Dio Brando Phantom Blood Novels & Stories

he would give the beast a merciful end. Brandon laughed softly at the irony of this as he walked to a nearby tree, and with a little bit of strain, he broke a thick branch from the tree. Planning to simply stab the beast in the throat until it stopped moving Brandon hefted the branch, took a step forward and locked his eyes on the black mound of teeth, claws and vile slobber. Something cracked him in the chin. Brandon flew from the brain scrambling blow. A lance of agony cracked across his jaw, and sliced up into the core of his brain as his head was nearly ripped off of his shoulder and he was tossed into the air.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. The door creaked, and Phantom strolled in with his trademark calm, though tonight he wasn’t wearing his pristine white suit. Instead, black clung to his frame, sharp as a blade. His smile was venomous. “Well, well,” Phantom drawled, circling Damon like a predator. “How the mighty have fallen. You’re not looking so sharp, Damon.” Damon lifted his head, spitting blood onto the floor. “Go to hell.” Phantom chuckled. “Oh, we’re already there.” His voice dropped, sharp with menace. “Where’s the flash drive?”

He inquired in a husky tone, stroking my hair with affection. “Do you survive on human blood?” I asked, arching my brows at him. He shook his head. “No, I drink animals’ blood.” “Don’t you crave human blood?” As I questioned, my eyes glinted with curiosity. “Sometimes. But, with time, I've learned to control my desire for human blood." I nodded, understanding what he was saying. I grinned as I suggested to him. “Jonathan, you can drink my blood when you crave-“

“I would be leaving now. I won’t disturb any of you. I’ve seem enough. It was nice meeting you all, such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you would have to die at the end.” “Draymond?” Karla stared at him. “Is this not you? What am I hearing about you being possessed by Ghost Damon? Tell me it’s all a lie, Draymond.” “Oh my darling Karla,” Draymond smiled and held her hands. “I’m not your brother, Draymond. I’m someone else. Someone far better and with a much clearer vision. You remember your brother clearly don’t you? Years ago, the only thing he cared about was hunting, looking for lost treasures, ancient relics and that was what led him to his doom. I can assure you that I have nothing to

Before him: a blueprint. Not of a city. Not of a building. But of a woman. Aria Emilia Benedetti Valente. My movements. My pictures. My protectors. Every inch of my life, dissected and drawn like a war map. Beside it, a vial. Crimson. Glowing faintly. Extracted from blood left behind at the villa. He held it up to the candlelight and smiled. “The Benedetti blood doesn’t carry power,” he murmured. “But it can unlock it. The prophecy lied only in part.”

The seven blades seemed to multiply to become 49, and later to 490. It was just as Sebastian had guessed. Ronaldo wasn't a martial arts expert. He was an expert in the art of Shendo. Sebastian began to activate the concentrated vital energy inside his body. His steps changed slightly and made the ground beneath his feet seem to become more compact. "The Wind Phantom!" Ronaldo could not help looking shocked. Sebastian was so young. It was a miracle that he had the Wind Phantom in his arsenal. However, Ronaldo was now surrounded by shadowy images of Sebastian. The shadows were linked together, and it was difficult to tell which one of them was the real one.

I used one of my fingers to roll my piston while explaining to them. “The guy isn't weighed down by what he carried so it's obvious that it isn't her. Also, Ava's cloth is blood red, this looks more like wine… I guess they failed in planning it right,” I added with a smirk. Suddenly, Alessandro's face lit up as he called my attention to something… A black car that desperately tried to avoid the CCTV “That is Dario, boss,” my eyes widened as he pointed at the scar on the guy's hand. Dario truly has a scar that ran all the way from his face to his hand, it was caused by a sword.

One second he was ten feet away, the next he was in front of Darren, hand wrapped around his throat. “You touched what’s mine,” he said, voice quiet enough to feel like blasphemy. “That’s your last mistake.” Darren gasped, struggling. “You’re—” “Not human?” Malrik’s grip tightened. “Neither are you anymore.” He twisted. The sound was sharp, final. Darren’s body hit the ground with a thud. Malrik turned back to me, face unreadable. “Let’s go.” I nodded, but I couldn’t stop staring at the blood dripping from his fingers — dark, unnatural, glowing faintly under the light.

I cringe at the idea. Rowan instantly notices my distaste and rolls his eyes. “It’s not blood. I don’t drink blood like that. I have a small refrigerator where I keep bags, or I go to my brother’s Halo and take it from a donor. At his no-nonsense tone, a blush creeps up my neck, and I want to facepalm myself. I feel like such a newb. “Sorry, it’s just…umm…I know so little about you and what you are?”