Mud Blood 3 Novels & Stories

Slight red fresh blood began to squirt out and spurt out of his mouth. “Aquarius! Aquarius!” Virando stared sharply at Mr. Serpent Win Mara. He took out one of his gems and violently threw it to Mr. Serpent Win Mara. The coral hit and smote Mr. Serpent Win Mara’s left hand so violently and harshly. “Aaaarrrggghhkkk...!!! Look what you’ve done to my hand!” shouted Mr. Serpent Win Mara angrily. Red fresh blood was also seen oozing and oozing out of his left hand fingers. For a little while, the red orpiment emitted out from his left hand could be paused. He could solely emit his red orpiment from his right hand.

Familiar eyes shine through the dripping blood with a snarl. The monster grabs my wrist before I can pull back from a hard strike to its neck, and twists my hand painfully, bringing me down to my knees. Wait. How did it know my name? “OOwwwW!” I howl in pain and glare at the monster. “Let me go!” It takes a beat for me to look past his bloody appearance. Those eyes. I know who this fucker is. The coagulated blood he’s covered head to toe in isn’t blood at all. It’s the red mud of the Blood River. The natural iron deposits make the water blood red. It’s so potent that it turns the mud on the river banks blood red as well.

Have you ever fallen asleep in a car and woke up in a bed? It was quiet the far opposite in Trix's case, wherein she fell asleep on the smooth, visually clean table of a diner and woke up with a face full of mud. Heavy rain droplets beaten down on her body which was covered by a soaked cloak and the mud around her, splashing a lot of muck on her. She raised her head completely blinded by the mud. Raising her hands to her face and dragging her elbows through the mud she managed to clear her eyesight.

“No cheating.” I open them, and instantly wish I were dead. Vienna’s wide, bloodshot blue eyes go completely still, staring straight up at the balcony—straight at *me*. Rambo lets out a harsh neigh and slows to a trot, as if sensing its work is finished. Within seconds, the agonizing screams die into absolute silence. The thrashing stops. The three other women lay motionless, dragged through their own blood. My heart hammers like a dying bird against my ribs. Four corpses lie lined in the red dirt below. Their eyes stare into nothingness. Their necks are mangled, their skin torn, bruised, and caked in filthy mud.

Blood sprays as bodies hit the ground. I focus on the ones that are coming at me, sending jets of flame and ice at them. They dodge and weave, but I'm fast and nimble, and I manage to take them down one by one. Marybelle is fighting with fierce intensity, and I catch a glimpse of her summoning a swarm of bees to attack her enemies.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: BLOOD IN THE DIRT (Liam’s POV) I turned from Elena and shifted mid-run, clothes tearing away as fur broke through skin and my paws pounded the dirt with fury. Mason and Caleb were already ahead, leading the warriors through the trees, but the moment I burst out of the woods, the stench of blood and rogues slammed into me like a wall, and there was no time to think, only to fight.

Quenten Yilmaz: Blood. Violence. Gut-wrenching, paralyzing screams. They follow me everywhere, including in my sleep. It’s like a reel of snippets flashing before my very eyes. Splatters of blood paint the walls. Screams of terror intertwine and become a single, continuous harmony of devastation that rings in my ears. Flashing balls of light ignite in the dark as illuminated bullets slice through the air, hitting everything in their path. Men drop to the ground swiftly, followed by a hush of silence.

Eyes… deep crimson, the color of wine freshly spilled across marble. I didn’t just wake up in a different body. I woke up in a different world. And not just any world. One I knew far too well. I had read about this place before—in a book called Blood and Moonlight. A gothic fantasy where ancient vampire courts ruled the night from silvered palaces, where ruthless werewolf packs prowled the wild forests, and where an uneasy truce held between fangs and claws… until it inevitably shattered. It was a story of war. A story of betrayal. A story where love was as fatal as any blade.

The rogues were sloppy, and for every one of ours that they took down, we took five of theirs. But they tired us out. The ground grew slick with mud and coppery blood, and as our legs grew weak from exhaustion, our men began to collapse. The horn came soon after. It was a low, mournful sound that echoed from deep within the mist. The rogues retreated. For a split second, there was quiet, save for the sounds of our warriors panting and dying. And then… Bloodmoon came. They walked from the mist, slowly, too slowly, silent as wraiths. Their feet didn’t even make the twigs crunch under them. At first, I only saw five shapes moving through the mist. Then, as my eyes focused, I saw ten. Then more.

the crazy crowd that loved the sight of blood. Suddenly, Blue Blood hit Neil in the abdomen, and he crashed heavily on the floor. Blue Blood instantly rose to his feet... I saw it again... the fangs, the inhumane golden eyes filled with bloodlust, and the claws that had replaced the nails on his fingers. He was ready to fight back with his ability. Neil was shocked—I could see the shock on his face as he crawled away from Blue Blood, who was staring at him with so much bloodlust. At the same time, Neil rose to his feet with his eyes glued on Blue Blood. I could feel his resignation to fight back as he extended his own claws again.