Dark Souls Undead Burg Black Knight Mga Nobela at Kwento

Since his debut, he had never been afraid of anything and had never been so threatened. “Black Dragon. I’ve got a crucial piece of information that I will exchange for my life.” “Oh?” James stopped, looked at the sweating Black Snake, and asked, “What information is it?” “My boss, Blake, is the founder of the Dark Castle. He has collected a great amount of wealth over the past thirty years. His treasures are enough to rival a country. His lifetime wealth is buried in an underground basement in Sol,” said Black Snake. “I’m not interested. You should know that I used to be the Black Dragon of the Southern Plains. I am in control of the Blade of Justice. Do you think I’m short of money? To me,

I know I was fucked up, but it didn't do any better when these creatures found their way to my home and dragged me out, only to throw me into chaos with a handful of their crazy siblings who I don't know how always bring the best out of a situation where all I can see is gray everywhere around me. "Any updates so far?" Logan leads me toward the table where our group is chatting and taking snapshots on their phones. Before taking my seat, I shook my head. "No, but they are still here." He passes me a drink, "Waiting for the order then?" "I don't take orders to. . . kill." I gave him a knowing look. Making sure no one could hear us, I leaned onto him. "Merely waiting for someone big to come an

Five years later… In the desolate border village of Dreadmoor Kingdom, near the edges of the known lands, flames devoured the night. The village was a picture of ruin — homes caved in, livestock scattered, children’s cries echoing across the smoke-choked streets. Dark, cloaked figures moved with inhuman precision, their weapons gleaming with a sickly red sheen. These were the infamous Dark Knights, the soldiers of the dark lord Kal. These dark knights who had stayed hidden for years since the war five hundred years ago, buried in the shadows had reemerged two years ago.

He would be the one to attack next. "Black metal is the conductor of energy that allows these undead to move as we wish. Brother, you would never guess that if all your brothers unite, they will create an incredible work of art. I donated this black metal to each of our dolls. That way, we won't have to get our hands dirty to kill you." Hirayaksa smiled from her altar in one of the rooms of the Nuswapala royal palace.

Two maids were busy cleaning up after the scene in the throne room while Dimitri and Darius were standing near the window whispering among themselves. My eyes couldn’t leave the body, or the spot where it once was. I’d never seen a dead body, let alone witnessed someone being killed. The most terrifying part was that it didn’t seem to bother Dimitri nor Darius. They acted like they did before, not as if a life was just taken. I started wondering who these people really are and what it meant to live under the roof of someone who is both a vampire and a mafia lord. A vampire was monstrous enough to warn anyone of any danger, a mafia don too, but put the two together and you got someone lethal.

“Stop. Don’t go out there!” “I can’t,” I cry. “I don’t know what’s happening!” Then something moves. Fast. A black blur swooshes past us like smoke with claws. It knocks into me, hard, and I hit the ground so fast the breath is punched from my lungs. “What the hell was that?!” I scream, scrambling up, sword in hand. Zev’s already moving. “A shuck.” “A what?!” “A shuck,” he says, his voice urgent. “Undead werewolf. Black as night. Strong. Fast. And impossible to kill.”

And somewhere in the castle, behind locked doors and ancient wards, Royal Beta Knox lifted a glass to the gray-cloaked figure across from him. "To Morgana," he said. The figure raised its glass in return. Its hood fell back just enough to reveal eyes that were pure black—no white, no iris. Just darkness. "To Morgana," it echoed. "Who never truly died." The candle between them flickered. And went out.

Unknown Location – The Depths of the Forsaken Vale The flames in the underground chamber burn green, casting flickering shadows across walls carved with ancient sigils. They pulse with dark energy, each a living shard of the curse etched into time. The Black Mage stands at the center of the circle, black robes clinging to his skeletal frame like smoke. His eyes, coal-pit red, fix on the firelight. He shows no joy. No fear. Only hunger. He feels it. The pull.

I gave a signal to my Beta. As she was dragged out, her screams echoed through the entire building. “Rylan! You’ll regret this! She’ll never forgive you!” Three days later. The Shadow Dungeons, deep in the Black Forest. This was where the Blackrock pack imprisoned its worst criminals. It hadn’t been used in centuries. The dungeon was buried deep underground, its walls made of special silver-laced stone that could completely suppress a wolf’s powers. I walked down the slippery stone steps, my footsteps echoing in the empty space.

The corresponding image was a swirling vortex of darkness, vaguely humanoid, a shape that seemed to hurt the eyes to look at. "The Deathless Chevalier," she continued, her voice growing more strained. "A cursed knight from the Dark Ages, bound by ancient, unbreakable runes. Each time he is killed, his body reconstitutes itself within three days, his strength and resilience marginally increased. He learns from every death." The screen showed a figure in pitted, black plate armor, the space behind its visor a horrifying, soul-deep abyss.