Knife Blank Hidden Tang Novels & Stories

They felt like their bodies refused to comply with their brains. “Are you sure about that?” Shadow’s right hand sneakily delved inside her back pocket. Hermes and Hercules stayed silent, and couldn't say anything. Their minds were mostly blank. Pitch black. Literally nothing. They had no thoughts which were weird. Gradually, Shadow revealed what she was hiding behind her. It was a SURVIVOR HK-786BK Black Survival Knife. Hermes and Hercules’s eyes bulged and their mouths were literally foaming. They were also unsurprisingly peed inside their pants due to the fear.

So I'm guessing this will be something I will be good at. "Choose your knife Lorraine." She said, gesturing to the table. I took small steps towards the table, tracing my fingertips along the blades. "Remember there are three different kinds of knives that are good for throwing: blade-heavy, handle-heavy, and balanced knives." I picked the knives individually and studied them, some light, some heavy, some long and some short. I had so many options. My eyes scanned the table and stopped when I saw a 12 inch long and anodized double-edged, stainless steel blade with a black cord-wrapped handle with a finger hole. I picked it up and studied it.

Then he walked to a cabinet in the corner of the living room and opened it. When he turned around, there was a delicate and beautiful knife in his hand. The knife was of national style. It was neither too big nor small, and it was bigger than an ordinary dagger. The scabbard was decorated with colorful diamonds and engraved with patterns, which made the knife look less frightening. But no matter how good-looking it was, it was just a knife. Xavier came back in a few steps and stood two steps away from Zena. "I can let her go."

My manhood throbbed inside my pants at the sight of her spotless skin. She looked scared and nervous. "What is it?" She asked, trying to use her hands to cover her exposed body. But that was useless. I tried very hard to concentrate on her face but my eyes kept moving to her bare skin. Karl growled hungrily, I tried to keep him under control. Before I could answer her question, she tried turning around to grab a blanket when the towel slipped and fell to the ground, leaving her totally nude. My eyes widened at the magnificent sight. I quickly turned around when I saw how embarrassed she was.

After the plates were cleared—Anatoly washed, I dried—he disappeared into the back room and returned with a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth. He laid it on the table and unfolded it. A Glock 19, matte black, already loaded, two spare magazines. A thigh rig—black leather, worn soft from use. And a fixed-blade knife in a fancy sheath, the handle wrapped in leather. He pushed them toward me. “Your size,” he said simply. I picked up the pistol, checked the chamber out of habit, racked the slide once. The weight felt right. Familiar. Like an old friend who had never let me down.

she sits up and stretches like she’s been asleep all the while, “Ready?” “Yep,” I say, popping the p, looking around for my sword and removing the big black jacket I wore over a small tight green top and shorts. Finally finding my sword leaning gracefully against the bark of a tree, I pick it up, admiring its uniqueness. An ice sword befitting an ice queen, with a handle carved so perfectly for my slender fingers to get a good grip, it has a perfect weight with a blade so sharp and shiny. Although she looks fragile, she’s a lot tougher and can withstand any amount of pressure or force, just like her owner. Smirking at the comparison, I swirl the sword around and point at Anora, who’s now sta

Recently dropped. The blade itself bore a small, familiar sigil near the base, etched, so finely you could have missed it if you didn’t know where to look. A stylized fang. Nightfang’s mark. Rin’s hand went cold around the hilt. “Kael,” she said quietly. He turned. His gaze dropped to the knife, then snapped back up to hers. The line of his shoulders went rigid. “Is that—” Talia began, peering over Rin’s other shoulder. “Ah. Shit.”

And I disliked unknown variables more than enemies. Across from me sat Adrian. Or what remained of his composure. Viktor stood beside him, gun raised casually, the barrel resting against Adrian’s temple with unsettling familiarity. Viktor never wasted motion; his stillness alone was enough to suffocate weaker men. Adrian was already sweating. Good. Fear shortened conversations. I set the tablet aside and reached slowly into my coat pocket. Metal met my fingers. It was familiar, balanced, and perfect. My knife. Custom-forged Swiss steel, designed to my specifications alone. The blade unfolded with a soft, precise click, catching the cabin light. Along its spine, engraved in clean lettering, w

he asked, his voice dropping into a quiet, raspy whisper that sounded entirely hollow. "It's just a tactical blade, Thorne," I replied, my voice modulator throwing back the mechanical rasp, though my hands were secretly trembling behind my back. I quickly slid the weapon into its sheath, hiding it from his sight. "A custom piece I had commissioned through an underground contact. It’s uniquely weighted for low-light execution." Malakai stopped three feet from me. He didn't try to grab me this time. He just stared at the space where the blade had been, his chest rising and falling heavily.