Black Butler Dagger นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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.

I slipped on the brown sandals, an almost perfect fit, before I went and stood next to his beloved TV. "So?" I said, giving him an unsteady spin. He raised an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, trying not to let my second wave of disappointment sting me. "Aren't we late or something?" He nodded, using the remote to turn off the TV. "Let's go." He grabbed his black jacket off the table and slipped it on, not bothering to change. The soft leather was well cut, made for him, with a single white band sewn into each sleeve just below his shoulders.

"I had no idea that he was following me." On one of Adrian's more spirited—and expensive—stallions, Wilbury arrived riding up. A bow and a quiver of arrows, a leather strap with several stakes of varied lengths, and a blade that appeared suspiciously like a kitchen carving knife were among the many weapons that the butler was carrying. His skeletal body was bent nearly double by the weight of these weapons. The butler was leaned over the saddle. Even worse, he had stuffed a vintage flintlock pistol into the waistband of his worn-out knee breeches. He made an effort to act confident, but it still seemed like he'd be more at ease in the back of a hearse.

She looked around and activated the mic, “All clear.” “Two agents are on their way,” she heard the boss say. Vicky cleared her throat and opened the door to be welcomed by the sound of the medical devices connected to the patient’s body. She pressed her lips when she saw Black Tiger lying on the bed. His naked torso was covered with scars and bruises. Bandages were around his chest, where he was shot. Vicky felt sad even though she and the mysterious agent have never shared a conversation. Black Tiger is someone calm, almost invisible, but his presence is very strong among them. He doesn’t need words to prove to the agents that he’s the best of all of them.

A black dagger whistled out from his side, chasing after Chase. The black dagger was of extraordinary quality. Its blade was engraved with complex, mysterious runes, each one brimming with terrifying power. The speed of the black dagger was incredible. In the blink of an eye, it closed the distance between itself and Chase, then slashed down viciously! Chase's expression changed drastically as he felt completely locked in with no way to dodge. In the split second before impact, Chase could only raise his sword to block in front of his chest. The force of the impact split the skin of Chase's palm, sending a sharp, agonizing pain shooting through his hand that forced him to gasp.

Inside the Wild Goose restaurant, in front of the VIP room, a line of men in all-black suits and sunglasses, standing face to face, lined up at the door. Inside the dark VIP room, Nicholas twirled a glistening pointed dagger, with skill and practice. The dagger was his favorite thing that accompanied Nicholas everywhere. The sleek shape and carving of a dragon along the length of the blade, with a pointed point, and a gold handle, made the weapon as Nicholas trademark. With that dagger called the Gold Dragon, Nicholas could not only stab at close range, but also throw it at long range targets. One of the men on Nicholas' right side gave him a long jet black coat which Nicholas immediately pu

He must really respect his father. “How come are all the weapons so clean?” I ask, looking at the minuscule Sigmond crest in the hilt of the sword “It looks like they’ve been well maintain all this time.” “It is be something about the door, I suppose.” Zen says, and I turn around to find him looking through a trunk I walk over to him just as he pulls something out. A set of daggers, maybe a little bigger than Silver Death, made of gleaming black material. “Is this what we’re here for?” I put my hands on my knees to lean down for a closer look. They look like piece of obsidian, Zen and mine faces reflected in them.

"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."

Silas didn't respond, his fingers unwrapping the cloth from the blade in slow, deliberate motions. As the fabric fell away, my eyes widened at the sight before me. The once gleaming dagger had transformed into a shadowy, obsidian-black weapon, as if it had absorbed the very darkness that plagued us. My breath caught in my throat, a wave of awe and unease washing over me. "Silas, the dagger..." I began, my voice trailing off as I glanced at the thread encircling his wrist. Its once vibrant hue had dulled, a sickly blackness spreading through the fibers.

He approached it. "It belongs to my mother," Ansel replied, his voice heavy with melancholy. He delicately lifted the dagger, cradling it in his hands. I wanted to ask more questions concerning the weapon but I hesitated. I could sense the depth of emotions attached to the dagger. "Can I hold it?" I asked politely. "Of course." He handed the dagger to me. The steel handle was adorned with intricate designs. The blade was silver and razor-sharp with an engraving. I couldn't hide but marvel at the dagger's beauty.