Hunterxhunter Books Novels & Stories

Hello faithful readers. How do you do? I have been incognito for a while due to some hardware issues with my computer but I have found a way around that thanks to God. I am sorry for letting you all down and hope that wouldn't happen again. Now that I have that out of the way, there is an announcement to make. I am here to inform you that Book 1 of Hunters: The Prequel - Hunter Hunted - is over. And Book 2 begins today!

"Why don't these stories exist in real life? God, please, please just once, I wanna experience the fictional world" She squeezed her eyes shut, palms together in a praying gesture, exhibiting her desperation and longing for something impossible. "Mystical world of mystical creatures" That was her favorite comic book of all time, which she had read almost a dozen times by now. Her grandfather had given it to her when she was 7. It was a unique comic, a rare edition to be precise. A big fat book, having nearly 1,000 pages. It held a whole other world inside it. A history book, an encyclopedia containing minute details about the supernatural species. Their origin, abilities, weaknesses, strengt

“It’s a bit crazy, but the body snatcher seems to pick bodies where there is no living relative to claim it. All of them were being buried by the county.” “Well, that’s damned convenient,” I mused. When I looked up and saw both Peter and Max staring at me after my remark, I blushed. “I mean, it’s weird, right? How would the snatcher know these things? Whoever it is, must work in a place that gives access to the records.”

One day he decided to walk into the woods and no one has ever seen him since. My name is Lucas Harrison. I am considered the best tracker and hunter in the town. Not only animals but also Paranormal beings. All-day and all night, people in our town searched, lighting the way with flashlights and lanterns. Searching with dogs and carrying shotguns. It all seemed like a horror movie waiting to happen.

The two of us walked around and it wasn’t until I caught sight of one book that my attention seemed to diverge completely from the place that we were in. “Hunter? How do you have a copy of this?” I asked, and he smiled, clearly letting me know that he expected this book to catch my attention. “You know, when you told me that you knew about the hunters and wolves actually being allies, I was amazed. It was something written here in the book. This book in particular was made by the first hunter Morozov and MY great grandfather.” He said, and she frowned in confusion. “The first hunter was a Morozov?”

Aunt Sarael explained, running her fingers across the spines of her collection. Based on the dual desks, she must share this office with John. They had quite a collection of books. Obviously, not as many as I’m used to, having grown up in the guild headquarters. But despite the smaller scale of books, there should be enough in here to work with. After all, we have three Adio hunters here. There’s nothing we can’t figure out together. “Then let us get to work. I’m sure these books have enough information and our collective knowledge to make this work.” Isis smiled, taking a book off a shelf to check for possible counterspells.

Her eyes fell on a book with a black cover, the gold letters reading: “The Art of Breaking Chains.” She pulled it free, curiosity winning, and curled into his leather chair. The chair was far too big for her, swallowing her small frame, but she felt oddly safe in it. Before she realized, her eyelids grew heavy. The book slipped onto her lap as she drifted into sleep. Hunter returned late, his mood thunderous after the ring, after Geret. His mind was sharp, his body burning with violence he hadn’t been able to unleash fully. But the instant he stepped into the quiet house, he sought her.

Nothing felt like enough. “Silas,” I whispered, pressing my hands to his chest. His breathing was shallow, his body too still. The scent of silver mixed with blood was suffocating. The hunters were getting closer. I could see their shadows through the gaps in the trees, hear their low voices cutting through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, muttering a prayer to anyone who might be listening. A shift in the wind made my breath catch. A familiar voice rang through the air. “Let’s wrap this up! We’ve got enough!”

[katalina] I’m with Hunter now. We’re taking the route back home. My body is aching like I’ve been hazed by a fraternity. On our way home, Hunter was so serious on the road. He won’t believe me when I confessed that Bernard was just a fictional character in the book I was reading before. He didn’t know about my past. Nor he deserves to know. Of course, prior to I became a researcher and writer in one, reading pocket novels are my pastime. It helps me to escape the cruel world.

"Enough," he growls. The Archivist snarls. "You're out of bounds, Hunter." He ignores her, turning to me. "Get up. Unless you want to be a footnote." The static recognizes him. Not his face-his *essence*. He smells of blood and static, like me. "Who are you?" I demand. He sheathes his blade. "Someone who's read your story. And *hates* the ending." --- **The Hunt**