Isaac Castlevania Knife Novels & Stories

She feels like the thing he inserted inside her pussy is keep on moving. "Mnnnghh..!" Ava groans. "I told you that it's going to feel wonderful!" Isaac said, as he slaps her ass while clicking the remote into its highest speed. Ava cried, she can't take that too much pleasure, her body's convulsing until she reached her climax. "Satisfied now, bitch?" Isaac finally stood up and stared at her. He can still clearly how her body's shaking. He then use the knife to finally set her free.

- Isaak removed the dagger from the man’s throat and then took the letter. The knight sighed, visibly relaxing. His eyes dropped down to something on Isaak’s leg, but he said nothing. “What?” Isaak followed his gaze. Michale, the knight, stood stealthily and then cleared his throat. -Holy shit! Was he a teenager??- “Alright, you can leave!” Isaak said abruptly, but he did not bother hiding his erection. “I mean, is my new hair cut that good?” the knight teased Isaak with a smile, as he began running away, but he had barely reached the shallow cave’s entrance when Isaak threw his mini-pickaxe after him.

I murmur. I raise my hand, and a silver dagger appears. Enchanted. Pure. A blade for severing ties. “This is for Simone,” I whisper—and stab it into his hand. He lets out a gurgled breath as the magic within him fractures like shattered glass. The cabin trembles, lights flicker, and then… silence. I pull the blade free, wipe it clean. Isabella doesn’t cry. She just walks out into the rain.

They were walking back to the castle when a shiny blade caught Kate’s eye. “Susanna, look at those,” Kate whispered, gesturing toward the blades. The proprietor stood to the side of the table. Hearing the girls talking, he stepped forward and held a blade out for them to inspect. “This one is pure silver, the handle made out of oak wood, solid and firm,” he said, holding the knife out toward Kate to inspect. Kate took the blade and looked it over. “Do you have any holsters? Something to hide under our clothing so we can carry the blade with us?” Susanna asked, gesturing toward his table.

"Rhaedon, wake up!" The decision crystallized in that moment, amid the chaos. I grabbed the ritual knife from the altar, slicing deep into my palm without hesitation. Blood welled, hot and vital, and I pressed it to Rhaedon's wound, then offered the blade to Isaak. "Do it. For us. Or watch him die and take us with him anyway." Isaak's hand trembled as he took the knife, his eyes searching mine. The bond pulsed with his turmoil: love, fear, possession. "If we do this... no regrets. You're mine. Both of you."

Standing up from his seat, he walked toward Jane who was clicking his tongue as he tried to heal his wound, “That woman! She had used magic on that blade! My wounds aren’t healing at all.” “Hey,” Isaac called for Jane to turn his head. Much to his shock, he felt a dull pain on his chest. Isaac stood before him while still holding to the sword that had pierced his chest. “If the Master have found out about everything already, then I have no choice but to use you as my scapegoat.” Jane parted his lips, wanting to voice out his anger of being fooled and betrayed by Isaac but he couldn’t as blood bubbled from his throat. Isaac pulled the sword away, kicking the body of the man across the ground.

“C’mon. Still too stared to kill me?... I thought you could do better than this? Isabel’s voice was faintly mocking. She could barely stand on her feet because her vision was distort, but she doesn’t intend to give up. She would rather die with her head up high than beg this pig for her life. The lycan grabbed her by the head, its claws dug into her scalp and it lifted her until her feet was dangling above the ground. When she thought he was going to throw her across the room like he had done several times, he stabbed her instead with a knife made out of silver, surprising her. The creature was about pulling the knife out of her stomach when a cracking sound was suddenly heard from behind it

"You're injured. You're not thinking clearly. Let me help you heal properly." But Isabella is no longer listening to empty platitudes. Her fingers find the knife's familiar hilt with practiced precision. The carved obsidian handle hums to life the moment she touches it, vibrating with recognition. It knows her essence. It binds to her will. It thirsts for what she thirsts for. Time slows to an excruciating crawl. Isabella strikes with viper-like speed. A blur of practiced motion. A whisper of displaced air. A blinding flash of silver cutting through shadow.

Then in his other hand, he took the knife and held it up in the light. Free from its sheath, the blade reflected brilliantly like a mirror. The silver of the blade was perfectly polished and beautifully made, much like everything else in the castle. Now was the moment that she was dreading the most, the cut. Charlotte held her breath as the blade was pressed to her open palm and quickly slid across her skin, the tip biting across her hand. Then with a gentle tug, Lord Hunt urged her forward so he could hold her bleeding hand over the chalice.

He fell to the ground and winced. “Jace!” Cassandra screamed and rushed up to his side. Radomir ordered his men to stand down. He looked at Cassandra. “Come with us, and he lives”. Cassandra looked up angrily at him and pointed the knife she'd taken from the kitchen at him. “I don't think so”. The vampire laughed. “You want me to believe you know how to use that?”. He stepped closer. “Don't come any closer or you'll be sorry”. Radomir scoffed.