Bard Parker Blade Novels & Stories

Blight, Ryker’s Gamma, steps forward with a grin on his face. He’s dressed in all black like me, with blackout tattoos covering his neck and arms. Short cropped blonde hair, grey eyes, tall but muscular; I’ve heard tales about this Gamma that rival my own. He has a penchant for killing humans in the most gruesome ways, and his favorite weapon is a JagdKommando knife; the deadliest of blades as it has three edges that spiral together like a corkscrew into a sharp tip. No doctor can sew up a wound left by this knife.

Switchblades are the go-to weapon for almost every street gangster and gang member, and far more people are killed by switchblades each year in the United States than by guns! "What if I said I'm not going to get out of the way, and I want you to give the bag back to that lady over there?" Li Jie's voice was cold. If he was a gangster like this, Li Jie wouldn't mess with him. But gaining the ability to be an E hero today gives him the confidence to take on this punk, who is armed with a switchblade, not a Colt M1911.

“Here, please change these cutleries for a set of new ones.” Zack was befuddled. Parker had ordered for his cutlery to be taken away on the spot. It was apparent that the older man was keeping his distance from him. Watching his cutlery get taken away, Zack was so angry that his hands were shaking. The gaze that he gave Javier brimmed with resentment.

The movements are deliberate, the way a wolf digs when it knows exactly where the prey is buried. I hand Michael back his tablet and glance at the larger displays. The most promising contenders are front and center. Phineas Parker—second son of his pack, hungry to prove his worth now that he can’t inherit. His blade carves into a giant spider, the creature’s armored shell splintering under his relentless strikes. Not many can pierce spider chitin so cleanly—he’s already taken down two, his face carved in focus, eyes burning with purpose.

“Parker! Go to die! ” Vina's dull expression instantly returned to normal, and became extremely cold. She did not hesitate, and the sharp ice blue ice blade like a dagger had already been inserted into Parker's thigh, and was now being firmly hammered in by her again! “Crack!” Parker was directly shot down and fell into a big tree. His whole body was blood, and he was extremely miserable!

From my wrist sleeve, I slipped out my insurance policy. It wasn't metal. Metal would set off the magnetometer wands Jarrah’s enforcers would undoubtedly sweep over me before I stepped foot inside the cathedral. It was a five-inch, customized carbon-fiber blade jet black, feather-light, double-edged, and completely invisible to security scanners. It was a quiet, lethal piece of engineering I’d bought off the black market two years ago. Carefully, with methodical precision, I slid the sheath into the tailored pocket built within the heavy boning beneath my left rib cage. The blade sat flush against my ribs, hidden entirely by the cascading layers of lace and reinforced satin.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

He knows he's got to prove he's tough enough and deserving enough to marry Jess. Blade trailed the knife around his throat and then down his chest towards his crotch. He stabbed right between Axel's legs into the chair merely inches from his cock. Axel still didn't move or speak. "Think we got a tough guy here, huh Sarge?" Ryder asked. "My turn." Ryder pulled out his gun. He aimed at Axel's right leg and pulled the trigger. It just clicked. Axel did close his eyes but immediately opened them. He aimed at the left leg, click. Axel clenched his jaw.

PARK— Not proof. Not safety. Not answer. A cut edge. A hook. And somewhere beyond it, the rest of the name waited.

He rented a shack on the edge of it, close enough to hear voices, far enough to disappear. For a week, no one came. For two weeks, no one asked questions. On the third week, he built his first blade. He had always known how. Enzo’s voice echoed in his hands. Grip here. Balance there. Steel listens if you respect it. He sold the blade cheap. The buyer came back two days later with another man. Then three. Then strangers began arriving. “You make weapons,” one said. “I make tools,” Lucia’s son replied. The man tested the edge with his thumb and hissed. “This one bites.”