A Night Without Armour Novels & Stories

Diana raised her eyebrows and in an irritated voice she asked," So, may I know that important topic?" "Yes," Aarnik replied and got up. ' So, he has thought of the topic in seconds. Bravo man! Just don't let me die so soon. I still have to get a girlfriend.' Marcus mumbled, feeling nervous. "We were discussing the recent incident which happened in the military academy. Some rogues took away two armours from there which were new editions and one of its kind. Now that they have known about our new armour, they'll make it more advanced. So,we have to make more powerful armour and make it unique. So that we can overcome the traitor enemies' attack."

One man. My reflection in the glass looked feral. Desperate. Determined. "This changes everything," I growled, the words scraping raw in my throat. "The cartel isn’t my only war tonight." The rain hammered harder outside, sirens howled in the distance, and the clock kept ticking. Midnight wasn’t just coming. It was charging straight at me. And when it hit, the whole city would bleed. Suddenly, my phone buzzed against the table. Unknown number. Who could it be?

Shapes slowly emerged from within it. Tall figures. Human in form. Wrapped in ancient black armor unlike anything Grayson had ever seen. No cloaks. No robes. Only battered armor covered in cracks that glowed with faint crimson light. Each carried a broken weapon. A spear. A sword. An axe. Their faces remained hidden behind featureless iron masks. Noah immediately stepped behind Grayson. "They're the bad dreams." Grayson's grip tightened. "You've seen them before?" Noah nodded. "They used to stand outside my room."

"Guards, prepare the furnace and let her feel the wrath of my power." The guards, clad in their dark, alarming armor that seemed to absorb the light around them, immediately sprang into action. They dragged a large, blackened furnace into the center of the room, its metal surface already radiating heat, a testament to the horrors that awaited Nadine. As they stoked the fire within, the flames roared to life, casting an eerie orange glow across the room, bathing the faces of the onlookers in a sinister light.

Steel clashed against steel in a cacophony of desperation, the moon overhead casting an eerie glow on the battlefield. Amelia Knight's chestnut hair was slick with sweat as she parried and thrust, her sword finding the gaps in her foes' armor with practiced precision. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, the crack of pistols punctuating the night like deadly percussion.

the man repeated, his voice as cold as death itself. As he spoke, his aura grew more feral, exuding a savage and volatile energy akin to a wild beast's roar. His body trembled, and his black robe billowed violently. His sleeves tore apart, scattering into the air like shredded fabric. In that instant, a rust-covered armor emerged, encasing the man's body and leaving only half his face exposed. Chase's expression hardened. "A battle armor?" He had witnessed the power of such armor before in Capital City. An armor like this offered near-impenetrable defense, capable of withstanding even the most potent strikes.

LAYLA OPENED her eyes with a scream. She just had a bad dream—she was being chased by a burly and fully-naked tattooed man in an alleyway—whose whole body including the face and his bald head was covered with tattoos—holding a bloodied knife. She didn’t know if she was injured or wounded in her dream or if that blood belonged to another person, an earlier victim, but fortunately, she woke up at the moment the man had finally caught up with her, brutally grabbing her by the hair.

"What do you want." He held up the metal bundles. "Nero's orders. Both of you wear these tonight. No arguments." He dropped his eyes to the gown Isolde was holding. "As beautiful as that would be — and it would be genuinely beautiful — tonight is not the night." He held out the armor. "Warriors only." We looked at the armor. Then at each other. It was metal. Heavy. The kind meant for wolves twice our size. Chest plates. Arm guards. Something that was either a helmet or a very aggressive hat.

His muscles flexed under his tight shirt and his jaw tightened. "Do you really believe that the only reason I keep you here is because of your parents? I am Damion Night I don't do anything for anyone unless it benefits me and my family. Think about that the next time you want to kill one of my guards and try and run away." With that he turned his back on me and stalked out of the basement.

The forest was a cathedral of shadows as our strike force moved through the darkness. Thirty Nightshade warriors rode in perfect silence, their horses' hooves muffled by strips of leather wrapped around each shoe. We were ghosts in the night, death given form and purpose. I rode beside Darius at the formation's head, my borrowed armor feeling strange against skin that had grown accustomed to servant's clothes. The throwing knives Moira had given me hung at my belt, their weight both comforting and terrifying. In a few hours, I would discover whether I truly had the stomach for war.