There Is No Devil Novels & Stories

"It is said that the race of Peacocks keeps mostly to the south. Are you setting your sights upon these parts as well?" "You misunderstand me, friend. I'm only here because of the tales I've been hearing about this human they call the Devil. A man of most described as brutal and high-handed. They say he's here, at the Sanctuary of Tetrarchy here in faraway northwest, hence I have come to meet him." He finished and turned to Yan Wushuang, "Are you him? The infamous Devil?" "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Master Kong," remarked the Zombie chieftain, "He's not the Devil. The Devil has been missing for three years. No one knows where in which Heaven-forsaken corner of the world he is now."

She wouldn’t belong to anyone. Not even the devil.

The devil is killing not just the supernatural creatures, he is killing the humans as well but luckily he hasn't revealed the existence of the night creatures Dear readers please check out my other novel on W******l "A Deal Is A Deal."

After a long moment, he stammered, "Y-you… you're a messenger of the Devil! Brothers and sisters, this one represents the Devil! Attack! We must kill this messenger—or the Devil will find us and kill us all!" He had always controlled people with his Devil theory. Hearing him speak now, the crowd stiffened, their eyes burning with murderous intent again. Ray smiled faintly. "Wrong… wrong… wrong. I am not the Devil's messenger. I am the Devil."

I⁠ couldn't spea‍k, did he sen‍se anyt‍hing? Di⁠d he⁠ know? “I had col‍d feet,” I said softl‌y. He smiled. The pr⁠iest spoke, words‍ abou‌t love, words‌ ab⁠out l‍oyalty‌, wo‍rds abo‌ut forever. Forever s⁠ounded like a‍ locked‍ room. My mind raced. Wh⁠at if he found out? Fear pressed against pride, pride fought back.

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

My eyes were still fixed on him till he shifted away. He gave a faint, breathless laugh, but there was no humour in it—just disbelief. “Now I think I finally understand why they called you that. You’re the devil's mate, so it makes sense.” I'd rather be with an angel right now. “Don't say it like that,” I sighed. “I haven't done anything to earn that name and it's not like I actually wanted to be his mate or anything.” “Everyone knows the White-Eyed devil made the soil fertile again. The White-Eyed Devil handled a shapeshifter alone,” He said smoothly. “It's been years— decades since one has even been spotted and trust me, the chances of defeating one are close to zero.”

"And what if you are?" His lips curved. Dark. Dangerous. "Then you should pray, Elena Rossi. Because the devil does not let go of what belongs to him." He turned and walked away. I stood there frozen, realizing I had walked into a cage made of gold and glass. And the devil held the only key.

Devil looks furious, but there’s pride and admiration in his eyes too. “Just a question, big bro,” I say. “Do you always let bitches speak for you, or were they lying about you not wanting me here? I’m guessing the latter, but hey, you never know.” I wipe the blood off my knuckles with my jeans and wait for his answer. “Bitches were lying. I never even talk to them. I just fuck ’em,” Devil says. He’s not looking at me, though... he’s eyeing the unconscious women on the floor.