Gambar Pisau Ada Darahnya の小説・ストーリー

Rome screeches, looking around. Laney's blood turns black, all of it slowly lifting from the cool marble before Laney’s body floats up. Her head dropped back, her red hair flowing behind her. Her blood floats in front of her, then with a sick hissing sound, it shoots into where the hilt of the knife is embedded in her and a black web explodes out.

As we faced each other, he reached into my holster, drawing my blade—the one adorned with the Capone emblem. The blade's polished steel catching the ambient light in the room. The Capone emblem gleamed, a symbol of our family's legacy etched onto the hilt. Dad extended the knife toward me, handle-first, a silent invitation to partake in the blood pact. Our eyes locked, understanding passing between us. Without uttering a word, I took the blade from his hand. I pressed its sharp edge against the palm of my hand. The small bead of blood welled up on my palm from the shallow cut. My gaze remained fixed on the droplet, symbolizing the gravity of our commitment. Dad mirrored my actions, slicing h

There were trophies and certificates that were put inside a picture frame that occupied the spaces of each wooden platform. I thought he was going to get something from it, and likewise I did also thought that it was where he were going to go, but I was wrong. He did not head there for the cupboard, but for the mini library that stood just beside it. Upon arriving after a few slides of his feet, he picked a specific thick book and got something from it. It was the butcher knife. The bloody sanguine and old-looking butcher knife. It was exactly the same from all the other butcher knife we had found as clues from the past murder cases. There was a red ribbon tied tightly across the wooden hand

P E R S E U S My grip on the sword tightened until my knuckles ached under the pressure. I didn’t blink, didn’t breathe—just glared at Thomas as his cold eyes finally locked onto mine. Fresh blood splattered his face and dripped from his blade, dark and still wet. He looked like he’d just carved his way through the outskirts of the battle, eager and unhinged.

“What exactly are you truly talking about now, Stan?” He absolutely didn’t answer right away. His hand shook violently as he pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb anxiously fumbling with the screen. Then he suddenly shoved it toward me quickly. I took it from him, and my breath instantly hitched. The awful photo intensely staring back at me absolutely wasn’t just a simple knife—it was something much worse and darker. The blade was jagged, pitch black, and it gave off a faint, eerie glow even in the picture, like it absolutely wasn’t just metal but something alive somehow.

I looked around but could see a man in black and black somewhere and it made me a little scared but I gathered my courage and looked down at my basket to check if anything was missing from the products I picked out. I saw a letter covered in red colour, it wasn't just any kind of red, it was the blood kind of red; it looked like they had dipped it under red paint and raised it after it had absorbed the colour. This made me scared so I dropped all the baskets immediately in fear. I knelt on the floor and picked up the letter while my hands and my body shook. I opened it up slowly until it was fully opened, all it contained was a blood stain and a picture of a knife piercing through the chest

Surrounding him were tools of pain, blades, hammers, pliers, some discarded carelessly, others still glinting with fresh blood. A young man stood by the table, his hoodie saturated with deep crimson. His face, deceptively youthful and handsome, lit up like a child’s at the sight of Damien.

She came back with a knife and a glass like container. "Please fill your blood in here, my King." She requested as she gave the things to him. Ares took the knife from her hand and in one slash, he cut his palm open making the deep red blood which was almost black in colour flow down into the container. He didn't let out a single hiss nor his eyes reflected any sign of pain. It was not even a pain for him in the first place. For him, it was nothing but a child play. He has been through worse, messy and bloodied war and it was nothing in front of what he went through.

Belial's body shudders around the blade's edge, the point of it skewering him through his sternum in a sickening way. More blood drips down onto the ground, coating the front of his plate armor with thin rivets. I stare in horror as blood bubbles out of his mouth, his teeth clenching together in anger.

Finn dips the dagger in the blood and goes back to the drinking vessel. He puts the blood-smeared knife down in the tub and stirred so that the blood is mixed with the herbs. I have, with great shame, to admit that the smell which rises from the mixture tempts my appetite. Whatever those plants are , they make the metallic scent even more inviting to the wolf in me. It almost crawls up and down my spine to get the claws in the drink.