Gunmetal Gods Novels & Stories

The feeling new and tender, it was still overwhelmed by Chiri’s fear that it could break in an instant. Called to the platform, Chiri and Allen finally took their place in front of the Elders. Just as all of the other Hunters had done before him, Allen knelt facing her. Presenting his weapon for her to bless, the polished metal pistol sat unassumingly in his open palms. The gun still bearing the scars of its previous owner’s service to the Alliance. Barely able to make out the faint mark where Xavier Crouse’s blessing had been smudged out, Chiri looked upon it solemnly as she brushed its surface with her hand.

Her lungs burned with the thick, black sulfur-steam of the chasm, her long hair, now heavily streaked with sovereign silver, whipping violently across her face as she surveyed the absolute carnage of the layout. ​The three distinct front lines of her life had collided in a single, subterranean slaughterhouse. ​To her left, the giant, silver-furred form of Gideon, the ghost who had financed Damon’s empire with his own archived flesh, was a vortex of frantic, silver-and-steel violence. He was tearing through the zinc-plated armor of the First Register's iron automatons, his jaws dripping with black machine grease as he fought to clear a path toward his younger brother. But the automated legion

everyone echoed, their voices creating a thunder of their own. The armory was controlled chaos. Marcus oversaw the distribution of Moonbane weapons—daggers that could disrupt dark magic, arrows tipped with purification runes, even a few experimental bombs that I swore would work. "You swear, or you hope?" one warrior asked nervously, eyeing the glowing devices. "Bit of both," I admitted with a tired smile. "But hey, worst case scenario, we all die together. That's kind of beautiful if you think about it." The warrior stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

Gwyneth I sat on the bench outside the warehouse with Marcus and Mason, watching them offload the goods. It was pure silver because the pack members had to cover their hands with gloves to load the bullets into the cartridges. It was plenty enough to wipe out an army of ten thousand wolves, and Simone did not have that number. So we were good. The edible silver came in dust form, and I intended to use it to reduce the population of the Fire, Wind and Gray Pack. My plan was wicked and would cause a blanket killing, but anyone in those packs was considered enemy already and would work against us if they had to.

The shop assistant said with a smile. “I don't mind the money, I just want quality goods. Thank you in advance.” Xiao Long left the shop under the shop assistant’s annoyed gaze. Xiao Long went back around Golden Flame City to look for Blacksmith shops or other weapon shops. He found a few other weapon shops as well as Blacksmith shops, but the weapon shops did not have high-quality and Blacksmiths took a long time to make something as small as a needle because they had to be detailed in forging it.

The moment he finished his speech, the men cheered and rose to their feet, all seventeen of them, including the High Commander, their voices booming as they chanted, WE ARE THE HUNTERS, WE ARE THE GUILD. WE ARE GOD'S JUDGEMENT, WE ARE THE GUILD. WE DON'T GIVE IN OR FAINT, WE ARE THE GUILD. WE STRIKE WITH IRON, HOT AND FIERCE, FIRE AND VENGEANCE ON ALL CREATURES OF THE NIGHT. WE STRIKE WITH SILVER, COLD AND FROST, FIRE AND DEATH ON ALL CREATURES BREATHING FRIGHT.

They didn't carry traditional broadswords; they carried high-frequency tactical submachine guns that fired a continuous, lethal volley of silver-tipped rounds directly into the vault center. The four traditionalist elders didn't even get to swing their blades. Within three seconds, the silver-tipped ammunition shredded through their cloaks, sending their massive Lycan frames crashing onto the cold stone floorboards in a pool of dark, smoking blood. The raw, heavy scent of rain, cedar wood, and Northern military conquest instantly crashed through the vault's damp atmosphere, completely obliterating Genevieve's lavender perfume. "Luna!" the lead Northern stealth operator roared over the gunfir

"You think brute force can override the central bank of the universe? I am the Manager of the Mint! My capital is infinite!" Arthur clapped his hands together. The sound echoed like a gavel striking a block of solid platinum. From the depths of the shimmering vault, the Mint's internal security protocols engaged. Four towering figures marched out of the blinding light. They were "Gilded Arbiters"—twenty-foot-tall golems forged entirely from compressed, solid bullion and animated by the souls of bankrupt cosmic warlords. They wielded massive hammers shaped like balancing scales, each swing capable of adjusting localized physics.

He released my shoulders, reassembled himself into Council Elder and Divine Warrior and ancient tactician, and followed Greg and Andrews out of the room. The door closed. Four of us left. The seal glowing beneath our feet. Brianna already moving back to her anchor position with the focused calm of someone who had died once and decided that death was not, in fact, the worst thing that could happen to a person. Elias at my shoulder, warm and solid and radiating the particular tension of someone who had made peace with something they hated. Marcus in his circle, silver-cuffed, wearing his own face like a mask that didn't quite fit anymore. I looked at the angel blade in my hand. "Right," I said

I re-adjusted my posture and went on my trip to find myself a way to the masquerade ball. I came upon a route where there were two guards stationed at the entrance of a massive gate. They were clad in royal platinum armor and armed with long firearms. Aside from that, Darkmoon was exceptional in that they could wield a silver bullet rifle without even a shudder. When it came to the Shadow pack, I was the only one with a gun that had a silver bullet in it.