Blackwall Cyberpunk Novels & Stories

Pulte replied. A person who'll be also taking the exam started having a conversation with Pulte. "Oh, I'm sorry for my bad manners, I'm Tim, Timothy Black. I'm also taking the recruitment exam for the defense department." Pulte noticed his family name is Black. It's the same family name as the commander of the wall guards. "Black? Like the commander of the wall guards, Dmitre Black?" Pulte said. "Yes, he's family." And both of them talked as they walked towards the building.

And I was going back. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and forced myself up off the counter. I had to be strong. Papa wouldn’t want this. I packed enough for a couple days and before I knew it, I was getting off a plane and walking down the runway in a trance. It all went by in a hazy blur. I didn’t remember leaving my apartment, let alone getting on a plane, but here I was, just outside the airport. I hailed a cab and told the driver where I was going. He chuckled and raised a bushy black eyebrow. “Blackwater, eh? I don’t think I’ve ever been,” he leaned closer to the rear view mirror and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard rumors about the people there.” I perked up. “Really?” I was cu

Cassian stepped back a little, as if distance could change the weight of it. Marcus looked directly into the camera. “They built Blackbird to break minds. They built Daggerfall to break the world. And when it fails because it will fail they’ll look for something to salvage. Something to control. Something to rewrite again.” The camera wavered slightly, like whoever was holding it flinched. “Don’t let them. Don’t try to save the system. You burn it. All of it. And if you don’t know how…” Marcus smiled faintly.

I had to get out of there, but not before I peeked inside the secret room. I took the pen that he let fall and drew the songbird code on my wrist. I then made out in search of my way towards it. Once I got to it, I knocked. Just as I suspected, they inquired for the code. I exposed my fake tattoo then suddenly, the door jolted open. It revealed a long, stretched, bare, dark corridor illuminated by red and pink neon lights. Was it some sort of club? The girl who had opened the door, stepped out from behind it and pushed it, closed. She had red hair which most of it was tucked under her black beanie. She had on a black mask covering the lower part of her face, her eyes the only ones visible.

Brambles had spread everywhere, festooned over the yawning archways, branches reaching out inquisitively as if trying to push in through the thick walls. The house was woeful and an eyesore, being consumed from within as well as without, but still, it bore the remote marks of grand antiquity in its giant frame and foundations, deep inside its moldering bones somewhere. It was an echo from another time, and for that reason alone the township of Blackwater Valley would never bulldoze it down. It waited for the Reverend, the Orchestrator—deserted and mute and harboring its secrets there, leering out at him with a kind of primitive, terrible purpose.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 The bass doesn’t thump here—it prowls. Heavy, hypnotic, primal. It coils around the flesh and glass of The Black Fortress, a fortress of sin carved from obsidian glamour in the belly of Yerevan. Outside, it wears the face of an elite club: mirrored doors, velvet ropes, godless wealth. Inside, it breathes sex and shadows. Past the layers of bodyguards and biometric scans, past the velvet-smothered corridors and diamond-threaded curtains, lies the VVIP lounge—where pleasure turns into a weapon.

The entrance to "The Silent City" was not marked by a grand gate or a marble archway, but by a sickening, vertical descent into the crushing pressure of the North Atlantic abyss. Accessible only via a pressurized, titanium-reinforced elevator hidden beneath the rusted skeleton of a decommissioned oil rig, the headquarters of Cybers Biotech was a masterclass in cold, clinical terror. It was a cathedral built of hubris and salt, buried where the light of the sun could never witness its sins.

The "Black Bloom" did more than just rewrite the city’s DNA; it rewrote the physics of the war. In the wake of the Great Edit, the Gutter was no longer a collection of rusted tenements. It was a dark, pulsing thicket of obsidian-laced vines that resonated with the frequency of the Aether-Core. The Directorate’s scanners couldn't see the streets anymore; to the satellites in the exosphere, Neo-Tokyo looked like a dead, light-absorbing crater, a "Ghost-City."

"The Council can't afford to let the other sectors see the Vindicator broken. They will execute their secondary fallback protocol." ​"The Blackwater Extraction Facility," Julian rasped, stepping down from the weapon platform, his burning gray eyes locking onto Vivian's face with a fierce, possessive intensity. He reached down, his large hand firmly gripping her waist, pulling her back against his chest with an unyielding warmth. "The automated prison complex on the western edge of the lowlands. It’s the only fortress they have left outside the Inner Dome with an independent power core."

Black shouted, in a deep, raspy voice with a slight hoarseness, completely different from Zain 's, especially as his shriek was angry. “I’ll finish you,” Jon muttered to Black laughing sarcastically, “No one can finish me, Jon.” He was not surprised that the other knew him, he knows how smart his opponent is. "Yes, I can finish you when I finish this girl here," he sneered, only to be shrieked by Renee afterwards! without even touching it Zain and his wolf almost went crazy. Black turned to Lucas, who recites spells and curses, did he get his book back without noticing!!!