Devil Arms Dmc Novels & Stories

I guess it's called avoidance, though there isn't enough alcohol in the world to avoid my demons. Dmitri must realize I'm about to pass out and even through the fuzzy haze I hear his low growling words, "I will eventually release you, but first, dragon, we shall have a short discussion." He eases up the pressure just a bit, which allows me to breathe. I suck in air when what I really want is for him to tighten those deadly fingers and take all the oxygen from my worthless life. But no, he is so fucking noble. His amber eyes assess me and I can see the contempt written clearly in their depths. Before he begins the discussion, I know my welcome at the club is at an end.

The man met Damian’s eyes through the gap and lifted a gloved hand. “Cavendish,” he said in a voice like gravel. “You always were predictable.” Damian’s reply was not words. It was motion. He lunged forward with the ferocity of a man who had been hollow and then refilled with righteous blood. The mercenary he held went down. The other pushed toward the door, and Cole slammed a strike that echoed in the tin. But the armored vehicle wasn’t a barrier against bullets. Panels split, vents hissed—and from the belly of the machine, a drone rolled out. It was squat and fast and moved like a hunting beetle. It took the air, and then the container suddenly filled with a sound like a swarm.

Dante's POV Movement in the trees to the north caught my attention. I tensed, my hand automatically moving to the weapon at my hip even though I wouldn't need it. My claws were deadlier than any gun. Through our bond, I felt Vera's spike of awareness. She'd sensed it too. A figure emerged from the shadows between the trees, stumbling slightly like walking took more effort than it should. The morning light hit him and I got my first clear look at Daemon.

So Almighty has a great hand in this. When evil goddess planned he played it in another way by bringing that family at the correct time in that spot. I am hoping that all will end in good way anyway... Dear,,, if you weren't there l might become a cause for that hybrid's death and might become a reason for the destruction of whole world. lf you weren't there l might be a person who will be more evil than cactus. Thanks god! for making my vampire friend immortal. Otherwise we didn't get a chance to know all this like the witch Cactus...", said the old werewolf with weeping.

Brielle yelled, "Fall back! You're no match for him!" Damon's palms slammed forward like steel plates, knocking Eric back. A murderous glint flashed in his eyes as he lunged again and rammed into Eric with his shoulder. Eric let out a sharp cry as he threw up a mouthful of blood. Damon's killing intent surged. He closed in and grabbed Eric's arm with a crushing force. Eric's heart sank because he finally realized he had hit a true powerhouse; Damon was a full-blown martial emperor. Eric flipped twice midair to counter Damon's brutal attempt to rip his arm clean off. With a tearing sound, half of Eric's shirt was ripped away. In the final second, he used Phantom Mirage again, buying just enou

BANG-BANG-BANG! Blinding white light and disorienting shockwaves erupted through the chamber. Sophia screamed hysterically, covering her eyes as she fell to her knees. The mercenaries stumbled back, blinded and disoriented, firing wild, aimless bursts into the smoke. Out of the blinding haze, a shadow emerged. He didn't take cover. He didn't flinch. Damian Vance walked through the fire and smoke like an invincible god of vengeance. He wore a fresh, dark tactical suit, his broad chest unyielding, a silenced submachine gun held in his right hand. With terrifying, mechanical precision, Damian raised his weapon.

, Davil growls and Tareem smiles. “Isn’t that why your dad died? He underestimated his threat”, Tareem hits a nerve and Davil punches Tareem so hard he stagger creating dust. Davil rushes Tareem with punches which he dodge. Davil jumps up a bit using his leg to hit Tareem, Tareem shifts back a bit dodging again. Davil pushes that leg back but this time fast than Tareem can comprehend hit him to the ground. Tareem stays on the ground refusing to get up.

The heavy silence in the decontamination airlock was shattered only by the relentless hum of the Acheron's atmospheric scrubbers. The Vanguard Commander stood perfectly still, a monolithic figure in vantablack armor, analyzing the raw desperation radiating from Dante and Elara. His polarized visor reflected their battered forms: Dante, bruised and defiant, wielding a crude titanium wrench like a broadsword; and Elara, shivering yet resolute, her thumb resting millimeters from the data drive’s biometric kill-switch. The four mercenaries flanking the Commander kept their suppressed submachine guns leveled, the crimson laser sights forming a constellation of lethal intent across Dante’s chest.

Mia hissed, barely looking at Hema. Hema sat still, her expression calm—too calm. Her fingers clutched the sides of the chair she sat on, back straight, chin lifted. Her eyes, though blank, had a heaviness to them. As if they had seen too much. She didn’t ask for clarity. She just nodded. From the depths of her purse, Hema retrieved a small glass vial—delicate, almost beautiful. The liquid inside shimmered a pale golden hue, silent and deadly. She rolled it between her fingers like a fragile piece of fate.

It was an extraordinarily enchanting dance that would captivate anyone who beheld it. The Emerald Gem Zither accompanied Val's movements, transforming the subtle melodies into luminous sword rays. The sword rays interweaved and carried threads of electrifying brilliance, enhancing their allure. Suddenly, Val halted mid-dance, transforming into a streak of lightning that directly pierced the demonic figure's brow. The element of surprise was a consistent tactic employed by Val. This time was no exception. The demonic figure was caught off guard and took a direct hit, a small mark appearing on its forehead. Subsequently, it ceased all movement.