Metal Gear Novel Novels & Stories

They had long, curved blades that glinted like mercury in the moonlight. The "Quiet Ones." The Sokolov remnants hadn't sent soldiers. They had sent the executioners. Enzo stepped forward into the center of the room, his silhouette a jagged line against the white out. "Stay back, Jade," he said. But I didn't stay back. I opened the Red Ledger to the very last page—the blank one—and I realized that the ink was finally starting to appear. Not from a pen, but from the heat of the static discharge. The Weaver is not a man, the page read. The Weaver is a program. And the program is already running.

Therens responded as he look away outside. “Oh, I see,” General Malta said as he handed it back to him, he quickly hide it in his belt knife sheath. “Well then, let’s gather all our men, and let’s proceed,” the general said. “Yes general,” Therens replied as he bowed and went out first. General Malta saw a medium-sized old brown book on Therens’ table. The cover was made out of man-made leather. “I’ve seen that book before,” he thought but he heard the soldiers outside so he immediately went out.

"Benson has been fighting the people for three years Maya. In this part of the story he is a soldier. He is the guard of our memories.. The Firewall is a lonely place. It changes a man. He might not be the same." They flew toward a giant glowing wall of light. It went from the ground all the way up to the clouds. It looked like a waterfall made of light. Millions of names, dates and names of towns moved down the wall like a river. Julian whispered, "That is the Great Firewall. It is the thing keeping the Writer from erasing all of us who survived the first book." As they landed the car a group of men in armor ran toward them. They held weapons that looked like glass tubes filled with glowing

CHAPTER 81: I bury them Nero and Nico arrived at the location of their meeting with Viktor Sokolov, and it was another decrepit, rundown factory that had been abandoned. The air inside the derelict factory was cold and metallic, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of rust, oil, and gunpowder.

“That’s what the warriors saw?” “It is….” As the anger grew, his eyebrow raised up. “There weren’t reports of those machines.” Piercy showed me a particular one that made my skin crawl. “This is used to keep the woman open for multiple men. Tell me that didn’t happen to you?”

The sound of the footsteps wasn’t a human cadence; it was the rhythmic, heavy grind of tectonic plates sliding over bone. Ga-chi. Ga-chi. The command deck’s silver doors hissed open, and the freezing air of the North Wing flooded the bridge, carrying the scent of permafrost and the cloying, metallic rot of the Second Prime. I stood in the center of the room, my silver-alloy blade raised in my right hand. My left arm—the quartz monument etched with the crimson-black sigil—vibrated so violently I felt the bones in my shoulder start to splinter.

The rhythmic, heavy crunch of armored boots echoing from the dark northern tunnels did not carry the sloppy, frantic cadence of retreating outcasts. It was a precise, synchronized march—the chilling, mechanical stride of a highly disciplined legion. The vibration traveled up through the bronze plates of the platform, rattling my raw, blistered palms as I lay splayed across Killian’s chest. The air, which had briefly warmed with the volatile thermal backlash of the overloaded crucible, instantly turned to a dead, sulfurous ice that smelled of old graves and wet salt.

**This novella is the 10th book in the Guardian series, the 6th in the Guardian’s Next Generation series. While it can be read as a stand-alone book, references will be made to other events and people without full description of those events here. It is recommended that you read the other books in this series before this one. When our mother called Malin and I into a meeting and our brother, the current Alpha, Richard, immediately said no, I knew our time had finally come.

Gamma moved in speed of light through the dense mist of the evening with two warriors running along his sides, the note from Madeline still clenched tightly in his hand. As his mind was in, over the hell, racing with unanswered questions and twisted fears. Realiks. Velise. Tessa Bloodlines that shouldn’t connect. Names that should never had cross path.

The sun had barely risen over Marrakesh, casting golden streaks across the aged rooftops. But inside Nova’s hideout, the air was heavy with tension. Alma sat alone at the old wooden table, steam curling from the untouched coffee in her mug. Her fingers tapped against the polished metal of a recovered drive, one of the last fragments from the Eidolon Core. Though they’d destroyed the system, this fragment had survived. And it pulsed faintly like a dying heartbeat.