Fantasy Gunslinger Novels & Stories

He urgently needed a drink to calm down. After he finished the drink, Juan smashed the glass. “Philip, as you can see, even a person with great skills can be brought down with a gun. This is a special silver gun specifically targeted at supernatural beings like you. If you don't want to die, kneel down and beg for mercy now.” Juan stared at Philip and said. “Hehe, it's just a silver gun.” Philip ignored the captain and the gun in his hand. “You’re courting death! Fire!” Juan roared.

We slipped it into the DVD player, and instantly the story unfolded on screen, dusty roads, revolvers, blood, and betrayal. I remembered how the cowboys wielded silver fangs. Once a bullet left its barrel, it didn’t just pierce skin. It shattered bones, breaking them cleanly into equal halves. That memory sat with me like prophecy. My smirk deepened as I pointed to the Silver Fang on the counter. I didn’t want some modern pistol built for show. I wanted something raw, something brutal, something that would split Eunice into two equal halves, like a carrot snapped with bare hands.

, he threatened Trevor. I was about to speak when he let go of my hands and sprinted towards the gun men with speed like a cheetah. I watched from afar as he pounced on them with his malefic Fangs and lethal claws, pawing them dreadfully as he tore and ripped them like rag dolls. The most unfortunate man amongst the gangster's had the guts to come closer to him with his FAMAS rifle, aimed him on the forehead and pulled the trigger, giving him a headshot.

The tall man gritted his teeth and lowered the gun toward Caspian's leg. The others remained still, still aiming their guns at Caspian. If he made any move, they'd pull the trigger without hesitation. However, they had yet to realize that standing in front of them was none other than the Diatoranian God of War! The moment the tall foreigner pulled the trigger, a sudden glint of cold light flashed. A whooshing could be heard! It was followed by the tall man's screams. His hands had been pricked by silver needles. His entire hand throbbed with excruciating pain, and the gun in his hand fell to the ground.

“One of my greatest rivals. He wishes to make peace. At least, he says he does.” “You don’t believe him?” Why am I even asking him about this? What do I know about the Russian mob? Gunsyn shrugs, keeping his hands on my butt. “We will see. I want you there.” “Why?” “For arm candy,” he replies as though we were discussing the weather. “Excuse me? Arm candy?” Gunsyn smirks, pulls his hands apart, and spreads me open. I close my eyes again and tell my body not to respond, but it’s hopeless. I can feel the moisture forming between my thighs as his bulge presses against me.

I shouted in triumph, and turned to show Callahan my prize. Judging by the way he reacted, one would think I was trying to give him a live snake to hold. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screamed incredulously. He even had the nerve to move back when I brought the silver bullet closer to him. “Why? Because I’m a vamp? What could be wrong with that?” I murmured innocently as I inspected my shoulder. The wound was closed now and the blood had stopped as well, but my pristine white shirt was now stained and a little torn. “You are not afraid of blood, are you?” I moved closer and Grayson raised his pretty little gun again. The kazeshini was a pretty standard weapon for hunters, but the si

However, Xander had a gun now, and it was the most advanced one. Xander said excitedly, "This is the enemy's sniper rifle. It has excellent accuracy and is said to be equipped with night-time silencing and infrared vision. Suddenly, Xander became a bit depressed. "I don't really understand the specifics, but this is the gun that injured Mr. Gagnier. Thankfully, he dodged in time. He only hurt his arm. Miss, where did you get this gun from?"

, he’s shaking as the dagger fell to the ground. “The known killer of Werewolves?” Other were-rogue asks. I devilishly smirked doing my attack towards the naked man. Throwing my dagger straight to its heart. They alerted themselves as they saw how their companion turns to ashes. “Yes. I am Death. You want to be one of my favorite collections?” I showed myself yet they can’t see my face due to the black skull mask I’m wearing. They should have attacked me but my hands are quicker than them. I pulled two of my 45 caliber guns. And shoot their foreheads and hearts making their early death. My gun has a silver bullet that contains the same mixture of venom and wolf's bane.

The night vision goggles made her eyes glow an eerie green. 2. **Marco** - Damien's lieutenant dual-wielded SIG Sauer MPXs, his movements precise as he cleared the corners. The ceramic plates in his vest were rated to stop .308 rounds at point-blank range. 3. **The Asset** - A 6'7" brute in full riot gear that made him look like a futuristic knight. The helmet came off to reveal Damien, his storm-gray eyes burning with barely contained fury. Arthur was already moving, his sedation-resistant body dragging toward the emergency exit. Blood streamed from his broken nose, painting his teeth crimson when he laughed. "You brought my granddaughter to a gunfight?" His voice was a grotesque parody of

Thorne’s wolves were feral, drunk on twisted loyalty and ancient blood rituals. Link and I stood in the courtyard, back to back, as the first wave descended. Snow kicked up in bursts of silver and crimson as we shifted mid-strike—his obsidian wolf like a god carved from shadow, mine a spectral blaze of ivory and gold. They weren’t ready for us. My fangs found flesh. His claws found bone. We moved as one—fur and fire, blood and roar. Marcy and Dax flanked from the east, flares of magic and steel slicing the fog.