Hellhound Warhammer นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It seemed like this Hunt was going to prove me wrong. “The Wyrms have no faces. They are like psychic parasites. They latch onto one’s mind, showing them nightmares, trapping them in something horrific for hours, even more.” It seemed like perils lay at every step of this. “It's merely a bloody sport now. Bets are even placed on who will die first, how the Dhwlarians will "claim" them, and which pack's "chosen" will show the most cunning. It is a brutal reaffirmation of their pact and their power. But remember, the deeper you go into the Hollow, the lesser the chances of survival and returning. Not even a satellite can capture what goes on there. And no one has returned from deep inside.”

The ground split as something rose from the rock, a figure larger than any shadow before, its body a fusion of bone and rusted metal, eyes burning with the same crimson light that had pulsed in the ruins. Vame’s voice was grim. “A Hollowed One.” The creature lunged. Elior and Bram moved first, their weapons meeting the monster’s shifting body. But steel did nothing. The Hollowed One’s form bent and reformed, its burning gaze fixed on Rael. He felt it inside his mind. The Hollow Crown knows you. Rael stumbled back. The book in his hands burned, the words shifting wildly. He barely understood what he was reading, but when he spoke them aloud, the creature screamed.

Each person controls a world leader, running the underworld and carefully maintaining the balance needed in such a world filled with human greed, death and destruction— willingly ready to be seen as the devils. Zayn Hellfire was not a Devil. He was Hell itself. “Tea, Don?” Giana places the cup in front of me, her milky gray eyes staring at me even though many cannot do the same. For she is blind. I don’t bother to give a response but she doesn’t wait for one as she places the cup and saucer down on the table. It’s Darjeeling tea, one of Eve’s favorites, but now I am no longer sure if she ever liked it.

The Federation had no success at taking much less keeping one alive and whenever they tried, humans died. Six months before the end of the war-maybe I should call it the first war since the hounds are returning-a hellhound broke into the underground compound where I worked. It killed twenty-three people. Twenty-one of them were heavily armed. Three of my co-workers and I made it to a reinforced steel closet and closed the door with the hellhound inches from destroying us. I've had nightmares about them ever since. Now King is saying he can take me to see a hellhound.

We were out of options, and it felt like the end. But then, another ear-piercing cry of agonising pain echoed through the realm. It was so loud, so visceral, that we both opened our eyes in shock. Black, sticky blood splattered over Rae, coating her fur and my vision with its dark, oily texture. In front of us, a larger demonic hellhound had appeared. It was a monstrous beast, even more terrifying than the winged creature. Its eyes glowed with an unholy light, and its jaws were filled with razor-sharp teeth. The hellhound had caught the winged beast in its powerful jaws and was tearing into it with a ferocity that was both horrifying and mesmerising.

a werewolf announced. Zane Drocco is a handsome lad carrying the title of being the oldest among them despite the clear skin and youthful appearance. He's had visions of the past, present, and future. He's also laid out several prophecies that turned out to be quite true, and everything he envisioned had come to reality. Apart from that, he is also the strongest warrior who led battles to victory in centuries. A literal knight in shining armour.

Chloe asked curiously. "You're a smart one, aren't you?" Dagmar smirked. "The goddess always seems to bless Hellhound males with smart women. The gods know those males need them. You're right; myths tend to come from a truth albeit perhaps an embellished truth. Shadow Wolves are no different although I'm not sure there are any werewolves alive today who know the story.

She tilted her head, grinning. “Greetings, Than.” The beast’s gaze burned through her, void of mercy. Muscles coiled, claws gleamed. The ground trembled beneath its power. And then it lunged. The war had begun. Not between werewolves. Not between men. But between two forces beyond comprehension. Chaos vs. Death. Heratte vs. Thaneous. Good vs. Evil. And the world would tremble beneath them.

That meant getting down to our latest problems. Quade had contacted a Hellhound he knew. The way hellhounds were created was rather a disturbing event. They weren't born like werewolves or fae. They were turned similarly to vampires. As a vampire, you were technically already dead, a cold, hard shell walking around using other people's blood to stay alive. Hellhounds were the same in the sense of the human being dead, only once dead, the spirit of a Hellhound would possess the mortal body which in turn kept the body and human functional.

Using my sword skills, I tear through their bodies, slicing their heads and limbs, but they keep coming. My body bows as claws dig into my back. Falling forward, I manage to rip away from the claw and slice at the hound, but another grips my arm. I kick out as my sword clatters onto the floor and rip another hound’s arm. Its grey body shudders, and its wolflike snout curls. Outside of their human forms, hellhounds are not pretty creatures. They are gray, with large, stout, pitbull bodies, very little hair, and heads are round with tiny cauliflower ears, beady dark eyes, and puglike snouts.