Hollow Knight Oc Maker の小説・ストーリー

he growled. The rouge in the black cloak laughs sardonically. “Oh, you can’t kill me, alpha. I’m the key to your heir’s life…” the rouge smiled wickedly, and a small bottle appeared in front of him at some point. “Does it ring a bell, alpha?” Drake and Beta Dillon look disappointed. “How dare you!” Drake growled.

"Thank you, Aunt Cleo. This means a lot to me." The pendant Aunt Cleo gave Aqua was nothing short of mesmerizing. Crafted from sterling silver, the pendant was shaped like a delicate crescent moon, symbolizing the mysterious and potent nature of Aqua's powers. At the center of the crescent nestled a large, oval-cut gemstone that was uniquely clear, like a drop of captured morning dew. The clarity of the stone made it particularly special, as it reflected Aqua's emotional state, changing color with her mood. Intricate filigree work adorned the crescent moon, with tiny symbols and runes etched into the silver, each representing protection and strength. The craftsmanship was exquisite, making i

The basin still held a black residue like old blood. Aya crouched at the edge and dipped a finger into it. The residue hissed against her skin and she pulled back with a soft curse. “This is old work,” she said. “Older than Kaden. Older than the war. If Gavin’s name is here, he learned what the old makers once did. He may not have crafted it, but he’s found a way to wake it.” “Hollow Oak is the forge,” I said. The words felt blunt and huge at once. “The metal is more than metal. It’s a tool and a chain.”

It was just simply unimaginable for him. “Affirmative, Maru.” Madame Ais replied. The eloquence earlier was no more and her words reverted once more to its mechanical answers. “Is there someone stronger than a level 10 cultivator, Madame Ais?” Maru continued to ask. His thirst for knowledge was awakened with the uncertainty he felt during their discussion. “Affirmative, Maru. Above level 10 cultivators are the Makers. They can create realms and design it at will.” Madame Ais responded.

"After that its the 'Annihilation Maker' or 'Creator of the Demonic Beast', a Sacred Gear that's capable of creating any creature that the possessor can imagine. It's wielded by a boy named Leonardo." Kiba was starting to laugh at them, that due to seeing the faces of the men before him. They never thought a Longinus would be that broken. "With that, we get to the 'Mid-Tier Longinus'." - Kiba forcefully stopped his laugh and looked at them to see if they were paying attention. "Good." - He noticed that they were really paying attention.

He flicked his fingers. My gathered energy didn’t just dissipate; it un-happened. One moment I was charged, ready, the next I was just… empty. A dud. It felt like being instantly drained of blood. “Hey!” I protested, more offended than terrified. “That was rude!” “Sze, quiet,” Kairi hissed, his focus entirely on the Maker. “He’s not just a creator. He’s the localized architect of this pocket reality. His word here is law.”

I watched Rhyker standing behind the counter and flipped the scrambled eggs with his pan, he was shirtless and wore a white apron with black joggers. He had one particular tattoo on the back of his neck, it's a drawing of a crown, the crown of Rosla. He whistled while making scrambled eggs. "Are you awake Hemilia? I'm sorry I wasn't in our bed, I wanted to make breakfast for you." He said not looking at me, I gawked at his strong and broad back that is able to give comforting hugs from him. "What's the special occasion?" I chuckled and walked toward him, he turned around and smiled.

He heard they were very painful and uncomfortable, so he happily took them every month. The scent neutralizers he took were also expensive because he put them on every day. He knew only Alphas could smell Omega scents, but he didn't want to risk people finding out he was an Omega, so he also needed money for that. It wasn't like he was poor; he just had enough to come by. He didn't complain about his life, and he was happy with the way he lived right now. Those few side effects couldn't keep him down.

Made. He names them Hollow. After his company, Hollow Biotech. After himself. He needed a war, so he built an army. He needed a scapegoat, so he had a daughter. He needed a martyr, so he faked his death. And he needed an heir. Me. The vision snaps. Time resumes. Bullets hit trees, soldiers scream, Draven gasps, alive again, his eyes his own. “What,” he says, “what did you do.” “I saw,” I say. “All of it, he made them, he made me.”

It was forged from something that should not exist—crystallized grief given physical form, quenched in the blood of murdered children, inscribed with names of pack members who died screaming. "This is the Orphanmaker," he said. "Crafted specifically to end bloodlines. One cut, and everyone carrying Richard Silvermoon's blood dies. Not just physically. Retroactively. Erased from every timeline, every reality, every possible existence. I have spent twenty-three years forging this weapon. Learning forbidden magic. Sacrificing my humanity piece by piece. All for this moment." He lunged, not at all three of us, but specifically at Zack's origin point within our unified consciousness.