Novel & Cerita Blade's Edge

The obsidian blade goes through the grey Harvester’s plate as though the plate is warm wax, and the cut does not slow at the armor the way every law of the physical world says it should, because the engine is at full and full means the blade carries my entire frequency into the steel ahead of the edge, and the steel forgets, for one impossible instant, how to be solid.

Tobias and Nicholas rushed in just in time to see Whitney collapsing to the ground, clutching her injured arm. She held back tears, but the wound was enough to shock them both. "Cordelia, what are you doing?" Tobias' face darkened as he picked Whitney up and walked out without looking back. I was just about to explain, but a sudden, violent shove from the side sent me reeling. Before I could react, the blade in my hand sliced into me. The silver spread instantly through my body, exacerbating the damage. My breathing became labored, my heartbeat erratic as I collapsed to the ground in agony.

Three feet in and he wobbled like a newborn deer. I bit back a laugh. "Something funny, Cole?" he snapped. "You. Obviously." I circled him slowly. "Hockey skates have two edges. Figure skates have one. You're fighting the ice because you don't know how to find your center." He didn't answer. Just pushed off harder, trying to prove me wrong. His left foot slipped. I moved on instinct and grabbed his arm before he ate it. For half a second we were locked together - my fingers wrapped around his forearm, his hand gripping my shoulder for balance. He was heavier than he looked. Solid. Warm.

The wound was so long and deep that the sight of it produced a cold rush through my chest. "Edna!" I called toward the entrance. She was already coming down the steps with her medical bag. "Silver?" she said when she reached us,to Zayden. "The blade was silver edged," he said. "One of Ashmoor's command layers." Edna's expression did the jaw tightening thing. "Inside,can you walk?" She said, "Yes," he said. "Then walk," she said. He stood up and did not entirely succeed in making it look easy.

one voice sang. “We’re already here,” the other whispered as if in my ear. And the fog began to move. I spun around, instinct taking over, and my glowing hellblade met steel. The clash rang out sharp and shrill, sparks exploding between us, lighting the fog for a split second. The impact numbed my arms all the way to the shoulders, the vibration rattling my teeth. Twin blades. Short, curved, mirror-bright daggers crossed against my sword. As I looked up, my heart froze.

he instructed, his voice steady but firm. His team immediately complied, scanning the surgical site with careful precision. Every vessel had to be examined, every stitch secure. Even the slightest uncontrolled bleed could turn into a catastrophe. Marcus observed as his assistants moved efficiently, scanning for leaks, ensuring that no silent danger lurked beneath the surface. The seconds stretched, but soon, the verdict was in—no active bleeding. The bypass held perfectly. It was time to close.

I stepped forward, my pulse quickening as I realized where that gleam came from. The MirrorBlade. I had hidden it in my safe, buried behind layers of wards and locks. But now, the safe itself seemed to glow faintly, a strange brightness spilling from the narrow crack as I opened it. The blade’s edge glowed fiercely, and strangely the light was angled in a precise direction, pointing north. Even in the dim of the study, the glow was unwavering, unnatural. I lifted it carefully. The moment I took it out of the safe, the faint glow intensified, forcing me to narrow my eyes. Amusement stirred despite the tension.

I'm just about to drive my blade through Jonathon’s heart, finally, after all the blood and games, when movement flashes at the edge of my vision. Instinct takes over. I pivot mid-strike, blade skimming wide as I counter with my elbow, narrowly blocking the oncoming blow. The force behind it stings. He steps out of the shadows, tall, composed, his black hair slicked back like he walked out of an old portrait, but those eyes, those glowing red eyes, scream hunger, control, obsession.

The man's daughter, tiptoed as he bent over for her to reach Axe, her small fingers reaching out to touch Axe's bruised arm, whispered, "It's okay, mister. Papa will take care of you." ‘I came here to find a kid to raise into an indomitable bodyguard that will be loyal to you for life, and yet you chose such a weakling and useless thing?’ Chairman Blade thought, staring down at Axe and then at the worried way his daughter glanced at him, her tiny hand holding onto hid dirty ones as tears trickled down her peachy cheeks.

Under the sunlight, the blade's edge reflected a blinding, cold light. Even the panicked Fabian squinted and instinctively dodged.