Berserk Puck Novels & Stories

“Cover me.” Then the bastard sits cross-legged on the battlefield and closes his eyes. “Are you crazy, motherfucker?!” I yell, killing a demon lunging at him. “You can’t just zone out in the middle of a war!” Puck opens one eye. “Sure I can. Just did.” “I fucking hate you!” I snarl, gutting another demon. “Love you too, sweetums,” he murmurs, then closes his eyes again and brings his hands together like he’s cupping a ball of light.

Chad stood in front of the Yggdrasil seed, fully prepared for a desperate counterattack. Back in the underground chamber of the Williams Village, he had crafted three inner pills, using only two in his fight against Marshawn. The last one, the most potent berserk pill, was still in his stomach, wrapped in his inner breath. Just moments ago, when Samuel had sealed him, Chad feared that he might accidentally consume the inner pill without the protection of his inner breath. That berserk pill was Chad's ultimate trump card, and it would have been a waste to use it carelessly. Fortunately, after forcing out the eight black needles, Chad found that the berserk pill was still intact.

Ezra is not afraid because the other's goal is himself, but he also secretly thanks God because protecting Selena is simple as long as he could know the other's purpose. "Okay" Two black wolves with similar black fur, the most pronounced difference are their eyes. A pair of cold blue eyes clashed with a couple of fiery yellow eyes. A ferocious growl, sharp teeth. Their breaths were hot, and their heroic aura could not be underestimated. Ezra flew towards his opponent extremely fast, his sharp claws like blades attacking head-on. The mystic was someone who had also practiced sternly for years, so avoiding him was easy. He quickly switched from a passive position to an active attack.

She was a good girl, raised on safe promises, and watching the entire Hayes empire catch fire wasn't exactly something she was built to handle without spiraling. I stepped onto the heavy rubber matting, intending to march straight into the corridor and head for the showers, when a massive body bumped hard against my shoulder. I flinched slightly, my jaw clenching as I looked up. It was Miller. My giant defenseman and on-ice partner was towering over me, a massive, stupid grin plastered across his thick face. He had his helmet tucked under his arm, his messy brown hair sticking up in every direction, and he was holding his phone out right in front of my nose.

Someone yells his name like it's a prayer. He skates to the bench. Doesn't sit. Just stands there at the boards. Helmet off. Hair wet. Sweat dripping down his neck. Then he turns one last time, and he looks up, holds it. The whole damn rink could disappear and it wouldn't matter. It's just that stare. Deep. Patient. Like he knows exactly what's happening in my chest right now. I hit send on the live update before the final buzzer. My fingers shaking. 'Carter's hat trick seals it, but the real show was the way he played like the puck owed him something. Selfish? Maybe. Effective? Undeniably.'

Looking at its rampage after it slammed on the ground, Kirou guessed that this must have been the last skill he saw for the Swampland Crocodile King, Berserk Mode. It was unknown when, but if one was able to look at Kirou's face currently, they would notice that while his smile from finding the boss monster never changed, there was a blazing fire of excitement within his eyes. It seems that the Swampland Crocodile King's berserk mode stimulated something inside of Kirou.

Following the unsheathed Dragon Scale Sword, a wave of black-colored cold radiance rushed into the sky, shooting towards Lucian. Berserk. This black light was unusually wild and violent, as if it could tear apart the world. * Bang! * Lucian's eyes widened. He wanted to dodge, but the black shadow was too swift, not giving him any breathing room. “Puchi~~~” After being struck by the black light, Lucian wailed in anguish. He spat out a mouthful of blood and immediately sprayed it onto the white snow. “Berserk sword intent!” Yang Xiao was surprised a lot.

He's become my refuge. At the rink, a fan approaches me. Drunk. Loud. His eyes are glassy. His words are slurred. His breath smells like whiskey and desperation and anger and resentment and bitterness and entitlement and loss. His clothes are dishevelled. His steps are unsteady. His face is flushed. His hands are shaking. His voice is rising. His eyes are wild.

“Well, someone's all flared up. I can almost see how the hair on your neck stands out. Makes me start to think your wolf really is weaker. You're definitely not a beta.” “That is none of your business.” “The required rank to join hockey teams in this pack stops at Beta. You're not one. That's really shady. Really really shady.” And then, I heard the sound of the blade scratching the ice and the puck running out of my hold. I let out a grunt before turning around. My eyes stayed pinned on his backview. That bastard. I started skating hurriedly. I had to get back the puck and win. A lot was at risk.