Iron Hands Chapter Novels & Stories

Source : Born By Power Book Number : Book 4 Book Name : Greek Wars Chapter : Chapter Unknown John, who had his left arm over his eyes to prevent the littlest fraction of light from blinding him, dropped his hand as he walked closer towards the gate. Behind him was a staircase where individuals had died before him was unexplained. He slowly moved his fingers towards the gate. His fingers got swallowed into the light, he kept on moving. Just as the light got to his wrist area, he instantly got swallowed into it, leaving behind an instant black screen which occurred to entomb the rest of the scene.

Bold. Now his hands are itching to kill this Persia. END OF CHAPTER 13

Cold bit into my skin. Stone pressed against my cheek. Every breath felt like glass in my lungs. I tried to move. Couldn't. Arms wouldn't respond. Legs felt distant. Wrong. My eyes cracked open. Darkness. Not complete. Faint orange glow from somewhere. Torchlight maybe. The world tilted when I tried to sit up. Stomach lurched. Bile burned my throat. Iron. I smelled iron. Blood. Old and new. My hands found cold metal. Chains. Heavy ones looped around my wrists. Connecting to a ring bolted into stone.

Kiran inquired as he grabbed hold of Ironwood, the last one not yet sent flying. Ironwood, looking at his fist captured in Kiran's hand, felt like a child fighting an adult, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "How is this possible?" he thought. Ironwood’s punch was powerful enough to deform steel and yet, Kiran was unscathed. "Is this your idea of not showing mercy?" Kiran's words were followed by the sound of cracking bones from his palm. Ironwood screamed in agony as he watched his fist deform and blood seep through Kiran's fingers. His fist was crushed, and his right hand was rendered useless.

Chapter 35 Formidable *** Content Warning: This chapter might contain violence, abuse, crime, or triggering factors that may be harmful, disturbing, or traumatizing to some. Reader discretion is advised. Thank you. *** POV: Someone There were no sounds created as they slowly walked towards their prey. Only the hooting of the owl under that almost full moon. And when the man with a huge scar on his chin down to his neck, raised his left hand – the signal of an attack to begin.

His fists were clenched by his sides. Oh, shit. T and Atlas still needed to shift. I tried to gauge the time in my head. They were running up pretty close to the forty-eight hours. I'd fucking shift, no matter what Ten said. "I've not yet had a moment to read this ancient manuscript - " Taryk shifted before Ten/Saint could finish his sentence. "At least this time you didn't land sprawled out on your ass," I said to Panther Man over the implant. He gave me a soft snarl, snapped his jaws at me.

Danial put his thoughts aside and went deeper in the Library and found the book which reocrded the Iron Fist Technique. Retrieving the ancient tome, he settled into a secluded corner, eager to uncover the mysteries of this new skill. As he delved into the book's pages, Danial was pleasantly surprised to find that the Iron Fists technique was not as obscure as he initially thought. It was a martial art that emphasized raw power, endurance, and striking precision. The book detailed its history, the philosophy behind it, and the foundational movements that formed its core.

⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ Next Chapter Unlocks: 8 — Várgr Enemies breach the vault. Blood answers silence.

Chapter 54: Sanaya’s P.O.V: Just when the red orbs had moved dangerously close to me, blocking my exit from all directions, something fell in front of me that had the ground rumble so hard that it knocked me off my feet. I fell to the ground, thankful for the material of the gown that took most of the hit, but my hands came in contact with the rocks and they instantly sliced through my skin, drawing blood. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out loud. It didn’t matter how much pain I was in, I couldn’t give away my location to the newest member who was far too close for comfort. But before I could back away from my attacker, something grabbed a hold of my hand and hauled me to my feet. Stran

Dead center sat the target: Tobias Irons. He was perched in between a bunch of girls and guys, all enraptured by his brunette, tall, and muscled presence as he loudly weaved a tale of his adventures in the bedroom. Hoots and hollers rang out as he made crude gestures with his hands, gaining even more attention from the surrounding partygoers. The boy tucked his hands inside the pockets of his jeans to hide the blood that seeped down his knuckles because of his tightly clenched fists.