Beetle Blades Novels & Stories

Against creatures with ropey muscle and exposed tendons, the left blade narrowed into a cleaner, thinner line made for precise cuts at the joints. She moved through the battlefield as though the wind had claimed kinship with her. A tentacled beast struck from her blind side; she bent with the current and let the appendage sweep past her cheek, then severed it in two bright strokes before the creature could recoil. A hulking thing with a skull shaped like a war hammer charged through the gore toward her. Araheen leaped, landed lightly atop its crown, drove one blade down through the ridge between its eyes, then dragged the other along the length of its back until the body split wetly apart.

“I prefer a double bladed sward.” “I know. Vincent told me. That is why I bought you this.” Ethan grabbed a box that I didn’t realize was even there. Pulling out the most beautiful set of blades I had ever seen. They each had a tri-angled blade with three prongs at the base. Once twisted together, they made up one long double-bladed sward. Each handle was custom to fit my smaller hand, but he had it engraved. “Luna Grace…” Etched into the blades in delicate script, I was blown away.

“To create viable evidence.” “No,” I shake my head. This is a custom-made, one of a kind blade with only two others in circulation and he expects me to just leave it here? A two thousand one hundred dollar blade? No way, I would rather do time and snuggle it in. “I’m not leaving it here.” I tell him, “Use yours.” “Mine is a different make, Ale.” Alessio sighs. “How the hell did you even get that one?” I shrug, “I know a guy.”

The blade goes over my skin, drawing blood, but I barely feel it as I look into Leo’s gorgeous amber eyes. “BEAST!!! THEY’RE COMING!!!” Axe comes barreling through the woods, covered in blood.

We just passed the 12 weeks mark. “Rissa and Gabe will help you practice and get used to it.” I just nodded and pulled the knife from its sheath. It was beautiful in its own deadly way. I didn’t know shit about knives, but I was sure you can kill pretty easily with a blade like this. “The blade is a high density silver alloy, so don’t cut yourself,” Gabriel chimed in. “I won’t.” I gave him an offended look as I put the blade back and closed the box on it.

Bronte said. Them three investigated and saw that the collector was in excess of ten centimeters over the ground. There were four tiny and dazzling steel gadgets under it. There was a steel pen blade inside. The steel ring outside proceeded to turn, and they saw that the speed was not extremely quick. Notwithstanding, the cutting edges looked curiously sharp.

He asked seeming to get annoyed with that sentence, his hands seeming to pull me even closer to him as though I was in his protective bubble, and nothing could hurt me there. “I had just returned home from a pretty intense training day, I was being taught how to use the claw spiked blade, only the most professional of fighters even pick them up and most of the time, they are never used in battle. But Bennett believed that with the right training, I would be able to master them.” I said thinking back to how sharp those blades were, I truly had never seen such a blade like it since and wondered who was deranged enough to invent such a thing. “Only the most professional of fighters use them and

We both decided to be silent for the rest of our walk to war. As soon as the Alpha called for action, Beckett shifted into his cecaelia, grabbing hold of a rogue vampire with two of his tentacles and pulling it's head off. It's dust quickly became one with the mud, and I nodded my head at Beckett as I quickly turned the blade of my sword backwards to stab a troll that was running at my back. Clearly, he made the mistake of assuming that I was an easy target. Beckett nodded back at me before we both went our separate ways into the fight.

“For our leader.” Alex exhales slowly. “I didn’t ask to—” “We know,” Eve says. “That’s why they’re yours.” Mazikene unwraps the cloth. The blades catch the early light immediately. They’re a matched pair—slightly curved, long enough to demand respect but not so heavy they’d slow her. The steel is darkened, patterned subtly, like smoke trapped beneath the surface. The hilts are wrapped in deep red leather, worn in just enough places to suggest they were meant to be held, not displayed.

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.