Knives X Vash Novels & Stories

N Y X A R A I wake before the bell. The room is dark and narrow, clean in the way places are when no one plans to stay. I fold the cot into the wall before rinsing my face in cold water, drying it with the issued cloth, and hanging it back on the hook where it belongs. My gear waits on the steel table—blade, wire, and three vials sealed in dull glass. One blade for the mission. One Alpha who wasn’t supposed to exist.

In her right hand, she held a long, curved steel cleaver that was already painted in Nullifier blood. "You look rough, Rylan," Vex mocked, circling me slow, her boots making zero sound on the ice. "Did the little girl reject your baseline? You smell sour. You smell like a dog that’s ready for the pit." "Shut your mouth," I rasped, my fingers tightening around the grips of my combat knives. "Make me," she hissed. She moved. God, she was too fast. The hybrid tissue in her legs propelled her forward like a bullet.

Vane leads me to a small chest in the back. He opens it. Inside is a pair of twin daggers. The handles are carved from white bone. The blades are thin. slightly curved. "These belonged to an assassin from the southern wastes." Vane says. "They are balanced for a smaller hand. Try them." I pick them up. They feel like an extension of my arms. I give them a quick spin. They cut the air with a hiss. "I like them." I say. "Good." Vane says. "Because the scouts just returned. The Shadow Claw aren't at the river anymore."

He stepped inside the demon’s swing, pivoted sharply— And drove his blade upward beneath the general’s armor. The steel stopped just short of Kharvek’s throat. Silence fell instantly. The duel was over. Kharvek froze. Adrian held the blade steady. “Yield,” Adrian said quietly. The demon’s jaw tightened. But he finally lowered his weapon. “I yield.” Adrian stepped back. The court erupted again—some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. High above them, Vaelreth stood slowly from his throne.

Toward. Toward Ash. Toward Cove. Toward the kid about to explode. “Mother!” Wrath shouts. “Don’t!” I hit the vines. They don’t grab me. They part. First Blood knows First Blood. Ash is on her knees. Burning. Cove is on his. Smoking. Vines connecting them. Feeding. Killing both. I drop between them. Bone knife’s in my hand. Again. Always. “Stop,” I tell them. To Cove. To Ash. To the Tree. “Both of you. Stop.”

I wish I could dissolve into the wall I leaned on. Their fight leads to Violet shoving the tray of nail paints, my mom bought. Among the shreds of glasses, I saw the pocket knife I bought out of a sense of security. A pocket knife with a wooden handler and purple colour nail paint smeared on it, just like the one sitting in one of the drawers of Bash's bedside table. *

“Welcome home, Miss Vance. The primary office is open. The author is waiting.” Viktor’s face went completely white in the glare of the lantern. "No... No, the loop was supposed to close! The assets are mine!" He reached into his coat, his hand coming out with a heavy silver revolver, but before he could raise the barrel toward the dais, Aisha materialized from the smoke behind him, her combat knife catching the red security light as she drove it straight into his shoulder, sending him crashing into the stone steps.

Weapons racks line the concrete walls, heavy with custom silver daggers, war-axes, and military-grade assault rifles. A tall, broad-shouldered wolf with scarred skin and grey-streaked fur descends the iron catwalk above us. Maestro Vance holds a heavy silver broadsword in his right hand, his scent smelling heavily of gunpowder, blood, and burnt cedar. “I saw your transport pull up from the security feeds,” Vance grunts, his piercing grey eyes locking onto me as he steps onto the concrete floor. “You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.”

I leaned my full body weight down on the pillow, crushing his face into the mattress. He made a wet, muffled screaming sound under the heavy leather. His legs kicked violently under the blankets. I lifted my right hand with the knife. I brought the blade down hard into his chest. The sharp iron sliced straight through his thin nightshirt. It cut through his skin and cracked through his ribs. The knife sank deep into his heart. Vane let out a horrible, wet gasp under the pillow. Warm red blood spurted out from his chest, soaking through my sleeves and splashing across my face.

, his leg slamming onto my arm with force. “You can’t win this alone,” Raider declared. His claws burrow into Vash’s skin. “It seems I’ll have more than enough fun for today.” Vash’s arm found its way to Raider, throwing him off balance and slamming him into the ground in one hit. Acknowledging Vash’s concentration on Raider, I drew my sword, finding my way to Vash’s back without him feeling my presence. DIE! “No,” I coughed up. “Did you think you would be able to stab me from behind?” That’s a bad choice if you ask me, Vash stated. His hand crushed my neck as he held me up.