Black Zetsu Novels & Stories

*Third POV* “Sir we are ready to leave within an hour,” Zen said standing a few distances away from him with his hands behind his back. Wearing a fully professional black jacket and pants along with black eardrops over one side of his ear. “You got everything ready what I told you to do?” Takeshi asked “Yes I did everything as you told sir,” Zen said looking at Takeshi through the reflection standing right behind him. Looking at himself wearing the white long t-shirt with different patterns over it, along with the black jeans. Waring the silver bracelet with the feather in the middle.

"He is pinned. The Iron Lotus isn't after Zev; they're after the Vessel. They will either seize you or kill Zev. He's disposable now." "He's your brother." Zara hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was the first human emotion I had seen from her. "He chose the Tribunal. I chose the Thorne name. The choices were made long ago." She finished wrapping the small pouch of herbs in a piece of linen. "Here. Chew this. It will help filter your scent, masking the black bond's pull. It tastes like ash and iron." I took the linen packet. "If this is neutral territory, why did Blackwood abandon it?"

Twenty Zetas stood in strategic positions with the flamethrowers and I kept their scents hidden. I felt the ghoul army as they advanced on us and Blaise pushed forward when the ghouls stopped walking and looked at us with eyes void of any emotion. Kai’s hands were already burning and I gave the signal to the twenty Zetas as the witch appeared in front of us, several feet in front of the ghoul army.

As the door slowly creaked open, Leon’s eyes immediately locked onto Zalethos Blackwood, seated on a raised throne at the far end of the room. Zalethos Blackwood, the Demon King, exuded an aura of authority that seemed to fill the entire room. His jet-black eyes were like bottomless abysses, cold and commanding, while the sharpness of his gaze radiated an overwhelming pressure. He wore a regal robe of deep purple, edged with gold, and every movement he made imbued with a sense of solemn dignity.

He turned, pulled the spear out, and broke the man's neck with his bare hands. “Fall back,” I shouted. “Archers to the walls.” No one listened. They were too busy trying not to die. And then I saw Zeth. He was already in the middle of it, covered in blood. Two Crescent wolves were on him at once and he was holding them both back with a sword in one hand and his claws in the other. Our eyes met for half a second. We had not spoken in days. We had not agreed on anything in weeks. But right now there was only this.

My eyes snapped open. Standing a few feet away from me, surrounded by swirling shadows, was him. Zerathos. My breath hitched. He was taller than I remember from the rebel camp, his body was draped in layers of black and deep red robes that seemed to shift like living smoke. His skin was obsidian black, his eyes were like endless pits of molten gold. Dark energy radiated from him, pulsing in waves that made the air feel heavier and made my skin crawl. He looked different. I wouldn't be surprised if he had wings on his back.

It is very difficult and time-consuming to get out without an excuse. Eta wolf Suzette has deep green eyes in her werewolf form and has blonde hair with a little black hair on the side of her head and a streak down the right side of it. It is always neatly brushed up, although in all fairness, it looks like a bird's nest. As an assassin of the Gravefur Pack, she always wears black and covers her face with a black hoodie. Ace Denzell of Dark Shadow Coven and Eta wolf Suzette of Gravefur Pack, despite being Moroi and Werewolf, they both loved each other very much.

Zhu Wushang then slides his back on his backrest and slants sideward with one hand lazily supporting his chin. Zhu Wushang gave out an ultimatum with a cold smile while Blacky starts to transform. Many tentacles appear with a dog-like mouth that is made of bone at the end of each tentacle. Many crimson red eyes appear on its head; each eye looks hungrily at the exposed limbs of that man in black.

Aki and Temujin nodded grimly. “Who else is there?” Temujin asked. “Well, there’s your old enemy Ganzorig. There’s this bomb expert and firebug, Zonghuo. Lastly, there’s Zaterra who’s a… nobody. He doesn’t have any clan or ki powers because he was an orphan from the Far West. He wields crescent moon knives and claims to be the pioneer of a technique he calls the Drunken Fist. Personally, I think it’s just his excuse to drink a lot.”

New rich. I follow my lovely partner who sits in a small table in the corner. “On your right.” I hear him mumble with a low voice. I turn and search between five men sitting together until I spot a familiar face. Akiyama Tatsuki. The waiter approaches our table and asks, “Would you like to order drinks?” The Black Tiger points to a drink on the menu card and the waiter stares at me shyly, “Hum, just coke for me. If you have it of course.” I chuckle awkwardly.