Devil Hunter Chainsaw Man Novels & Stories

His chest was slick with gore, and every line of him radiated the truth of what he was: death walking. The first Hunter charged with a blade. Kilian didn’t flinch. In a motion faster than thought, he caught the man mid-strike, his claws sinking deep into his side. He tore him apart with a single, savage movement. Blood sprayed, hot and heavy, coating the stone floor. The man collapsed in a twitching heap. The others hesitated — but only for a breath. Then they roared in unison, rushing him. Nova screamed, pulling at her chains. “No—!”

Who was he against a man who had even the president of our great nation in the palm of his hands? “Fuck you devil!” I screamed again. I remained in the bathtub, as my thoughts ran around, and around. If I was cheerful, there was a reason why. I had to be. No one was supposed to be able to steal my joy anymore. No one. Not even this miserable fucking devil! I didn't know how it happened but I slept off. When I awoke though, I saw my reflection through what looked like eyes, and I panicked. “Did you sleep in the tub?”

“Ethan!” But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t try. Coward. Dante leans close as I’m hauled past him, his breath warm against my ear. “Say goodbye to your prince, doll. The devil’s claimed you now.” I scream until my throat burns, until the church disappears, until the night air swallows me whole. The car reeks of leather and gunpowder. My wrists burn against the zip ties. Two men flank me, rifles across their laps. “Let me out!” I shout, kicking the door.

Devine drew back, his fist crashing into the man’s ribs with a bone-crunching crack. The man choked on a scream, his body swinging from the force of the blow, chains rattling above him. Still, he stayed silent. Devine’s breathing thickened. The anger inside him didn’t settle. It sharpened. It howled. It tore at his insides like a wild thing. He grabbed the man’s hair, yanking his head back to look into his bloodied face. His knife hovered just above the man’s eye, pressing lightly against the skin. “I will cut you apart piece by piece,” Devine said, voice low and full of raw promise. “And you will still die in the end.”

​The Butcher Unchained (18+ Rated) ​The sight of me collapsing was the final spark Kaelen needed. He stopped fighting the chains; he embraced them. He lunged forward, letting the silver sear through his muscle to reach the throat of the nearest shadow. With a sickening crunch, he tore the head clean off, his golden eyes glowing with a light that rivaled the sun. ​He shifted back into his human form mid-air, naked and covered in his own blood, his claws still extended. He didn't look like a man; he looked like a god of vengeance. He reached the other three shadows and turned the foyer into a slaughterhouse.

They saw him as nothing more than a poor boy who had lost his mother. And just like that, the sponsorship slot naturally fell into Timothy's hands. I skimmed through everything at a glance, my hands trembling uncontrollably. All along, I believed that Timothy only changed in his senior year of high school. I never imagined that this was who he truly was all along. He was a devil by nature. I submitted the materials to the police. I later heard that Timothy was arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment. Hearing that, I finally let out a breath I'd been holding.

After I shouted to choose Matteo, my mother, Sofia, looked down at me in shock. "Lia, what are you talking about?! You just told me yesterday that Vincenzo treats you the best. Why are you choosing Matteo now?" Matteo had a terrible reputation among the Families. Everyone said he was bloodthirsty and ruthless, with enough blood on his hands to stain the entire river red. I used to hide whenever I saw him, crying and begging my mother to hold me. But they would never know that in my last life, the terrifying Diavolo Sanguinario was the only one who avenged my mother and me.

I grab the gun from my holster and drag her behind the heavy oak desk. “Luca!” I shout. “I’m here!” His voice comes from the hall. A second later, he slides into the room, gun drawn, already scanning the perimeter. “Sniper. South window. At least two.” I peek up just long enough to see the muzzle flash from the tree line outside. The bastard’s good—precise, calm. Not some street-level assassin. This is personal. “Get her out,” I order. Luca nods. “Safe room?”

One man peeled Julius's shirt from his body, revealing bloodied skin already torn from earlier beatings. The first cut was across his chest. Deliberate. Slow. Julius screamed. Dante closed his eyes for a moment, breathing it in. The scream was music—high, cracked, desperate. “Do you know what the funny thing is?” Dante asked, walking slowly to a steel cabinet. He opened it, revealing an array of tools—pliers, wires, hammers, a blowtorch. “She doesn’t even know how precious she is. But I do.” He selected a thin ice pick and turned. “And you… you’re going to bleed until you understand what it means to touch something that belongs to the devil.”

Just then, Dante and his men happened to pass by and when I saw him, my eyes widened. “Help me.” I blurted out in a weak voice. “He does not care bitch.” the man said with a scoff. All of a sudden, Dante halted and so did his men, the two guards by his side. Then he walked up to the man and grabbed him by the hair, smashing his face into the wall. By the time the man's head was brought up, his face was bleeding. He received a punch to his face and another smash to the wall before being thrown to the ground like a mere object.