Demonic Comic Novels & Stories

“And what’s that?” “I want you to make me immortal.” His expression twisted with horror and disgust. “Are you insane? Demons aren’t immortal. And you want me to turn you into one?” Wait. Demons can die? “Okay, okay. But... how do you die?” “If we’re beheaded. Or injured beyond repair.” Duly noted: decapitation equals demon death. Then he started laughing. A loud, deep, devilish cackle that shook my bones. I closed my eyes, bracing for a fireball or something worse.

Instead, it was as simple as it could be, that is- MY DEMONIC FANGS ! They were sharply shaped dead cells around sensitive nerve endings and it was pretty safe to say that Zompano was going to be my meat at this hour of the day and I was going to make sure to relish each and every flesh and bone of his being. Rogue Demons might be disgusting to look at but Demon Meat was Demon Meat- juicy, luscious and stomach warming. “I can’t wait, Danielle,” Damon whined through the mindlink as I watched Zompano hysterically try to break free from our hold for some time. Pfft. Such a miserable loser. “What are you waiting for ?” he impatiently asked.

I tried to lighten my mood with a joke. “Yeah, something like that.” Hana chuckled. “So Isak is an angel, and Harris and some of the guys at DKE are nephilim. Aidan is a demon, an incubus demon, to be exact. There are three kinds of demons...” Hana started to explain. “Wait. Incubus? Like the masculine succubus? McFingers is a sex demon?” I asked.

It was dangerous. Under the scorching sun, three formidable demonic beings stood ominously in front of the ancient pack house, emanating an aura of malevolence. Each demon possessed a unique appearance, reflecting their individual nature and power. The first demon stood tall and imposing with ebony skin and fiery crimson eyes. His long, jagged horns protruded from his forehead, and he carried a wickedly serrated sword crafted from blackened bones. The second demon was shrouded in a cloak of swirling shadows, making it difficult to discern her true form. Her skeletal fingers clutched a slender, obsidian staff topped with a glowing, pulsating orb of ethereal energy. The final demon had a hulki

"Origin Demonic Art?" "Analyze." [Analyzing…] [The book is a technique book with illusion magic cast on it that features demonic art.] [This book will draw the attention of anyone who gets close to it.] "What kind of demonic art is it?" [Mystic Rank - Lower Demon Mutational Art] [Consuming the blood of living beings will greatly accelerate growth. Consuming the blood of the same species will accelerate advancement] [Side effect: becomes a demonic mutant]

I retorted and stormed into the building. On arrival at the main room, the demon glared at me in its most gruesome manner. She knew I could see her and probably thought she could scare me. In return, I stared back at the creature with a sinister smirk, wondering who had brought such an unclean famous spirit into the house. Not like I was a clean spirit too. It was a dark cloud with various colour marks on its surface like a painting canvas, dripping glitters to the lady who was causally sipping coffee, with her back towards me.

I murmur, my eyes draw to a particular spectacular panoply of paintings on the wall. Stace follows my gaze. “This is a little different. We are creatures of Demonic origin. Although most people are merely mortals, us, with our abilities, are special. Magic isn’t passed down through bloodlines, but created by the dormant Demonic gene in all of us. If it happens to mutate, we could be blessed, or cursed with powers.” The paintings before he show a range of people, covering most of the wall. Each person looks somewhat different to the other, but each stand in a regal position, staring blankly ahead. One of them is Stace, the look on his face making me shiver.

“If you hand over the key to the Infinite Esoteric Art, we’ll give you a quick death. Otherwise...” The Sanguine Fiend cackled. “Not only will your spirit body be annihilated, but I’ll also have a delicious feast on this young man’s heart!” Demonic cultivators were demonic cultivators. Despite their smiling faces, their words were chilling.

He turns and sees my focus on his hand, before pausing a moment to also look down at what is now normal skin, and makes a soft noise under his breath that almost seems like a laugh. “Figured out why the smarter wolves are afraid of me, Princess?” he mocks me before pushing his way inside. Unrattled by my seeing his true self, and in fact, it feels a lot like he grows cockier with every step as my returning trepidation grows. It sends a chill through me as I follow him into the cozy space, not really taking it in, my thoughts swimming with newfound fear as I try to recall Leyanne's teachings. Demonics. The fractured half of the Angelics. Once a whole whose conflicting parts were torn apart be

“They’re happy. They’re not suffering, and they don’t have any troubles. “They only belong to me. “This is art! It’s perfect art!” He was completely insane. It was completely inhumane. He had turned these young women into his personal toys. I looked at those young women. They were only in their early twenties. Their lives were just starting. However, they were trapped in this dungeon. I recalled what Charlie had said. “The pretty lady fell asleep after the jab, just like sleeping beauty.” It turned out that this was what he was referring to. I felt very sad. I was sad for these young women and this despicable world.