Black Chainsawman Novels & Stories

Snapping my fingers, I activated the soundproof systems, and then the speakers, which blared a haunting Italian ballad. ♫ “È una catena ormai, che scioglie il sangue dint’e vene sai…” ♫ (It’s now a chain that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…). The bound man behind me mumbled incoherently as I perused the wall of tools, spiked whips, brass knuckles, chains. Piercing and crushing devices. I picked up an electric saw.

" A hand cloaked in black mist emerged from Shadow Guardian's sleeve as he clawed at the air in Sean's direction. The eight black chains hovering behind him shot forward with a fierce whooshing sound, aiming straight for Sean. These chains moved with lightning speed, crossing each other to seal off all of Sean's escape routes before stabbing down at him with deadly precision. Sean's eyes flickered as he observed the eight approaching chains. The Shadow Guardian's mastery of these chains was evident. The chains themselves were exceptionally sinister, especially the strange runes etched along their length. They exuded an eerie energy that made Sean's heart race with unease. Sean was against co

A soft and very delicate voice spoke up. I see a black-haired man with a reddish tinge reminiscent of dripping blood, an expression of sadistic pleasure, he wears immaculate white clothes and in his hands a staff made of a kind of wood, but with pieces of flesh embedded between the sinuous notches, at the tip an orb that seems to be made of smoke. There is nowhere in me that wants to forgive this being and so I advanced against him, trying to connect my right fist against his face, letting the light concentrate around my wrist.

“STOP! DON’T YOU DARE TAKE A SINGLE STEP TOWARDS HERE!” The shout that was full of rage and fear distracted me, and I noticed the bodies that were lying on the ground before I lifted my eyes and saw a pack of Black Claws accompanied by Shadow Werewolves snarling behind them. What caught my attention, though, was the man wearing all black and holding a child! A civilian boy. “Who are these people?” Samantha hissed with dread as she looked around. Five dead people. Probably campers? Travellers? Who the f*ck would camp in the middle of the Black Forest!?

“Then we hit harder!” Sasha darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a set of snapping jaws. She thrust her dagger forward, the silver blade sinking into the creature’s side. It howled in agony, the silver burning its flesh, and Sasha twisted the blade for good measure before pulling it free. But the momentary victory was short-lived. Another creature appeared behind her, its claws raking across her arm. She cried out, stumbling forward as blood dripped onto the ground. Ethan roared, his eyes completely black now as he tore through the creature that had hurt her. The darkness in him surged, his movements more savage and unrestrained. He ripped the creature apart with his bare hands, his growls

Smoke billowed through the opening, and we ducked behind what little cover the cramped room offered: Hail behind a stone pillar, Lena beside an overturned table, me crouched behind a massive iron chest. Six figures pushed through the smoke, weapons raised. They wore mismatched armor cobbled together from scavenged materials, but their movements were disciplined. At their center stood Kade Blackthorn, looking like he'd walked straight out of the apocalypse and decided to become its poster boy. He wore a hood pulled low, but I could still see the calculating gleam in his eyes as they swept the room. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and his mouth curved into that peculiar, cold smi

Damien urged, his hand still clutching hers. Elena pushed herself harder, her lungs burning. They rounded the corner, her car finally in sight. Relief surged through her as she reached for the door handle, but Damien yanked her back just as a figure emerged from the shadows. The man was dressed in black, his face obscured by a mask. In his hand was a crowbar, the source of the chilling sound. “Get behind me,” Damien said, stepping forward to shield her. The man tilted his head, his stance casual, almost mocking. “You’re slipping, Black,” he said, his voice muffled but laced with amusement. “You used to be harder to track.”

The air in the North Tower’s deepest sub-level did not just carry the scent of dust and neglect; it carried the heavy, metallic tang of a past that had been buried alive. Silas Blackwood moved through the stacks of yellowed ledgers with a frantic, desperate energy. His gold-and-sapphire skin, a permanent brand of the divine unweaving he had endured, cast a rhythmic, flickering light against the stone walls. Each pulse of his aura felt like a heartbeat, irregular and pained.

Three months of uneasy quiet splinters when the first body shows up on the southern logging road. Elena is the one who finds it—out at dawn, running the border with two of the boys in a makeshift sling against her chest. The body is a Black Claw, but what’s left of his head is twisted, half torn, skin peeled back so the rawness of bone glitters in the slanting sun. Dead wolves are not a rarity, but this is no border fight. This is a message.

The clearing fell silent again, save for the sound of chains clattering as the slaves shifted uncertainly in the cart, their wide eyes fixed on the strangers who had just torn their captors apart. The three wolves shimmered, shifting back into human form. Gasps rippled through the cart. If the sight of them as wolves had been terrifying, their human forms were something else entirely. Each one was tall, broad, their bodies carved from strength and shadow. The black-haired warrior bore scars across his chest and arms, each mark a testament to battles survived. The russet-haired one carried a fierceness in his gaze that could cut steel. And the white-haired man, lean and sharp, had a beauty al