Gambar Pisau Ada Darahnya นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The metallic clang of our blades echoed through the training ground as my sword connected with her arm, leaving a deep gash that oozed with dark, viscous blood. My face taunted Herris as she stumbled back, clutching her injured arm. A chill ran down my spine as I saw her black blood pooling on the ground, a stark reminder of the otherworldly creatures we faced in combat. A sly smile tugged at the corners of my lips as Herris stumbled back, her face expressing shock as well as pain. Despite the seriousness of the situation, a sense of satisfaction washed over me, a reminder of the strength and skill that lay within me.

I told them about the incident with the blade. As I pulled the blade to show them, my breath hitched. A sickening realization settled over me—the blade had begun to decay, its once-impenetrable metal now chipped where our blood had mingled. The sharp edge had dulled, the intricate engravings that once pulsed with power were now barely visible beneath the damaged metal. It was as if the weapon itself had been tainted, consumed by the impossibility of what had touched it.

With a sadistic glee, Noah took the dagger from him and walked toward me, his steps deliberate and heavy with intent. I felt the cold steel against my arm, and then the searing pain as he sliced into my flesh. I couldn't stifle the scream that tore through my lips, reverberating hauntingly across the secluded clearing. My blood began to flow, bright red against the eerie, glowing symbols on the ground. As my essence mingled with the concoction of otherworldly elements, the light emitted by the symbol flared even brighter, illuminating Noah's face in a ghastly light.

It hung dangerously over the edge, perfectly within Lila's sister's reach and seemed to almost begging to be grabbed by the blade, judging from the light that glinted off of it, adding some sort of mystical quality of charm and allure to the thing that could end lives without nary a care. There was a deep scratch mark, gouging out the tables edge on the path towards the knife, with the beginning point of the indent looking the deepest of it all, the line gradually becoming shallower and shallower until it was invisible, and leading to where the knife had dropped. A few drops of dark red blood sat at the side, and looking even closer, Lila could see a thin coating of crimson liquid that lined

I yanked out the blade and thick, black blood spurted out like a fountain of death. Silver. Poetic justice, huh, Andy?

But the image of Astrid’s tear-stained face flashes in my mind and suddenly, all I feel is a dark sense of evil satisfaction. “Finally, he decides to show up.” A familiar voice thunders behind me. I take my precious time turning on my heel to meet Bianchi’s evil grin. His shirt is spotless, which is rather surprising. What I do not find surprising, however, is the dagger dripping with blood that dangles from his fingers. “Bianchi.” I wave a hand over the chaos of crying, bleeding men. “Nice work you’ve got going on here.” He shrugs. “I try.”

Cain stood in the doorway. His black combat uniform was drenched in blood. The chest area was half-dried, but the sleeves were still dripping, rivulets running down the seams of his tactical gloves and dripping onto the floor. His collar was ripped open to the sternum, exposing a blade wound that slashed diagonally from his left shoulder to his right ribs. Flesh peeled back, the edges a vivid, glistening red like a freshly cracked pomegranate. In the deepest section, you could see the muscle fascia underneath. His face was also covered in blood, unwashed, sprayed from his left cheekbone all the way down to his jaw. The blood had dried into a dark crimson crust, making his ice-blue eyes look

A trail of blood and glass shards confirmed her perceptions. She walked slowly towards the bookshelf, mentally preparing herself for the task coming her way. A man who looked to be in his mid-twenties lay on the ground, his head propped against the bookshelf. He was shirtless so Lisa could clearly see the deep vertical slashes that ran from his throat to his abdomen. An ornate hilted dagger protruded from his chest, the blade sunk so deep that it had to be piercing his heart. Blood flowed freely from his wounds and welled up into a pool around him around, some of it soaking into the grey sweatpants he wore.

"He can't hear you over the sound of your own death." He started the downward swing. I didn't have a sword. I didn't have a shield. I had the wolf-blood. I reached out and grabbed the blade. The poisoned steel sliced deep into my palms. I felt the acid eating into my flesh. I felt the paralysis creeping up my wrists. But I didn't let go. I squeezed. "What—what are you doing?" Lucas’s eyes went wide. He tried to pull the sword back, but I held on. My blood hit the floor. It wasn't red anymore. It was a dark, pulsing silver.

Harris spit his tooth and blood dripped on his lips. “Harris!! No...” Naiiyak na tawag sa kanya ni Psyche. Umiling-iling si Harris, sinusubukan labanan ang kaniyang pagkakahilo dulot ng malakas na pagkakahampas sa kaniya. “Anong problema? You want Harris? You want him? Hmm?” Nag-aalalang tanong ni Crimson sa dalaga.