. Emotional. I imagine the girl inside that house. Helena’s daughter. Unaware. Untrained. A loaded weapon with no safety on.

The moment I spoke, the shadows in the supply room seemed to come alive. The dim space instantly turned ink-black. “Here it comes! High-energy alert!” “The big beast is transforming! Hold on, little female lead!” “We all knew it was coming, but seeing it is still shocking!” “How is this a monster? This is clearly a work of art!” I knew Henry was not human, but I never expected the visual impact to be this intense. In the darkness, several thick black tendrils, formed from condensed shadows, emerged from behind him, swaying in the air.

Balls And waves of red hot fire and golden flames flew like raindrops, knocking its target. The patrols fought for their lives, slashing and trusting their spears and swords to the enemies. Bong and Bato were fighting back to back a black wolf but suddenly the grasses on their feet grew and wrapped them. They helplessly cut the grasses but they just keep growing. Seizing the opportunity, the wolf lunged at the both of them and bit their head off. Bato's perfectly round and shiny head rolled on the ground and was squashed to pulp by a Reaper. Rila stared in horror at her friends. She picked a dagger from her hips and threw it on the plant Badblood. The dagger sunk perfectly on the forehead.