Novel & Cerita Bloodborne Saw Cleaver

A gloved hand clamped over the sentry’s mouth, muffling a choke as the blade flashed—KA-BAR, seven inches, serrated—slashing throat to spine in one clean arc. Blood sprayed hot, then slowed, the body slumping limp. Reaper eased him down, wiping the blade on the guy’s sleeve, then flashed a hand signal—one down, clear. Inside the perimeter, another agent hunched by a makeshift campfire—orange flickers licking the dark, embers popping faint. He’d been out here too long, hands rubbing raw over the heat, M16 propped lazy against a crate.

To sweat out the fear. I’m clearing a pile of burnt debris near the back door—what’s left of a booth—when I see it. A piece of heavy leather, half-buried in wet ash. It’s a cut. Or part of one. I reach down, dusting off the soot. It’s charred black, but the embroidery is still visible. A skull. A scythe. Reaper colors. One of the attackers must have dropped it, or... I turn it over.

A single flickering bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the concrete walls stained with age… and blood. “Some are dead,” Lycus reported. “Okay,” I muttered, remembering the ones I’d already dealt with earlier that morning. A rusted table sat in the center, covered by a patchy red tarp. Crude tools were neatly arranged beside it — bolt cutters, pliers, a hammer and a silver-coated blade gleamed under the dim light. Not ordinary tools. They were built for wolves. For pain that didn’t heal easily. The far corner held a grimy sink, dripping steadily. The drain below it glistened faintly — a mix of water and crimson.

I hissed in pain as the metallic stench of my own blood mingled with his, the blade having sliced through both my leather arm brace and the skin. I cursed under my breath and finished the rogue off swiftly. The knife clattered to the ground beside his now-limp hand, revealing a strangely beautiful silver hilt with a ruby embedded in it. Oddly ornate for a rogue—likely stolen. I took the knife and slipped it into the sheath at my hip.

Information would be permanently lost since the tablet would be destroyed in the debris. Clever. Cruel. But not quite good enough. In a state of failing consciousness, Sera pulled on the bond, not just for comfort but for power. Vampire energy flowed through the connection, mixing with her witch magic. The combination strengthened her shields and bought precious seconds. She felt hands on rubble above her, felt Lucien digging frantically. Felt with frantic certainty that the bond was drawing him to her. She tried to say, "I'm here," but her words came out as bubbles and blood.

“I had it removed! The surgeons, they cut it all out. Every trace of her taint! It’s gone. I’m clean. We can start over!” I stared. The procedure to surgically excise a claiming mark was notoriously dangerous. It wasn’t just flesh; it was tied to the blood, the subtle vampiric magic. Many who attempted it bled out on the table or were left with incurable blood-rot. It was a mortal’s desperate, stupid gamble. My silence seemed to fuel him. He mistook it for softening. He lunged forward, shoving two heavy, cloth-wrapped objects into my hands. The fabric fell away. I was holding two ornate objects: a slender, beautifully crafted silver dagger and a small, ancient-looking vial of holy water, its

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

“You’re lucky my wife is still alive. Otherwise, I would’ve sent you straight to hell without questions... and thank you for unleashing the devil in me” The room went quiet, the only sounds being the wheezing of the injured men and the dripping water in the corner. Moments later, Massimo returned with the electric saw. Its metallic teeth gleamed under the dim bulb. “Here, boss,” he said, handing it over. Leonard flipped the switch. The saw roared to life, filling the room with its terrifying buzz. He slowly walked behind the men, circling like a predator. He didn’t say a word, letting the sound of the saw seep into their minds and claw at their nerves. One of the men began to tremble.

The thick clothing that had protected them was now working against them—they were overheating, the mask making it harder to breathe. I grabbed the bone saw from where it had fallen. It wasn't designed as a weapon, but the serrated blade was sharp enough to cut through anything. The figure swung the knife in a wide arc, trying to open my throat. I ducked and brought the saw up, aiming for their forearm. The blade cut through their jacket sleeve and into flesh beneath. Blood soaked through the dark fabric. They screamed—a sound of genuine pain that the voice modulator turned into something inhuman. But the wound wasn't as deep as I'd hoped. The jacket had absorbed most of the impact.

He saw the honor in it as well as the pride. With a small shake of my head, I got inside the sleeping bag and rested my head on the pack. My special knife was right beside me. It was made of copper and mercury with pieces of silver imbedded in the blade. This knife was dangerous to other vampires, but I had immunity to it because it was created and blessed by a powerful witch. It would not hurt anyone who was descended from the Precoza line.