Flamingo 5 Blade Razor Novels & Stories

Flamingo sighs dramatically. “We still have a lot to discuss, old friend, but unfortunately…” He lifts the sword slowly into the air. “We’ll continue this conversation in hell.” “No!” I scream instantly. “Please don’t do this! Fuck, no!” The sword swings downward and I shut my eyes, but instead of flesh tearing, I hear metal crash against the floor. My eyes snap open. Flamingo is falling. His huge body crashes forward, casting a terrifying shadow over us before slamming lifelessly to the ground.

“At the count of three, you can begin.” I stood erect and took deep breaths; calculating the exact moment when he would flip. I had to grab him and stab him with the amethyst needle within those few seconds. “One…” “Two…” “Three…” As predicted Yuri lunged at me from the front. I stepped aside and let him pass through. Then he took the much-awaited flip. I jumped into the air grabbed his arm and pierced the amethyst needle right through his upper arm. I held him in a chokehold as we landed on the ground.

“Looks like I’ll have to look for a new way to train!” Zephyr sighed. He put out his right arm, “Come!” With that, a white light flashed across the sky, then landed in Zephyr’s hand. His sword filled with Focus, and vibrated in his hand. He gripped it tightly before he sent an arcing slash towards the waterfall. “Seven Slash – Fifth Slash!”

Ding Hao swallowed hard; he moved away his eyes from the black spinels, and saw a long saber floating in the space. It was a quaint-looking long saber, a bit like the podao used by the army of the cold weapon era in his previous life. The saber had a broad spine and a long edge, molded in a soft streamline. Three blood grooves were carved along the blade, like sprawling dragons and phoenixes. The blade was slightly narrower towards the handle, and the hilt was extremely long, which was more than enough for both hands to grasp. The entire saber, with no complicated pattern or engraving, looked extremely simple.

Too small. I look at the other weapons, well, more like knives. We have kitchen knife, cleaver knife, carving knife, santoku knife, paring knife, then tomato knife, then a fork. not your normal fancy fork, No, a two way fork. Lastly, my personal favourite, chain saw machine, all coated with silver, than touched with silver sulfide.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Lord Red Cloud suddenly stopped laughing and, in an unexpected move, threw three shining blades at Kiran, which caught him by surprise. "Kiran, be careful!" shouted the people from Dragonsland instinctively. Kiran didn’t move but watched the approaching spinning blades. These blades were shaped like five-pointed stars, each tip a curved, razor-sharp edge. The three blades attacked from different angles—one directly aimed at the forehead. This way, the person who was attacked would suffer attacks from three directions. Any hit from these blades would be fatal.

I reply, "she wasn't sure until she knew it was the three of us.... There's a difference." He doesn't look convinced.... ***** I draw the blade over my chin, side-looking myself in the mirror. "Didn't you shave this morning?" asks Michael. "Yes, I did, but considering what we have in mind for later, it seemed a good idea...." "Why don't you use an electric razor? For someone like you that gets a five o'clock shadow, I'd have thought it was a lot easier." "Yes, it is, but for this, a blade gives a smoother result.... if you take my meaning...."

“You’d give up the Circle?” He looked at her. “I’d give up everything.” One of the seven stepped down from the dais. He approached Chaewon with a small silver bowl in hand. Inside: a blade. Old. Ceremonial. The handle was wrapped in red silk. The blade itself is carved from obsidian and phoenix feather. A blade made for only one purpose. ‘The Trial of Flame.’ “You may still claim the Circle,” the priest said. “But you must bleed for it. The Ritual of Truth. One cut. One question. Answer truthfully, and you rise. Lie… and you burn.”

It had been done quickly, efficiently, without hesitation. The next images are Rosa. Different setting. Different scale. Same hand. My jaw tightens slightly as I study the details more closely. “Same blade,” Enzo says, watching me. “Narrow edge. Single-sided.” I tilt the photo slightly, tracing the line of the wound with my eyes, not just the cut itself but the angle of it, the direction it travels across the skin. “No hesitation,” I say. “The cut is direct. No adjustment marks.” Enzo nods.