World Painted Blood Slayer Mga Nobela at Kwento

Jon looked at the painting and was immediately transfixed by the glowing eyes of a dark creature that appeared to be coming out of an abyss. The red eyes seemed to glow even brighter the more Jon looked at them and he felt paralyzed under the creature's hypnotic stare. He felt as if he were floating and being led through a tunnel of concentric circles of smoky grays and coal black, down a spiraling path into what chasm the creature seemed to have come from. Jon felt himself falling into that unknown world which seemed devoid of light and color as screams of agony filled his ears.

Blood is spilled on the once pure ground, coloring it scarlet. I know this dream. I had seen this so many times. The only difference is that it is real and not a dream anymore and I can see this brutality with my own bare eyes. And can smell the hard scent of blood in the air which makes me gagged. Sea of people wearing the black and blue cloaks are mercilessly snatching the soul out of their opponents not carrying whose life it is. Their pupils are black as their magic is. Another blood-curdling scream boomed out, this time it's from the sky. Where creatures with big white wings are fighting against black wings. They have their bodies wrapped in metal armors and their horrific swords in the

***TRIGGER WARNING: Up until now, this story has been fairly tame. From this point forward, Wolfblood takes a dark turn. For those who read the first book of the series, Wolfbane, this book is much darker and deals with more serious, real-world issues. If you prefer light-hearted romances without violence, I advise you not to continue. If, however, you enjoy thrilling werewolf romance novels, please continue with Wolfblood! I promise it's worth the ride.***

He was horrified by the image, so he immediately scrolled down to the website's context and read it. “Werewolves are people who morph into vicious wolves, according to some legends. The weaker ones look exactly like a normal wolf and can be seen in some cold weathered parts of the world. The powerful ones are mutants—a combination of human and wolf. They have a hairy human head with sharp fangs, elongated sharp claws, and a fur-covered human body. But both are bloodthirsty beasts who can not control their lust for killing. They have a thousand times more senses than anyone else—”

I suddenly felt a big hammer pounding my head, causing me to hold on to the bed frame and close my eyes because of dizziness. A sudden scene crossed my mind. Inside, the cell with a red werewolf facing Alarick and Convel. “A sanguis.” Both Alarick and Convel said as they were staring at a two-tailed red werewolf. In return, the red werewolf gave them a low growl. Instead of being scared, Alarick and Convel looked fascinated by the sight. The bloody color of the werewolf is shining as well as the two tails it keeps on swaying.

I can still remember the first time I took the life of another man as clearly as it had been yesterday. I have killed many. The bully Inquisitor, the desperate prostitute, the unloyal soldier, the alcoholic priest, the grumbling ferrywoman, the repulsive and manipulative bloodsucker of the Moroi clan, the rude undertaker, the half-deranged militia soldier, the pompous nobleman, the master of the wizard's guild, my own apprentice, the big-whisked rat catcher, the stupid adventurer who fancied himself a hero, the innocent twins, the greedy thief.

Alex and Victoria are a vampire couple who live peacefully in a small town. They do not like to kill humans, but rather drink the blood of animals or voluntary donors. They also have many human friends who respect and protect them. One night, they hear news that there is an evil vampire clan called The Bloods who plan to rule the world by making humans their slaves. The Bloods are led by an old and powerful vampire named Lord Draven. He has an army of vampires numbering in the thousands, as well as some brainwashed humans.

Father shook his head. “She declined it. She made an announcement, much more like a curse, drenched in blood, standing in the bloodied pool of dead bodies in the middle of the battlefield, looking dead into Micah’s eyes. She declared that, like Micah had made her and her bloodline suffer… the demonic werewolves will return and wage sixty-six wars against the outer world. In each war, the outer world would be trashed by evil not just from the demonics but by their own people as well,” father said.

The leader of the slayers stood out from the rest, his movements a blur as he relentlessly pursued the king's men. Ah, he was the most different! His sword sliced through the air with deadly rigor, leaving a trail of bloodied bodies in its wake. The blade itself was a gruesome sight, stained with blood from hilt to tip, with droplets dripping ominously from its edge. The leader's hand, too, was drenched in the crimson liquid, a witness to the bloodshed he had unleashed. The chaos caused by the slayers continued unabated, with men desperately scrambling to save their lives.

We had our kind sprout throughout the city; we were worshipped, but then, one after the other, they died, leaving me behind. Roaming. Alone. I stood at the corner of the battlefield, invisible to the eyes of the wolf warriors; they fought in their wolf forms; they had put on fire, and it spread wide into the forest, slowly burning deep into the verse land. Blood painted the field. Lifeless bodies, both in wolf and human form were at every corner of the field. The weak ones who had given up on the fight fled for their lives. I have nothing to do with this treacherous, absurd activity; let them end their lives and let their blood be on their heads; let it be painted on their palms and in their