Novel & Cerita Profane Soul Blood Hunter

I flew backward, my back hitting the concrete pillar with a sickening crunch. I dropped my rifle. The air was gone from my lungs, my vision swimming with black spots. The Enforcer stood over me, his violet eyes cold and devoid of anything resembling mercy. “You are a baseline human,” he vibrated, the sound rattling my teeth. “You are a structural flaw in the new world. You will be removed.” He raised his arm, his fingers glowing with a concentrated violet light. I knew what was coming. He was going to hit me with a focused acoustic pulse that would turn my internal organs into jelly.

The air felt cleaner outside, the weight of the room lifting from my shoulders. As we drove away from the motel, I could feel the thrill of the hunt coursing through me. Mikhail had underestimated me, and he would soon learn that was a grave mistake. He had messed with the wrong man, and I wouldn't rest until he was brought to justice. Mikhail would kneel before me, begging for mercy. And when that day came, I wouldn't hesitate. He would pay for the pain he inflicted, and his blood would be the only offering that could satisfy my wrath.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, I was not only scared for myself that I had handed my heart over to this man, I was also scared for his people, I needed to know what inspired such hatred to murder his people. “You want to know the truth? I will tell you.” He strolled from the throne towards me, “The world I told that was built by me and my two friends, these people are the descendants. We made a blood covenant that whichever one of us dies first, our power should be given to the next who was alive to maintain the balance of the park for greater good. Their fathers saw us as a threat and opted to end our lives. For each one they killed, their powers were absorbed into my blood, the same blood I

He exhaled slowly, the breath sharp from cracked ribs. “That woman,” he said coldly, “she wants to see us kill each other. That’s the only thing that excites her anymore. She craves chaos—blood, suffering, death… Call it whatever you want. It’s what feeds her.” He ran his fingers gently over the bruises near his collarbone, wincing slightly, then smirked without mirth. “I’m used to it.” “You can stop her,” the butler whispered, almost pleading. “You’re not like them.”

Just before I succumb to the darkness that pulls me, I hear it… “White hair. A gene of the moonblood line. Cursed. Prophecies surround them.” It’s a whisper in a foreign language. But somehow, I understand it. “The rest of them were killed. She’s the last of their kind, she must be killed.” And I succumb to the blackness. I don’t struggle, no, I go willingly. But just before my mind blanks, I make up my mind. When I wake up, I will leave Ashbane pack. I will run, and I will hide.

she asked. Karen had so many questions, and I didn't know how to answer her. I wished I had the answers, especially now, but I didn't, and it kind of made me feel bad. I knew I had to explain things to her a bit. "The Hunter family are supernatural hunters. They are human beings with special abilities to locate and identify people like me. They also can match our skills and kill us. They are the most dreaded bloodline of all the supernatural hunters. It was all fair initially. The Hunters made sure everyone followed the rules, and no one cheated anyone. We saw them more like judges, juries and executioners. Whenever there were issues, the Hunters would solve them. They could tell when we wer

"Keep it steady!" I regained my footing between the bags, aimed, then took another two shots. One hit his upper arm, the other his shoulder, but he kept coming, unfazed by the gushing holes. I shifted my weight onto my other foot and grinned. I might not have stopped him, but the Thornblood dipped bullets had punctured him, binding shade and host to the same satisfying fate. I fired one last time, hitting him strait between his soulless eyes.

Jesus Christ. She'd been cut somehow in the struggle; a gash on her upper arm was bright red, slick with fresh blood. And the scent and sight of it had sent her hunter attacker into a slavering fit of bloodlust. What kind of sorcerer are they? Someone who likes blood? His inner questions halted when he looked at Grace's eyes. It's pleading. Instead of going for the book, which the trio had no doubt been dispatched to do, the Hunter on Grace seemed rooted in just one thing—slaking its unquenchable thirst.

His head throbbed, pulse quickened and blood flowed through each of his veins at the speed of light. His body was burning in fury just like the dry dead branches burned caught in the flaming fire. Burned till the monstrous flame extinguished at last satisfied by turning the branch into ashes.