Goblin Slayer: Endless Hunting Novels & Stories

“We smell her… we taste her…” Zayn’s jaw clenched. “Adrien! They won’t stop until they devour every shard of her essence. Every piece of her.” Adrien’s heart lurched. His vision blurred with fury. “Then we’ll tear them apart first!” He hurled himself forward again, his silver glow burning brighter than before. But the hunters were endless. One dissolved, another appeared. For every beast Adrien struck down, another dropped from the storm, each more twisted than the last. Winged shapes shrieked overhead, their talons slicing through the air.

Still confused about what he is saying because my dad has never discussed this with me before he died. “ I told your dad to discuss it with you but he always tells me it isn't time for you to know. Now he is gone you have to know your lineage. Like I said you are from the generation of hunters. Your lineage has always been the leaders of the Hunter's. Now your dad is dead, you are to take over from him. The mantle has been passed to you. Hunters are the ones who hunt werewolves.” I sobbed as tears trickled down my eyes. I couldn't hold it

AVA Without another word, Hunter moves swiftly away from the lockers, passing by his two friends whose names I'm guessing are Preston and Gomorey. They had been gawking at Hunter with a mischievous grin playing on their lips, and Hunter didn't waste a chance to shoot them both with his penetrating glare. I noticed their pupils retrench as they stared at him, meaning they were conversing with each other through mindlink. It was brief, lasting a couple of seconds before Hunter turns left and straight down the now-empty halls.

"Keep it steady!" I regained my footing between the bags, aimed, then took another two shots. One hit his upper arm, the other his shoulder, but he kept coming, unfazed by the gushing holes. I shifted my weight onto my other foot and grinned. I might not have stopped him, but the Thornblood dipped bullets had punctured him, binding shade and host to the same satisfying fate. I fired one last time, hitting him strait between his soulless eyes.

“Sera, look at this.” “This is bad. We should contact the commander.” She noticed that one of the goblins had a slightly bluish skin and a small horn on their head. It was a stronger species, an evolved goblin called a hobgoblin. Newbies can handle a single hoblin but a horde would be fatal. Team Alpha recovered enough to move. Sera and Sven were about to inform them to retreat when the earth rumbled violently.

I dragged myself off the floor and into the bathroom to wash all the blood off me and bandage my wounds. It was a painfully slow process. I had never gotten hurt when hunting before. Never. That was partly because I didn’t hunt and partly because in all my practice, I was a silent killer. I never engaged in fights. I ambushed and killed. There were times when I felt guilty about that style, never giving the animals a fighting chance, but I thought it was better in the long run. They would still loose, werewolves were at the top of the food chain with the exception of Lycans, although they had died out so long ago that they were now nothing more than a myth. By attacking them and ending it qu

Away they went. Three hours had elapsed, yet the tournament raged on. The Red Moon pack held its lead, though the Dark of the Gods pack was a close second. In the third game, referred to as the hunt, both teams would venture into the woods together with ropes for hiding and seeking. The hunt begins with a gunshot once they've found their hiding place. Whoever gets tired will lose, and the winner will have to bring the loser to the front to see everyone in the crowd. When it was Dawn turn, she wasted no time finding a place to hide. Her familiarity with the area allowed her to pinpoint the best hiding places. What excited her most about the hunting game was competing against Malachi, her best

A ripple of darkness seeped from the shattered entrance. Not a creature. Not a person. A void. It crawled across the snow like living shadow, stretching, reaching, twisting into form. Or rather— Forms. Three Hunters emerged, towering, skeletal figures formed from shadow and frost. Their limbs were long and jagged, like broken branches. Their skull-like faces had no eyes. Only gaping holes that screamed hunger. Elle whispered, terrified: “Morana awakened three. I hoped… I prayed… she would only risk one.” Zander snarled, stepping protectively in front of me.

She tells him. “I have exhausted every option, Cordelia!” he growls. “There’s nothing left to figure out.” “There is always another option,” she says softly. “We just have to find it.” “You don’t understand,” he sighs. “We don’t have the time to figure anything out. The hunters are already closing in. Every month I move the pack further and further away from civilization, but humans always end up dead.” “You haven't told them,” she sighs in realization.

Vampire Hunting was illegal, and the last thing Jo wanted was to end up in jail--again. Her weapon of choice was a modified Glock. It had a built in silencer, and the barrel was elongated so that the velocity of the silver bullets she fired would penetrate Vampire bone and flesh deeper and quicker than anything on the market. These bullets were different, too. Since silver bullets had been outlawed in ’42, just two years after the first Vampire was elected president, she’d relied on a secret black market of former LIGHTS members to get her what she needed. Sometimes the bullets worked; sometimes she had to pull her knife and end things the messy way.