Kamen Rider Blood Novels & Stories

I forced air into my lungs. I am Queen Ayamira. Gold light spread through the water. TRUE. The White Tide crown burned against my skull. A child cried somewhere beneath the chamber. I swallowed. I carry the blood of Ayame Rivers. The pool split into white and gold. TRUE. Not her body. Not her life. Her blood. Kiyomi stepped into the edge of the water. The red band around her wrist tightened. I am Kiyomi Rivers. The chamber went silent. FALSE. Hayate’s face emptied.

I can feel his rage, his protective fury, as if it's my own. And then he's there. He materializes from the shadows like something born from nightmare—tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark leather and a long coat that seems to be woven from smoke itself. His face is partially hidden by a black mask that covers the lower half, leaving only his eyes visible. Those eyes. Silver and burning with an unholy light. The soldiers freeze, and I hear one of them choke out a single word. "Bloodwraith." Kael doesn't speak. He just moves.

he says. "I know," I say. He hands the knife back to me, handle first. "Keep it," he says. "Next time, aim for the throat." Outside, the moon is rising—two days from full, heavy and pregnant with light. But in the portrait room, surrounded by the faces of women who had not been allowed to choose, I feel something shift. The bloodline is not a curse, I realize. It is a question. And for the first time, I am ready to answer it on my own terms.

Cameron held it up to the light, watching it shimmer and shift like a drop of silver blood. "I wonder who you'll lead me to," he whispered.

The projected Transmigration Bureau agents charge and scatter the Ravens attacking close to the ground. Kera either slashes them apart with her overgrown talons or bites them in half with her fangs. Ankou throws a barrage of acidic blood-balls just like a rapid pitching machine. And Yama Ranger, on his creepy steed Nightmare, blasts away with his two six-shooters, a lever-action carbine in his third hand and his portal-opening lasso in his fourth.

Done, he sat down. “Well put,” Tillaman laughed, hysterical. “Young master Vloodless has given us no information to avoid risk of given up some secret of the art we are not intended to know.” Recomposing himself, he dusted his robe. “The theory about blood mages is that, like elementalists, they possess an affinity to blood, so perhaps we can call them a kind of deviant. They do not need to see it or touch it to manipulate it, it only needs to be exposed. So it’s best not to bleed in front of one. On the battlefield it is said that a competent blood mage is worth a battle mage, or two. I’d would explain why but I think it’s already pretty self-explanatory. That said, during your stay in the

With both parts of the blood ceremony complete, we held each other’s hands and began our side of the chant. The smoke swirled and whirled around Kamari, flowing around her and into her. Her face strained with what looked like pain, but she held in her scream. Her arms flung open involuntarily, the smoke, magic, and light of the moon immobilizing her to the center. Her body lifted off the floor slightly, the tips of her toes the only thing that touched, and before we could do anything else, Kamari screamed an agonizing scream and blinding white light exploded from her.

He was too heavy and my feet were tangled with the edge of my long dress. "Are you a slayer?" Another undead guy growled at Cammie. "Nope," Cammie said. "Just a black belt, but I can still rearrange your face." The guy growled and charged Cammie with his vampire speed. "No!" I screamed, giving another punch to my attacker. Then I snaked my free hand to the back of his neck and snapped his head. The guy collapsed to the floor beside me. I rose to my feet again, but before I could even stop the undead from hurting my best friend, Cammie had already jumped into an attack. She did a back-flip, knocking the vampire with the heel of her combat boot in the process. The undead's bulky head snapped r

Willow stood back and began to absorb the essence of all the fallen Slendermen. His eyes flashed red as his hair tuned white. He felt the runes etched and tattooed on his body awakening. “First tier of the Blood Born: Blood Knight.” Immediately, a scarlet broadsword appeared in his hand. The Slenderman lunged at him, and he sidestepped it, slashing at its legs. As it fell to the ground, he changed his position, smashing his feet into the thing’s face.

“The demon king believes you’ll choose that.” I felt Lucas tense beside me, his control straining. “And if we refuse?” I asked. The rider didn’t hesitate. “Then the next strike won’t come through shadows or symbols.” My pulse thundered. “Then how?” His eyes met mine, and for the first time I saw something like pity there. “Through blood.” A sharp, angry cry tore from the baby, sudden and fierce. I gasped, clutching my stomach as pain flared hot and brief, then faded.