Black Butler Dagger の小説・ストーリー

Nicola’s breath came in slow, measured inhales as she stepped toward the pedestal. The dagger pulsed - alive in a way no weapon should be. The blackened blade wasn’t smooth like steel, but layered, like cracked obsidian fused with something darker, something ancient. Veins of crimson flickered beneath its surface, shifting like molten fire trapped beneath glass. It hummed, as if whispering beneath her skin, calling to her, waiting. The hilt was wrapped in worn leather, the grip fitted for a warrior’s hand, but its craftsmanship was unmistakable - this was not a common weapon. It had been made with purpose.

In front of him, Elias knelt— but it wasn’t Elias, not truly. This version of him was clothed in something strange—elegant, ceremonial, stained dark at the edges with what could only be blood. His eyes—those damnable, unforgettable eyes—shone with something between defiance and heartbreak. Lucian tried to speak, but his throat burned. No sound came out. One of the cloaked figures stepped forward. A gnarled hand extended. In its palm—a dagger. Black metal. Ancient. Humming with a malicious life of its own.

The silver-black haired picked up the black 1918 trench knife from the table and joggled it a bit. 'As promised, I won't waste your time. However, I want you to know before you die that your daughter is already dead.' The man's eyes widened, but before he could speak, the extra sharp blade was thrust into his throat. With a good amount of strength, the silver-black haired forcefully dragged the knife south, tearing the man's chest and stomach open.

Luca reached into the chair beside him next. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t say much. He simply held out a long black box toward me. I took it carefully and opened it. Nestled inside dark velvet was the most beautiful dagger I had ever seen. The handle was matte black wrapped with dark leather, elegant and deadly at the same time. Slowly, I lifted it from the box. It balanced perfectly in my hand. My thumb brushed over something carved near the base of the blade.

Belief. I had given all three. The scars lived on my skin. My mind held the names of those who died in divine silence. My faith had fractured under what I had seen—but I stayed. And tonight, I would give more. I stepped onto the dais and lifted the ceremonial dagger—the Black Blade. Not forged metal, but obsidian fused with the bones of priestesses who had died mid-prophecy, minds split by divine madness. It could cut through flesh… and fate. I drew it across my palm again, deeper than before. My blood struck the altar and hissed.

Nathan then instantly flipped over the air and stands at Zitrey’s side. Slayer smirked from the unexpected hit he receives. He tardily holds his long blade katana while tapping it on his shoulder. The dull part was colored in black while the sharp one was in shiny silver, and in between, they were a dark purple in a zigzag pattern. The weapon was scary enough to make goosebumps, it seems possessed by the shadow of death. Slayer then uttered while staring intently to Nathan, “I will play with you lad. You seem fun.” he then looked at his remaining troupe, “There are still few people upstairs, so babies, kill the rest~”

The silver blade of the "System Dagger" did not draw blood when it struck Kaelen; it drew "Static." The moment the tip of the weapon made contact with the boy’s chest, the courtyard of the Blackwood Keep exploded in a flurry of grey, redacted pixels. Kaelen let out a shriek that sounded like a thousand glass bells shattering, but his body didn't fall. It "Lacked."

Our tongues danced together, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. “It's been a long time since I had a taste of you, sugar lips, didn't you miss me?” She suddenly spoke. She swerved around and soon the edge of a shimmering dagger was posted at my neck. I snorted disdainfully, relaxed and unperturbed by her threat. “You've always been silly with your moves and it's pathetic that you never follow the rules.” “Hmph! I'm not at all falling for your tricks, Malevolo, I need the diamonds! Don't dare my dagger, it knows no face.” She pressed the dagger even closer to my skin, making slight cuts, blood began to drip.

"I really hate this." "I know." "You are definitely your mother's daughter." Lyra looked pleased. Kael looked exhausted. Orion looked entertained. The elder stepped forward carrying something wrapped in cloth. "This belongs to you." Nova accepted the bundle carefully. Inside rested an ancient silver dagger. Its blade shimmered with strange markings. Power radiated from the weapon. "What is it?" Orion's expression became serious. "A Blackthorn blade." Nova's heart skipped. The mark on her wrist immediately glowed.

His scarred hand extended forward, holding out a long, heavy dagger enclosed in a scabbard of tarnished silver and cracked black leather. It was Thomas's old Beta dagger—the sacred weapon that had been passed down through generations of the pack’s second-in-command, its hilt still dark with the oil of his fallen friend’s palms. Devon stared at the weapon, his eyes widening as his breath hitched in his throat. He slowly reached out, his trembling fingers curling around the silver hilt, feeling the heavy, familiar weight of his true biological father's legacy anchor his grip.