Iron Man Blood Edge Armor Novels & Stories

One held up his hands summoning multiple orbs of blood floating up into the air in front of him so they were dancing above the palm of his hand, thrusting his hand forward they took off with the speed and power of a large caliber bullet, and sound of a popping noise. POP POP POP POP! The orbs slammed into the chest of a Hound in front of him. The man's body jolted from the impact, exciting the Vampire. "Haha hey ma-" He began excitedly, until he realized the orbs did hit, but not with the effects he would usually expect. The human turned back to him straightening his posture. It was no different than someone shooting body armor, sure the impact wouldn't tickle, but in the end the blood orbs

It wasn't a drone. It was a man. Dante Thorne stood at the edge of the courtyard, his "Void-Titan" armor completely gone, his body covered in the gray ash of the unmade world. He didn't have his wings, and his red eye was gone—but in his right hand, he held a massive, jagged piece of the Vane-Absolute’s steering column. A piece of rusted iron from the old world. He didn't look at my father. He didn't look at the towers. His grey eye locked onto me, and for the first time in this reset reality, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

I can be a handful, but only because I can take care of myself and don’t need babysitters. I do feel bad for them though, hence why I like to give them breaks – which they refuse to take. Not only are these two stuck standing guard in front of whatever room I’m in, but they have to do it covered head to toe in armour. Looks amazing, but I wouldn’t want to wear it. The armour is made from graphene, it’s flexible and elastic while being strong and lightweight. The beauty of this particular armour is that it’s been imbued with makkari magic. The armour is sentient, to a degree. It can sense the species of the attacking enemy and alter itself accordingly. So, if say a sirna was attacking them, t

Silent: I watch with crossed arms as the infamous Dr. Kolohe Cho uses her technological power to complete the suit of armor. “The Iron Fist armor is nearly ready,” Dr. Cho says while looking at a metal claw. Her eyes and head glowing a blueish-green color, the claw starts to turn by itself. It grabs a massive iron hand and screws it into the wrist of the armor. Dr. Cho thanks the claw machine while it spins around.

Watching his flanks collapse, his squad get picked apart, with the calm patience of a man who'd already factored in these losses. Because I was exactly where he wanted me. "There you are," he said. He was tall in person. Taller than Valtherion. Lean, angular, with the economy of movement that spoke of decades of combat. Gray at the temples. Pale eyes that reflected the moonlight like mirrors. A long silver blade in each hand, not ornamental. Working weapons. The edges hummed with something that made my shadow bloodline recoil. Anti-bloodline steel. Forged specifically to cut through ancient power.

I said, my physical voice raspy and exhausted, stripping away the terrifying, synthesized acoustic filter of the suit. A collective breath shuddered through the Vanguard. Cord let out a booming, chest-deep laugh that echoed off the high peaks of Iron Crest. The seventy-two-year-old Master Forge pushed his way past Torin, walking right up to the terrifying black armor. He slammed his massive, heavy hand against the shoulder plate. The kinetic sink instantly ate the blow, making no sound. Cord just grinned wider. "You didn't break it," Cord noted, his golden eyes shining with absolute pride.

“Did he use the gold to forge the armor? The man I saw yesterday doesn’t look like he has a golden armor hidden somewhere.” Mariah frowned and then turned to Irene. “Are you sure he was helping us fight?” Irene gave her his attention, “Why would you ask that?” “Because yesterday, he said he needed my blood to replenish and that if he wastes more time, he will find him.” “He will find him?” Edward repeated with a frown. Mariah nodded. “I don’t know what he means or who will find him. So, I don’t think he was fighting for us, I think he was fighting for himself.”

He pondered for a while and said, “There is a family that works with my clan, and they use Preitium from the deep sea to create Preitium Armor. Even at the highest temperature, this Preitium would not melt. Is it tough enough to withstand the hellish lava?” Blind Ivan nodded and said, “Maybe, but the odds should be fifty percent. If Young Master Vlad puts on the Preitium Armor and enters the Devil’s Eye, it would be great if he could block the invasion of the hellish lava. What if that armor can’t stop it? Wouldn’t it kill the young master in the Devil’s Eye?” Carwyn’s expression became more solemn. He said, “Your tone suggests that there is no other way to get around it?”

But even their hardened, battle-tested faces were pale with primitive dread. Danger. Not of this world. Danger. And then, out of the smoke and melting marble, a figure stepped into the Grand Throne Room. It was a man, tall and impossibly lean, draped in scorched, ash-gray armor that seemed to absorb the light around him. But it was his face that made my breath catch in my throat. His skin was translucent, showing glowing, magma-orange veins pulsing beneath the surface. His eyes were not the amber of a werewolf, nor the silver of a shadow warrior. They were solid, burning pits of liquid fire.

"Speak or bleed." The man’s voice was a low vibration that rattled the air in my lungs. He didn't move, but his presence expanded, filling the clearing until the fire seemed to dim in his shadow. He held the bloody Silver Ridge armor out like a trophy and a threat. I didn't flinch. I had spent nine years learning how to turn my face into a mask of perfect, unbothered silence while Alphas roared. I stood my ground, even as my bare toes sank into the freezing mud.