Demon Slayer Mark の小説・ストーリー

I said, pointing to the mark on her neck. It's a mark that she's already been claimed by a high-ranking and strong demon. Only our clan is capable of bestowing such honors. So no tenebris or demons will dare to approach her. It's just me. So she's completely mine. Whether she likes it or not, I own her. Even if she is far away, I can still locate her thanks to the mark I placed on her. That was one of the reasons I was able to locate her so quickly the night she attempted suicide.

I asked in confusion and he replied, “The green mass of slime lying on the floor. That is one of the lower demons. We wanted to summon a Brakyen but his spell backfired and we accidentally summoned a Kraken” “Oh,” I said as if I was highly interested in his story. “But I believe you will be able to do it correctly. You seem to be the smartest in this group” I said while batting her eyelashes again and I could see the idiot’s chest swell with pride. “Yes, you can always rely on Mark,” He said while poking a thumb in his own chest. “I can also make sweet love to you and make you moan until you beg me to stop. I will not let them offer you to a demon. You are mine” He said and I swear I saw sal

“No, Cassius. I am finally going to be free of you. My time of being your puppet, doing dirty work over and over again for you is over. Damien and Amelia are going to live well, free of your obsession.” Rushing towards me, Damien drew out the dagger and was about to drive it through me when Mark intercepted him, allowing the stake to go through him instead, and when he fell to the ground. There was a smile on his face and he vomited blood all over the floor. “Remember when you asked me to kill the girl's child? Well, I didn’t, you bastard. See you in hell.” I watched in rage as he took his last breath and Damien smirked at me as he knelt in front of Mark’s dead body and withdrew the stake.

"We have a healer here. We'll take him inside." Alec and I exchange a look, and then we follow the group into the house. It's warm inside, and the smell of herbs and magic hangs in the air. I watch as the healer--a thin woman with long, graying hair--examines Damon's wounds. "He's lucky to be alive," she says, shaking her head. "These wounds are powerful. And then there are these." She points to slashes, one across his shoulder and one on his leg. "Silver Hunters," Damon rasps.

I saw the light bulb go off and her cheeks went a crimson shade. She looked beautiful, flushed and I wanted to keep her like that all the time. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything. I will wait as long as you need." "Is that why I was able to push that demon in the fight behind the bar?" "Yes, because I marked you, you were able to pull some of my power, which is why your mark lit up, but until we are fully mated your powers will not surface. "Wait, I'll have more powers than being able to dream walk?" "All hunters have certain abilities. It is different for everyone."

Black cloth with a silver symbol. An eclipse with a dagger through its heart. The mark of the Eternal Order. "They are already here," Asher said quietly. The torches drew closer. And somewhere in that approaching army, Mordain the Undying was coming to kill me.

I ordered to be chained down—alone in the dungeon—to keep my pack safe. So I trust no one. Not even myself. “Wait,” I growled, nostrils flared up as I picked up a strange scent of blood, mixed with lavender and something faintly… feminine. I quickly reached for my dagger as we stepped closer to the direction where the smell was coming from. Then I saw her. Curled at the root of a tree, bruised, bloodied, and barely breathing. Her clothes were ripped, her stomach and thighs was stained with dried blood, and thick red marks lined her back in neat, cruel rows.

The dagger gleamed beneath the torchlight like liquid moonlight caught in steel. Its edge was whisper-thin, carved with the ancient sigil of the Council Head—two serpents coiled around a bleeding rose. The emissary held it with reverence as he stepped into the center of the chamber. His voice carried the cold finality of tradition. "The Mark of Blood," he declared, "demands not endurance, but offering. The test of loyalty made flesh." Alessia stood still, every muscle taut, though her heart thundered in her chest.

“Louder this time. The walls listen.” I swallowed. “Our bodies are vessels,” I recited, voice obedient, familiar words scraping my throat. “Our blood is borrowed. Our breaths are offerings. We are the chosen keepers of the Mark, the last gate between this world and the hunger beneath it.” “And the Mark?” she prompted. The skin on my left shoulder prickled as if it heard her. “The Mark is not a curse,” I said. “The Mark is the seal.” Mother Elara’s gaze softened, but not with affection. With reverence. With fear.

“No, you do not date a girl, and even get engaged to someone, then try to kill them! I do not give a shit if you found out Shelly was your mate! That is not how it is done!” “What was I supposed to do? Turn her the wretch?” “You have no idea, what you have done!” I turn to my Gamma “Throw him in the dungeon when we get home and prepare ourselves for war” “Over a pathetic HUMAN Freak!” Mark screamed “That girl is my MATE!!! Have a care what you say, you know nothing! We prepare for war just in case. I intend to find her before anyone else does!” My Gamma stood by my side as they hauled Mark away in shackles