Bursting Forth Of Blood Novels & Stories

Bursts of incredible energy shot out in waves as the forest around them bent and broke. The commander coughed up blood, and the halberd fell from his hand. There was a long and deep sword slash on his chest that was gushing out with blood.

His admission hung heavy in the air, a bitter truth staining the room. Closing my eyes, I felt the first wave of agony wash over me, the telltale sign of new life eager to enter the world. "Ah!" I cried out, the pain lancing through me as I clutched at my abdomen. A pool of crimson spread beneath me, staining the ground as my body trembled with exertion. "Blood... so much blood..." I gasped, my voice barely a whisper as I stared in horror at the evidence of my body's struggle.

Damn. My heart pounds frantically in my chest as I feel something wet and sticky between my legs. With trembling hands, I reach down, my fingers coming away slick with crimson, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. God, why am I bleeding? Horror washes over me as I realize what's happening, and I feel bile rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. The blood continues to flow, staining the pristine floor beneath me in dark, ominous streaks, a stark contrast against the polished surface.

Then the Blood Oath's power surges with renewed viciousness, pushing my body past its breaking point. My vision goes black around the edges as every system in my body screams in protest. I feel myself swaying, feel consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers.

Suddenly, a sharp, white-hot heat flared deep inside my chest. My hidden royal bloodline magic woke up with a sudden, painful force, reacting to the heavy surge of competitive adrenaline inside my veins. The fire rushed up my throat, thick and burning. The bitter taste of copper flooded my tongue. I tightly clamped my mouth shut, pressing my hand over my lips as I leaned against the wooden desk. I forcefully swallowed the hot blood down, my teeth grinding together until my jaw ached. I pulled up my grey sleeve and looked at my wrist; the golden threads of my royal veins were pulsing with a bright, liquid light.

Their bodies began to shake violently as it jerk uncontrollably while blood started pouring from their noses, mouths, eyes, ears, and even their fingertips. As the blood flowed from the three children, it did not touch the ground. Instead, the crimson droplets hovered in midair as if it was controlled by an unseen force. Slowly, the blood drifted across the clearing and gathered above the ritual table before pouring itself into the empty bowl resting at its center. The bowl began vibrating violently, and faint crimson symbols slowly emerged across its surface. “Vareth na solum iraka ven… Morath el’shira ven torak nai…

It was powerful and destructive enough to tear a person's body into pieces. "Puff..." A mouthful of blood finally spurted out at this time. This mouthful of blood was extremely shocking. It carried with it a strong tearing aura as it left a deep hole in the ground.

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

Quenten Yilmaz: Blood. Violence. Gut-wrenching, paralyzing screams. They follow me everywhere, including in my sleep. It’s like a reel of snippets flashing before my very eyes. Splatters of blood paint the walls. Screams of terror intertwine and become a single, continuous harmony of devastation that rings in my ears. Flashing balls of light ignite in the dark as illuminated bullets slice through the air, hitting everything in their path. Men drop to the ground swiftly, followed by a hush of silence.

I try to say something, but before I can speak I start coughing and Victor helps me, I bend over as blood comes out with each cough. After several times feeling this pressure in my chest and getting weaker each time, I then taste rotten meat and make a greater effort and soon a ball of muscle, blood and hair comes out of me and falls to the ground. "Fuck!" I hear Ishtar's voice. "Some Necromancer has Soren's blood!" As soon as this grotesque thing comes out of me, I can feel Strïth coming back, and his anger is palpable. Then, before I can say anything, I see Ghost start to bend over, bringing his hand to the middle of his chest, the smell of his blood spreading as it starts to drip from his