Novelas y relatos de Bladewolf Metal Gear

Until the door opened. No knock. No clipboard-carrying doctor. Just a man in a dripping black trench coat filling the doorway like he owned the building. Tall. Too tall. Skin pale as marble, eyes black and endless. Shadow Guard. Had to be. The elite vampires who patrolled BludHeaven’s cliffs and made sure no one—human or otherwise—crossed lines they weren’t supposed to cross. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t decided whether to solve or break.

The sound of fracturing carbon-fiber armor and snapping bone echoed through the lab as the assassin was lifted off the ground, crashing violently into a row of metal storage lockers fifty feet away. The fourth assassin panicked, discarding his heavy rifle and drawing a high-frequency vibro-blade from his hip. He lunged at Rhys’s throat, but Rhys simply raised his left arm. The vibro-blade slammed against the dense carbon-fiber plates of the moonstone wraps, emitting a shower of bright orange sparks.

It snapped at her face, its breath smelling of copper and chemical preservatives. She spun to the left, her silver movements fluid and weightless. She allowed the wolf’s momentum to carry it past her, but as it did, she drove her silver blade upward, targeting the unarmored gap beneath its foreleg. The silver energy coating the blade sliced through the tough hide effortlessly. The moment the silver entered the creature’s bloodstream, the violet light in its eyes vanished, replaced by a flash of blinding white light as the internal cybernetics short-circuited. The wolf crashed into the central console, sparking violently before collapsing.

He averted his gaze to Alpha Blake’s body laying on the ground, he drove the phoenix sword into Alpha Blake’s neck, separating Alpha Blake’s neck from his shoulders. “Kill them all” Alpha Ryder roared as he continued cutting Alpha Blake’s body into tiny pieces.

Ramon agreed, wrapping his arm around his mate’s waist. The Mate Bond Brawl was over. The shadows had been vanquished. And in their place, a legacy was born. The legacy of the Lunar Ailura and the Vampire Lord. A new era had begun.

Using the momentum of her hips, she drove the blade deep into the rogue's body. It was a custom self-defense dagger, its core packed with high-purity liquid silver. Squelch—! "AAAGH!!!" "You bitch!" The rogue never expected Elena to be carrying a silver weapon—a literal death sentence for a werewolf. Stabbed through the shoulder and his femoral artery, the liquid silver began searing his blood. He collapsed to the floor, let out a gut-wrenching scream. The second rogue let out a roar, his eyes turning bloodshot. Like a rabid beast, he lunged forward to help his partner.

SpeedBlade: I roar as I charge toward Lightning Storm, my sword in my hand. Running right up to the villain, I shove him back and prepare to strike him with my sword. However, as I am swinging my sword, I see out of the corner of my helmet three arrows directly in front of me. "Oh no," I say, seeing a tiny, blinking red light on them. It's too late. Even with my speed, I still can't get away in time. The arrows all explode. I scream once more as I'm knocked back, my sword falling out of my hand while I drop to the floor.

“Every bullet makes you mine, Maddox. You’re dancing to my tune, just like always.” I fired into the smoke, screaming back, “Come face me then, coward!” The laugh that followed was worse than silence. Two men rushed from the left. Blade moved fast, slamming Gage into one of them before burying his knife into the other’s gut. The man howled, staggering back with blood gushing between his fingers. “Still got it,” Blade muttered, ripping the blade free. “Less talking, more killing!” Nova snapped, swinging a heavy wrench she’d grabbed off a bike. It cracked against a biker’s skull, and he dropped, limp.

That he’d grown addicted. Blade moves first, sweeping the room with his scanner. Spade covers the rear. Their movements are crisp, almost soundless. These are men who’ve walked through death before and didn’t mind coming back. Tables line the far wall, littered with rusted tools, syringes, and vials still half-filled with something milky. There’s a cage pushed into the corner. Small. Too small. The metal inside is bent, as if someone, or something, had clawed to get out.