Dark Souls Undead Burg Black Knight の小説・ストーリー

No matter how many waves crash at it, it remains unbending. In the underworld, keeping your identity is vital to survival. It’s very easy to kill someone and have their families want revenge, even if your actions weren’t personal. So among hit people and assassins – yes, there is a difference – we are only referred to by our codenames. We tend to come about them based on our chosen kill method. I ended up being called Blackheart because I tend to exsanguinate my victims and watch them die and those who have met me describe me as cold and emotionless.

On his left hand, there is a black stick with the black ball at the end. With one look, Yao Tai knows what she is instantly. "Undead Skeleton Mage!" . . Yao Tie looked at the skeleton that was standing in the center of the room. Seeing this, he finally remembers his whereabouts. At first, he wasn't sure where he had found the [Soul Blood Throat], But now that he saw the undead skeletal mage's memories of this dungeon came to his mind. He remembered that this dungeon was called the Undead Sanctuary. Undead Sanctuary was a very large dungeon. It consisted of 12 low-level dungeons, 6 middle-level dungeons, and 3 high-level dungeons. The ruler of this place was the powerful zombies inside the hi

“You want me to stop? No! To you traitorous humans; I am your Daymare and your Nightmare. I am the Punishment of both God and Devil. If you all hadn't committed this great sin, I would not have brought this punishment unto you. I am... BLACK HEART”

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

My boots crunched against the abandoned gas station parking lot’s gravel as I stalked toward the driver’s side door, I slammed my hand down on the hood in a fit of frustration as Frank stepped out of my ride, lighting up a cigarette. I snatched it from his fingers, taking a long drag, hoping it would do something to take off the edge . . . but it didn’t. One of the many fucking side effects of being undead. “Jesus Christ,” Frank swore, taking back the lit cigarette before I had a chance to crush it. “I don’t have many left.” Exhaling the smoke in his face, I scoffed. “You’re a shitty fucking knight, you know that?” I bared my teeth at him in a vicious snarl. “I thought you people were suppos

But he didn't let them go far before shooting them all, watching with pure indifference as they fell to the ground. He glanced back at me, staring at me for a while, not saying anything. So I spoke first. “Who… Who are you? What do you want with me?” I questioned, waiting for an answer but before he said anything, my eyes strayed, observing him. And then I saw something. A red glove in one hand, a handgun that had an insignia of a Serpent coiled around a sword, and ruby eyes. This man… He was… “You're Alden Black Lombardi, the king of the Underworld. What… What do you want with me?”

I said. Goodman looked me in the eye and he opened his mouth to say something but I placed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. A few drops escaped from his open mouth and splattered against my face. I didn’t even bother wiping them away as I reached for his phone and dialed the last number he called. “I don’t see him,” Neil Black said and I could hear leaves crunching beneath his feet as he moved. “Neither does Roger,” I said. Neil turned abruptly to where Roger had been standing and I leaned against the tree and raised my hand in greeting. He threw his binoculars down and started running toward the trees to his right.

But the air changes when a new presence slides through the hall — silent, massive, impossible to ignore. A hush spreads behind my eyelids. I open them just in time to see him step out of the shadows. Tall. Broad shoulders draped in black. Eyes like forged silver — not warm, not cold. Just sharp enough to cut through bone. Damian Blackthorn. I’ve heard his name in whispers since I was a pup. Stories of a wolf who razed a whole border clan to the ground for daring to betray him. A king without mercy. But kings don’t come to filthy auctions for leftover daughters.

One of the elders groaned as he defended against Caleb's assault, shouting, "Friend, we understand that you have beef against Tarkin, but you don't have to kill us too!" However, Caleb completely ignored that, his greatsword erupting with black flames! "Apocalyptic Dragonflame, First Style—Dragonbreath!" Boom! The projection of a violent black dragon appeared behind him, its very presence terrifying! "What even is that technique?!" the elder before him cried out in shock. "That spirit beast… Is that a warrior's spirit or a combat totem?!" "World Burial Sword, Second Style—Throttle!" Shunk! At the very next second, one of the flying swords pierced the elder's throat, and he died in pain and h

A few villagers had farming tools in their hands, but everyone knew it wasn’t enough and the Knights of Dourado were too far away. The enemy ranks parted allowing a man to ride forward alone on a black horse. The rider had long, straight ash coloured hair that fell past his shoulders. His skin was pale– ashen, almost lifeless– which contrasted sharply with his crimson eyes. Those eyes were so unnatural, radiating a faint, eerie light which suggested there was something cursed about him. Dark, vein-like markings crept up from beneath his armour onto the right side of his neck and jaw, resembling the spreading of a type of corruption. He wore heavy, blackened armour that looked both ancient an