Dalzollene Hunter X Hunter Mga Nobela at Kwento

I reached out with my left hand, and a searing lash of red energy whipped across the flooded room. A harpoon fired. The bolt hissed and aimed for Lucian’s heart. My red lash intercepted it, melting the silver tip into molten droplets before it could touch his skin. The Hunter didn't flinch at all, he reached for a second bolt. "Sloane! Now!" I yelled. Sloane dove beneath the surface. She emerged behind the Hunter like a shark, her knife finding the gap in his vest. The Hunter let out a stifled grunt as they tumbled into the stagnant water.

The fall was an eternity of cold air and the smell of ozone. Elara didn’t land like a superhero. She hit the heap of industrial trash bags in the alleyway with a bone-jarring thud that knocked the wind out of her lungs. For a terrifying five seconds, the world was nothing but grey plastic and the taste of copper in her mouth. Move, her brain screamed. Move or die. She rolled off the pile just as a heavy, metallic clack echoed above her. The Hunter hadn’t jumped—he was rappelling down the side of the building with a high-speed winch, his boots kicking off the glass. He looked like a spider descending on a fly.

All the anger and frustration that had been bottled up in my chest burst like a tornado, fueling my attacks with so much fury that I wanted to kill this rogue at this very instant. “Alex, that’s enough,” Hunter yelled at me, but I didn’t stop. “He has injected her with something, Alex. You need to take her to the hospital. Leave him to me.” I stopped when I registered what he said. I looked at Hazel, who was now completely unconscious in my embrace. “Take her to the hospital now, Alex. Her wolf is also affected.” Velan roared, making my heart skip a beat. I scooped her up in bridal style and ran in Oscar’s direction, who brought my car to the entrance of the alley.

A turned hunter, wearing a shredded flannel shirt, its mouth dripping with thick black bile, lunged violently out of the shadows, tackling Atlas squarely in the chest. Atlas grunted as the heavy weight slammed him against the doorframe. The zombie snapped its rotting, jagged teeth inches from Atlas’s neck. Before Atlas could bring his iron poker up in the confined space, a shadow blurred past me. Denzel crossed the porch in a fraction of a second. He grabbed the back of the infected hunter’s hair, wrenched its head backward with brutal force, and drove his dagger straight up through the base of its skull. The zombie went limp instantly, but as it died, a wet, gargling roar tore from its thro

They instinctively looked down. Then everyone froze. The pink, suggestive interface of "Goddess Hunter" disappeared. It was replaced by a cold black interface that looked like a tombstone. At the center of the screen, the photo of me that had been treated as prey vanished too. In its place was Gary's face, twisted with shock. Under his photo, blood red words slowly appeared. [New game activated, Scumbag Hunter.] [Target: Gary Zachary York.] A cold, emotionless synthetic voice came from everyone's phone at the same time.

Ramsy boasted. Delta Ramsy mustered little heed to Higgins' pitiful state as the spat to the soon to-be corpse in his wake. Hunters were members of the resistance, who were mostly humans that had their only goal to be liberating their people and domineering the greater mass of carnivorous beast that desired to usurp any attempts they made to establish a system like theirs or breed enough to try. Higgins' life was dangling on a thin thread, his hands laid across the two ends of the baracade by chains anchored to his wrists and a weakened resolve from that death that just insisted on taking its time before truly drawing the life out of him.

She stood against the wall, her gaze alert as she stared at him, and asked a question. "Are you awake?" Hunter said nothing, only feeling something slowly flowing down, warm. He did not raise his hand to touch, his gaze fell on her lips. Her lips were sucked red, with a hint of blood at the corner, left by him. Lena was struck by his gaze, she always felt that the current Hunter was not the Hunter she knew. If the previous Hunter was the epitome of white, then what stands before her now is a mix of black and white, both righteous and evil.

But it wasn’t the monster that had my heart stopping in my chest. It was his eyes. “Ronan,” I breathed, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. The wolf didn’t hesitate. He lunged, his claws slicing through the air as he slammed one of the hunters into the door with a sickening crack. The man crumpled, his body limp, his gun clattering to the floor. “What the fuck is that?” another hunter yelled, his voice cracking with fear as he aimed his weapon at Ronan. Before he could fire, Ronan was on him, pinning him to the wall. The man slumped, lifeless, as Ronan turned to me, his blue eyes blazing.

Will heard the commotion before he was close enough to see and by the pungent scent of iron in the air, he knew he was running head-on into a bloodbath. The first sight that met his eyes was a hunter on the back of a brown wolf and a silver rope wrapped around its neck, by the looks of it, she was quickly losing consciousness. Will didn’t blink when he sprang from the ground and knocked the hunter off, the sound of bones shattering when his weight came down on the man only made him thirsty for blood.

Caroline carried him in her arms and teleported herself to the other side of the battlefield. "Go." She said, putting him on the ground. Hunter looked at her for a while and then ran away from there. After half an hour!! 'Alpha, let's return back to the pack.' Zordan mind-linked Calvin. 'We found out the identity of the hunter's leaders. David just informed Reva of his name and also that they ran away from here with his family members already.' [David Fincher, a spy appointed by Calvin to find out the real identity of the hunters. I have mentioned him in Chapter 32.]