One Piece Devil Mga Nobela at Kwento

Asura gripped the bodies of the bandits who did not let Arya stand up. He burned their faces and bodies to ashes. Fortunately, the bandits chose to back away from Raka's body. They all trembled at the sight of a tall creature with a hideous appearance. This was the first time they had seen the true form of the devil. Some of them even fell to the ground with their mouths wide open. "What do you want?" Asura turned to his friend.

Isla Pov The walls of Saint Valeria Academy buzzed with pre-summer chaos—half laughter, half shrieking, and a whole lot of people pretending finals didn’t nearly kill us. Suitcases rolled. Tinsel sparkled where it definitely shouldn’t (because why was someone decorating the lockers in July?). The dorm hallway smelled like hairspray, overpriced perfume, and goodbye tears. One of my roommates, Delilah, sprawled across her bed in the middle of our disaster zone of a room, flipping through an issue of Teen Vogue with her AirPods in and a massive grin on her face. She hadn’t even finished packing. Classic Delilah.

“Of course he does. The Devil always does.” He blinked at her, unsure if she was joking. She leaned in slightly, adjusting the collar near his neck as she whispered, “Listen to me, cher garçon. The Devil cannot be understood, nor can he be coerced. You may think he loves, you may think he destroys, but really, it is all the same to him. It is all just… instinct.” Her eyes flicked toward Kain, who was now idly folding a page from one of his documents into neat, exact creases. “Keep your guard, mon ange. Always. You will be fine if you remember that.”

“We weren’t told. We swear. Just… paid by someone we never even met, and...and it was a lot of cash, so we just took the shit. That’s it.” I tilted my head. “And you thought you’d have a little fucking fun with her too, huh?” His eyes widened. “It wasn’t my—” I didn’t let him finish. The blade sank into his thigh, slow, deliberate. "Ghaghhh!" His scream echoed off the concrete. I pulled the knife out just as slow, watching his body jerk against the chains. “Wrong answer,” I said coldly. “Now think again.” The one with the scar was shaking harder now, face pale as shit. Blood dripping down his chin.

As the heavy doors swung open with a loud creak, the scene inside the throne room made her blood turn to ice. In the middle of the room knelt a man whose body was already covered with blood. His clothes were torn and soaked red, and he was shaking violently from pain and fear. Standing in front of the broken man was the devil himself - King Malakar. He was holding a whip embedded with thorns, drops of blood still clinging to the cruel metal spikes. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his clothes were splattered with crimson.

The methods he uses for killing or ‘talking’ aren't jokes. “Trust me. It’s my fucking business,” Devil says, stepping closer. Now they’re nose to nose, well, as close as they can be. The girl barely reaches his shoulders. “And how is that?” she dares him, eyes cool. “He’s my old man,” Devil says. In the corner of my eye, I see Chaos, Devil’s father. As usual, his face gives nothing away. “Ah, that’s fine then,” she says. “I’m Violet. Apparently… you’re my older brother. Steven?”

Moreover her hair was tough black and hands were fully tattooed with strange pictures. Other than this her eyes was no more doe-eyed like an innocent one but it was a beady black, shiny, impenetrable obsidian eyes. The most terrifying feature of her was the tattoed figure of a boy face in her neck. That tattoed face had some similarity with our cute little Abigal's face. "Abarat! Abarat! Abarat. Come here", she roared more loudly like a exquisitely horrid witch. While roaring the tattoed face on her neck was exposing and one can clearly say it was Abigal's face.

A ruthless underworld heir and a disgraced investigative journalist are forced into a fake engagement that ignites a dangerous, all-consuming passion. Their love is tested by betrayal, power struggles, and a conspiracy that threatens to destroy them both.

But I just offer her a smile and pat her shoulder before walking out of the room, shoving my hands into my pockets. There I see, Devil sitting on a couch while reading through a fashion magazine that is in his hands. Or maybe, he is devising a plan on how to get a new girl for business? Shrugging to myself, I walk up to him just as he takes his eyes off of the magazine and settles them on me.

Suddenly, one of his men raised a gun to me and the other forcefully bent my head in a bow “No one dares to stare at the boss like that.” the gun holder said in a hoarse voice. “Release her.” Dante finally said in a cold and distant tone. The men turned to him. Had he just told them to release her? Dante would never let any offended go unpunished. That was against his rule and no matter the gender, the punishment was equal. I was surprised because I was expecting him to order his men to have me beaten up, or worse still, for my hand to be cut off.