Black Clover Nozel Novels & Stories

I pulled it open, revealing a sleek, black velvet box. Inside — a collar. Unworn. Untouched. I'd had it made months ago. Custom cut. Soft black leather, matte, no tag yet. I hadn’t known who I was waiting for. But now... My thumb ran over the inside edge of it. Noah's name would look good on the tag. A small lock. Silver. Eventually. Not yet. Let the boy fight. Let him spit sparks. Then let him crawl. I slid the box shut. Later, I told myself.

"What's this?" "Fan letters." 'I'm so dead,' she muttered inwardly. Clover bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself to stay awake despite the stinging pain. Blood was leaking. The cuts around her wrists had gotten deeper, and a trace of metallic smell drifted along with the lavender scent. In fact, it was noticeable if one paid enough attention to it. "Kyle, can you get my backpack in the trunk?” 'Trunk?!' She jerked.

"Do you think they’ve sensed us?" "I’m not sure," Nol admits. "But that doesn’t matter." Reaching into his pocket, he produces three darts that are sticking out between his fingers. Remaining in place, he waits until the men come into view and then flicks his wrist, letting them escape and jab into the men’s necks before they even have the chance to alert their friends. When they hit the ground, we move, rushing forward while being careful not to make any sound in case there were more guards present.

A song Knox used to whistle when we were kids, working late in the shop. I leaned over the railing, my heart leaping into my throat. "Knox?" I hissed. A figure stepped out from the shadow of a massive oak tree. He was dressed in tactical black, his face obscured by a hood. He looked up, and for a split second, the moonlight caught his eyes. They weren't grey. They weren't violet. They were a flat, lifeless silver. The figure didn't speak. He simply raised a hand, mimicking the motion of a gun, and "fired" a phantom shot at my heart. Then, he vanished back into the trees just as the estate’s secondary sirens began to wail.

She patted my cheek. A curious warmth surged through my chest at her praise. I was somehow stuck between feeling like a pet who performed well for his master and an errant child who finally made his teacher smile with pride. "Now, I'm going to hook these," she held up a collection of what looked like stainless steel links with an odd shaped contraption on either end, "to your body. They're called clover clamps. The more you wiggle, the tighter they get. One end is going on your dick; the other on your tongue." She waited for long moments in silence.

A guard shack came into view, which was really just a doublewide trailer the trainers hauled all the way out here to act as surveillance. Unlike the Circuit, you weren’t actually allowed to kill the other trainee’s during Capture the Flag. Amidst the crowd of trainer’s hanging around the guard shack a shrill laugh hit my ears. Really, I should’ve kept my eyes on Hakeem and the conversation we were having, but my subconscious seemed to sense that Nox was nearby. I craned my head a few inches to the left and found him staring at me, his azure eyes bright like polished gems, even in the dark. There was a blonde at his side that I didn’t recognize, her hand flush against his chest as she laughed

He snapped his fingers as he sighed. His hair that hung freely on his back were suddenly lifted by an invisible force, and were braided and decorated with small white flowers between the crest of the braids. "Okay done." The braiding finally stopped and he twisted the doorknob. Black. That was what greeted him the moment the door was open, a fully black surroundings. No forest, not even any buildings on the background, completely black. "What...?" Noel stared at the darkness in shock. He fumbled the black surroundings and his eyes widened.

the woman who had traded the stars for the soil. ​Kael stood on the jagged cliffs of Graham Island, his eyes—a striking, unclouded hazel—fixed on the horizon. At nineteen, he was a scout of the fourth generation. He wore a tunic of woven cedar bark and a tactical vest that had been patched so many times the original camouflage was a ghost. On his hip hung a "Hush-Blade"—a piece of obsidian-edged steel that didn't vibrate, didn't hum, and didn't leave a trace.

It was a pathetic and undeniable craven existence but it was how they were winning the war. Dave let out a sigh. "No. He used a HG blade." I nodded. A brilliant man named Henry Gomez spent his life developing a UV spiked, but essentially silver based liquid that could be applied to any metallic object, leaving a coat of active poison that would kill both shade and host upon entering the their shared body. Something in perfectly balanced formula temporarily imprisoned the shade and as long as the wounds you inflicted on the human were mortal, the shade shared the same fate. The HG liquid had become as precious to us as light bulbs. It was hard to come by at the best of times, especially out h

Mell laughed even more of the sight. "Have a little taste of these!" Claros also had unleashed his Scion Weapon from his platinum watch, a pair of handguns he called as Tempesta and Hurricana. The guns could shoot out compressed air that traveled faster and hit stronger than normal bullets. His every precise shot completely eviscerated his targets. "Alright this is nice and all, but how do we evacuate these people?" Claros asked as he kept shooting. Mell crushed another Chimera with Balor. "We gotta find a way to destroy the force field! We can't leave through the way we came in. There's too many of them, too dangerous!"