Black Butler Dagger Novels & Stories

He should take this slow and steady. “Let’s see those weapons you were talking about.” Salj stared at the door where Yuki just left through for a few seconds. Then he sighed and went to the closet. He took out several things, a claymore, a bow, a sword, and a staff which he gently placed on the table. The weapons were all completely black with wooden texture and appearance, except for the handles and guards. The weapons all had a series of exactly 10 runic writings engraved on them.

Each piece is more ornate than the last. Spears tipped with obsidian. Crowns twisted with iron and bone. Daggers so delicate they looked like they could bleed air. His eyes locked on the middle blade—a silver dagger with a blackened hilt shaped like two wings crossed in flight. It shimmered faintly. Faint glyphs, once hidden, now caught the low torchlight, glowing like embers beneath the surface. “Why this one?” he thought, breath shallowing. “Why does it look like it’s waiting for me?”

It was a pair of eyes peering into the back of her head. Everybody got in their fighting stance on top of their bikes. They knew the power of Lisa's intuition. Krisan even pulled out her Dagger, The Dagger's handle was black and had a black golf ball-sized energy core where the handle and the blade met. Curiously, the blade was not metal but pure energy with black vapors coming off of it. The dagger looked evil and ominous; the aura coming off of it made everyone feel a shiver down their spine.

“How about we find her first before I answer any of your questions" Erebus let out a small sigh. "You want precision?” He said. "It requires blood.” He extended his left hand without hesitation and brought out a black dagger from his pants, revealing his pale skin before slashing it. The dark blood welled before he let it drop a few times to the ground. Erebus knelt before the fire place, the ash wasn't warm enough to convince them that they had been here recently but the most important thing was that there was still ash.

The dagger was finely crafted, looking like an ordinary small knife at first glance. "Try the mechanism," he urged. I picked up the dagger, feeling its perfect balance in my hand. With a subtle twist of the handle, it opened to reveal the sharp silver spike I had designed. Satisfaction surged through me. This was exactly what I'd envisioned – an innocuous-looking weapon that concealed a deadly surprise. After paying the remaining money, I carefully secured the dagger in my inner pocket. As I turned to leave, the blacksmith called out. "Young sir," he began, his voice hesitant. "Would you be willing to sell the blueprint for this knife to me?"

One of them looked at Sophia's chest with disdain, "There's nothing else that matches except her boobs!" Helma sat silently on a chair. Sophia stood there with a sinister smirk. "Lady Devil?" The two of them continued to be disdainful. Helma turned away silently. Sophia opened the furry little bag. "Black Widow?" Out came a sleek, lethal-looking dagger from the cute furry bag! She played with the dagger, spinning it like a high school pen-turning champion. The sharp blade danced between her fingers, reflecting the light with each turn. It was so fast that she would lose several fingers if she missed.

It was flat, dry, and completely devoid of life, like dry autumn leaves scraping across concrete. Katherine’s smile widened, her dark eyes flashing with a wicked, victorious light. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The high priest turned toward a young acolyte, who held up a velvet-lined silver tray containing an ancient, ceremonial obsidian dagger. The blade was dark as night, its edge sharp enough to split a single hair.

“Shorter.” A dagger. The word hangs unspoken in the air. “What kind of dagger?” Aven asks. Sybil’s brow furrows as the image sharpens in her mind. “Old,” she says slowly. “Very old. The metal is dark. The edge is chipped in places from its use.” Her eyes flicker. “..but it’s sharper than any blade I’ve ever felt.” I glance at Luther. He whistles quietly. “Sounds friendly.” Sybil’s expression doesn’t change.

The dagger lingers at my throat. I keep my eyes on Caleb’s, wanting him to be the last thing I see before I die. Yet, the length of a breath comes and goes. And then another. All of us are frozen. The blade has come no closer to my throat. “Do it,” Gladys demands. Her smile starts to become more snarl-like, her teeth flashing dangerously, rather than grinning. The butler is strong, with one arm around me, the dagger at my throat. For a long moment, he does not move, not to act nor to pull away.