Flamberge Kirby Novels & Stories

"Blake Frost was fortunate to die by my spinning blades." "Why?" Kiran asked coldly. "Because he was the first person to face my spinning blades," Lord Red Cloud's eyes gleamed as he stared at Kiran. "Today, you will be the second." This statement served as a declaration to Kiran and everyone present of his formidable skills. He rarely needed to use his ultimate move, the spinning blades. Kiran’s mouth curved into a disdainful smile, "Then you'll be the last one." "What do you mean, 'the last one'?" Lord Red Cloud asked.

he demanded, slamming into her again and again, the musky scent of sex growing stronger. “I shouldn’t want it,” Elena gasped, her body jolting with every brutal thrust. “But I do. I need it so fucking bad. Harder, Marcus. Make it hurt.” He released her wrists and flipped her onto her stomach like she weighed nothing. He pulled her hips up high and took her from behind, even harder than before. His hand came down in a sharp, stinging slap on her ass, the burn spreading deliciously. Elena moaned loudly into the pillow, pushing back against him eagerly. The mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure made her head spin wildly. Fear and lust twisted together until she couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

Through the swirling mountain frost above, a shape finally detached itself from the upper dark of the staircase. It wasn't an armored titan. It was a slender, wire-muscled hunter clad in close-fitting, oil-skinned leather that didn't reflect the pale mountain starlight. His face was entirely hidden behind a dark brass breather-mask, his eyes obscured by twin lenses of smoked glass that glowed with a faint, predatory green hue. In his right hand, he carried a long, thin flamberge—a wavy-bladed sword designed to saw through flesh and silver mesh with minimal physical resistance. He didn't pause to offer words. He didn't hesitate at the sight of the Hybrid Queen or the ruined Alpha.

I stood upright despite my trembling legs, gasping for breath. The sorcerer moved closer. With a swift motion, he created a long ice blade glowing with an icy blue light in his hand. The blade shot forward and carved a deep diagonal slash across my chest. The pain was unbearable. I staggered backwards, pressing a hand against the wound. My blood poured freely, dripping onto the stone floor. But then something strange happened. The blood that touched the ice blade suddenly ignited. Not ordinary fire—this fire was black, yet hotter than any normal flame.

He smiled while they screamed and thrashed in agony, a glint in his eyes. Blake didn’t give up and continued the torture for hours while the few warriors that joined us kept running out to bring coffee and food. If torture were an art, Blake was an exceptionally creative artist. I had never even thought to imagine all the different ways a body could be disfigured. And as if he was a professor, Blake patiently lectured us on the benefits of each knife he was using. He showed off his clip point—good for quick, deep puncture and withdrawal. Then his drop point—good for skinning. Finally, his needlepoint—perfect for thrusting. All things I'd have been perfectly content never knowing.

Now, only power spoke. Gloria knelt first, laying a talon-shaped blade across her knees. Its hilt was carved from bone that pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a heartbeat echoing through the ground. The air grew colder around her, coiling like serpents, and her lips moved without sound. The frost crawling along her skin wasn’t entirely natural; it was the blade calling to her, the spirits whispering their obedience.

Fighting throngs of them in human form is Thor's specialty. Before I abandon the car, I open the glove compartment and bring out the serrated edge karambit knife I took from Uncle Knox's workshop. The karambit is a perfect knife for silent killing. It can slice deep into flesh with ease and the curved and serrated edges on the silver blade make it a deadly and dangerous weapon that can hook and snag at sensitive organs like the intestine, making the person suffer a slow and painful death.

His robe fluttered about, carrying an enormous silver divine halberd on his back. Her long hair was fluttering, and her eyes were like lightning. He had an extraordinary charm. One could tell from the blush on those pretty faces of some female disciples. Behind him, Zephyr Khan saw Vert Murray and the others. "Brother..." Amber and the others were pleasantly surprised to see their senior brother of their main peak, which made their original aggravation dissipate at once.. As for Zephyr Khan, he looked at the man with the silver halberd on his back.

Blight, Ryker’s Gamma, steps forward with a grin on his face. He’s dressed in all black like me, with blackout tattoos covering his neck and arms. Short cropped blonde hair, grey eyes, tall but muscular; I’ve heard tales about this Gamma that rival my own. He has a penchant for killing humans in the most gruesome ways, and his favorite weapon is a JagdKommando knife; the deadliest of blades as it has three edges that spiral together like a corkscrew into a sharp tip. No doctor can sew up a wound left by this knife.