Black Butler Undertaker Manga Novels & Stories

Curt elbowed him, hard. Gretorian ignored them. His gaze pinned me again. “Very well. A deal is a deal. You want to know who hides behind the killings. Who wants your Honshu.” “Yes,” I said. He stepped closer. Too close. His hand lifted again, this time tracing lightly along my jaw. I held still, refusing to flinch. “It isn’t a man,” he said. “It isn’t a beast. It is a shadow. A fallen god. You carry his consort’s soul, Honshu. That black wolf of yours, Sheetal—she once belonged to him.”

Never showed mercy. He looks at Kael. Smiles. Missing teeth. "War criminal," he calls. Voice like gravel. "I will make this slow. For the sport." Kael says nothing. His eyes find mine. Gray. Steady. He nods once. I nod back. The signal comes. They shift. Both. Full wolf. Kael is gray. Large. Beautiful. The Butcher is black. Larger. Twisted. Wrong. They circle. The Butcher lunges first. Fast. Too fast. Kael dodges. Barely. Claws rake sand where he stood.

He held a combat shotgun like it was a toy. “Well, look at this,” the Butcher said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. “The prodigal son sitting in the hot seat. You really think you’re man enough to hold the Anchor, Dante?” “Go to hell,” Dante coughed. The Butcher walked over to Bianca’s unconscious form. He looked down, then nudged her ribs with the toe of his boot. “She’s the one I wanted. The wolfless bitch makes a better battery. More room for the code when there’s no soul in the way.”

My body hit hard, my back knocking against the ground. Around us, his soldiers moved with eerie precision, stacking heavy stone blocks into what looked like altars. Two of them. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained with confusion and dread. He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Since you’ve decided not to complete the one task keeping you alive,” he said, his voice low and venomous, “I’ll remove the cursed wolf from your body and place it into another.” He finally turned to face me. “Then,” he whispered, with the cruel delight, “I’ll kill you, slowly and brutally.”

making Koishi sign in response. 'I don't know why or how in the hell I woke up in a strange place or more like this Otome game Pleasure of Sinners. The place I was working before as an illustrator, making the characters' Koishi signs in response, still feeling the intense stare of the person who was said to be his butler. "Oh I also want to add that the healer is already half-dead by healing your previous jump from the balcony, then stabbing yourself, drinking poison, jumping in the water and many more, I don't really understand even though you knew how to swim how can you even drown"

The trench coat had to have been specially made given his enormous build. “Elder Sand,” the man seemed quite pleased to see Elder Sand. He walked over to the Elder and lightly bumped his heel against the Elder’s foot in greeting. “Elder Black,” Elder Sand nodded his head at the large Elder and responded to his greeting with a jovial tone. Just like Elder Sand, Elder Black’s name was a pseudonym. Every Elder gave up their name once they assumed their position, allowing them to still go about their normal business during the daytime. Elder Black had been given a name based on his color, for he was the only black Undead among the Elders.

“My father was there.” “What?” “He killed me.” A crack appeared beneath my left hand. Then another. The transparent floor split in a circle. Hayate grabbed my shoulder and dragged me back as the glass collapsed. Black water surged upwards. Something rose inside it. A tall glass coffin broke through the surface and locked into place before the altar. A man lay inside. Pale skin. Black clothing. Long dark hair floating around his face. His eyes opened. Silver. The coffin cracked from within. Ayame stepped closer to me.

The tattooed man kicked again, doubling me over as his foot connected with my stomach. "Any last words?" He sneered, leaning over me. I forced my gaze up, meeting his eyes. He grinned, warping the sun tattoo into an odd shape on his cheek. "Well?" I opened my mouth, about to cuss at him when he fell forward, covering me in a splatter of blood. I gasped. I'd thought the pain from him kicking me was bad, but the pain of his dead weight bearing down on my beaten body had me balancing the edge of consciousness. I looked up, trying to force the engulfing black away and met pale blue eyes. It seemed my guardian wasn't just a pretty face.

Laila was forced back three steps, her boots leaving deep ruts in the gravel, her arms vibrating with a dull, sickening numbness that she hadn't felt since the Bank of England. Takashi didn't give her a second to recover. He lunged forward, his long naginata slicing through the air in a horizontal cut aimed directly at her unprotected throat. The steel blade was no longer humming with a blue electrical current; it was coated in a thick, oily black smoke that carried the unmistakable, suffocating clicking sound of the First Soul Eater.

He has his hands in his pockets and is dressed in an immaculate suit which no doubt costs a pretty penny. “Itsuki, a pleasure to finally meet you,” I say with an outstretched hand. He walks over to me and shakes it, all while looking me dead in the eye. But then something odd happens - his eyes turn completely black for a split second before they switch back to their dark brown. In that split second, an image gets burned into my mind: a short, shriveled-up old man with an elongated head wearing a silken robe - behind him stood terrifying creatures.