Black Butler Dagger Novels & Stories

"You're welcome." Hellion was still laughing like a hyena. Kiema turned back to him, her smile melting into a glare. She closed her eyes, muttered something that moved her lips the smallest degree. When she opened her eyes again, she held a dagger about the length of her arm in her free hand. It was a shimmering black and looked sharp enough to filet human skin like a hot knife through butter. Hellion's laughter died a quick death. The sound of silence was loud after his prolonged braying.

“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.

"Only there can I awaken her holy blood. She's bound by dragon tears that come from that place." Our conversation had to end when Jonea returned with a black wooden box about 30 cm in size. "Is this city you mean?" Eve nodded. She asked Jonea to place the box on the table Eve cleared. I just watched the two women from the corner of the room. Eve opened the black box after unsealing the locking runes. Eve took something out of the box and handed it to Jonea. "What's this?" "Black bone dagger," Eve cried. "Black bone is a scarce weapon-making material. Usually used by witch. I found bits of black bone and turned them into this beautiful dagger. I think he really suits you, Jonea."

Such a wussy, can't believe Simran slept with this coward. “You are Black Heart.” the girl muttered. I didn't reply to her. My focus was on my prey. “Stanley. A few years ago, you violated my soulmate. You committed a sin against me and against God. I have come as a punishment unto you. If you had not committed this great sin, I would not have come to you. But rejoice oh sinful one, for today you shall make atonement for your great sin.” I said to him as I took a dagger from my suit pocket. The S dagger was invented in 2003 by the Americans. It's also known as the Butterfly knife.

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.

BELLA Inside the box lies the dagger. The blade is no longer a silver metal. It is pitch black. Runes pulse along its surface like veins. A thin lock of hair—my hair, Vespera's hair—still winds around the hilt. It should have rotted away centuries ago. Instead, it gleams as if it was freshly cut. Whispers fill the air. Hundreds of voices—crying, begging, and screaming. Rhain drops to one knee.

“You’re not going to touch me.” “Aren’t I?” She raised her hand, and from inside the sleeve of her black suit emerged a dagger. The blade was curved, shiny, with runes engraved that pulsed with a faint red. Pure silver. “An enchanted silver dagger. Cuts Lilim like butter. It’s a precaution. In case you resist.” “I will resist.” “I expected you to say that.” She advanced.

"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.

Each artifact hummed faintly, a chorus of restrained power that pressed against my senses until my breath came shallow. Riven’s hand brushed my lower back, grounding me. “These haven’t seen moonlight in centuries,” he murmured, awe and unease threatening his voice. But my attention had already been stolen. At the center of the vault stood a black stone altar, unmarred by time. Upon it lay a dagger. It was slender, elegant in a way that made my chest ache. The blade was forged from a metal darker than iron, veined with silver that pulsed like a heartbeat. Its hilt was wrapped in worn leather, smooth from hands long turned to dust.

At my nod, he tilted the box toward us, lifting the lid with careful movements. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay a dagger I’d never seen before. The hilt was ornate, silver and obsidian twisted together in patterns that reminded me of the prophecy texts, while the blade itself gleamed with unnatural sharpness. But it was Amelia’s reaction that turned my blood to ice. “That’s the knife,” she whispered, her voice hollow with horror. “The one Sera keeps showing me. The one from the visions.”