Crimson Fists Chapter Master Novels & Stories

The next few minutes are fuelled by anger and a new form of hope. The master doesn’t appear to be with them, I keep searching for him with my head but I am unable to find him, whether that is because he doesn’t want to be found or he is incapacitated from something I don’t know but I keep fighting. Monsters charge forward whether because that is the masters orders or because they want to I don’t know but they keep coming. I can hear Ash grunting and the clashing of his sword when it meets monsters claws. The blood has started to cover not just my clothing but the bitumen as well. But there is nothing that will stop this renewed belief.

Stamp followed the can thrown in the air, dodged at the lid of the trash can and landed on the floor, spilling some of the little drops of the fluid. "Well, what the hell, man? I know you're godd*mn rich and has a lot of maids walking around your f-ing mansion to clean every dirt you make, but it ain't here, man!" Stamp exclaimed as he turn his gaze back to his friend. "Oh, come on. Leave it and let the ants sip that. Let's go get some ink." ■■■ "Nice, nice, nice! Well, what the hell, man! You got yourself an f-ing pussy on your chest?" Stamp ejaculated as soon as he viewed what Mahiriko just got to drawn on his skin.

Vikram pushed the door open, revealing a cavernous chamber bathed in crimson light. At the room's center, on a throne-like chair, sat the Master. The Master's gaze commanded attention, his piercing eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. His skin was deathly pale, yet radiant with an unnatural glow. Chiseled features, sharp as cut glass, seemed carved from the very darkness itself. His raven-black hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall of night, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying. Full lips curled into a sly smile, revealing razor-sharp fangs stained with the remnants of his last victim.

“There’s no way we’re letting you get to our master.” Master. The word pulsed like a gunshot through my head. He’d infected them. Or bought them. Controlled them, maybe. Whatever it was, this whole damn town—every building, every face, every whisper—was under that bastard’s thumb. And now they were looking at me like I was prey. But they forgot one thing. I wasn’t prey. I shifted instantly. The change ripped through me like fire, bones snapping, muscles bulging and rearranging under my skin. My snarl echoed like thunder as thick, black fur burst through flesh. I hit the ground on four massive paws, my claws carving deep into the gravel.

I have to admit that he's an imposing figure, with his wide chest and impossibly long frame. He stoops down and grabs the woman's chin, forcing her to face him. "I am Desmond Stewart and I am your master. From now on, until I free you from this bind, your will is no longer your own. You will forget everything that happens and your mind will be clear of any words, thoughts, desires, or feelings." He is glamoring her, and I am very confused. Aren't vampires limited to one attendant each by law? The woman's eyes seem to focus and unfocus, and a few seconds later, she smiles at him.

Her body trembled, legs struggling to stay still. He plunged deeper, curling his finger inside her. Plop—plop—plop. “You’re dripping,” he growled. “One finger and you’re already a mess.” Jasmine sobbed out a moan, her voice cracking with every thrust. “F-fuck—it’s too much—M-Master, I—” He yanked her hair harder, making her whimper. “Take it. You want to act like a brat, you’ll take every fucking second of this.”

They were his right and left hands, crucial to his power. The room fell into a tense silence, every head bowed low, no one daring to speak. When Crimson Wyrm Master was angry, the consequences were deadly. “Speak! Have you all lost your tongues?” Crimson Wyrm Master's eyes flashed with menace as he kicked one of his closest henchmen, sending the man sprawling. “Master, please, don't be angry!” The entire group dropped to their knees, trembling with fear. Cold sweat trickled down their foreheads, each one silently praying they would not be the next to fall victim to his wrath.

He then stomped down on the ground, creating cracks with his power that stretched toward the masters. Bam! Bang! Boom! They coughed blood and were thrown off, getting knocked unconscious on the spot. “Grandmaster!” One of the master-level fighters who was about to attack screamed, “Get Master Mason and the others!” Three grandmasters then put themselves in Kayson’s way. “Kid, this is the Friths’ place. There’s no room for your insolence!” one of the grandmasters snarled coldly in anger. Kayson looked at them and said, “I told him to get the Smasher out. Did Clifford Frith not understand me?”

Huh? "You're my slave. My personal slave and I'm the master here. I use you the way I want. Now, do your job if you don't want to regret having a tongue." He stated to her icily and stretched his arms out again as Sophia swallowed the lump down her throat and loosed his robe's belt, undressing him. "Now, that's a good girl." Ice Pick made a small silly smile and smirked. She finished taking off his clothes including the briefs he was putting on as he stood huge and naked before him with tattoos on his right arm and below his abdomen.

He knew that he couldn’t allow it to connect; but he wasn’t ready to dodge it. He may be a sword master, but he was also a fist expert. He bent his knees and brought himself closer to the ground. Mane’s left hand went underneath Elder Dominic’s fist and with a deft touch deflected the fist by striking the older man’s wrist. “Brimstone: Penetrating Fist” *Boom*