Metal Knuckles Novels & Stories

The first had a white Mikarta handle (a material made with a combination of resin and cloth subjected to pressure and heat) and both the guard and the knob were made of Adamantite, a magical metal considered one of the three most resistant metals ( along with meteoric iron and Orichalco). On the other hand, the second was superior in quality, the handle was made of bone wrapped in black leather, the guard and the pommel were made of a metal similar to platinum, this being Mithryl, with the difference that in the pommel of this there was a large inlaid ruby. The armor was perfectly tailored to fit Keil's feminine figure, giving her an intimidating yet beautiful aura. Near the fountain, leanin

With a smirk playing on my lips, I decided to take a shot in the dark, figuratively speaking. "Look time no see, Piero," I remembered this fuckface. "You were the one who helped Massimo to unload smuggled the guns." He sneered at me like he was a venomous snake about to spit. "It's Pietro, you dumb fuck." I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at Piero's correction. Even Enzo seemed to be enjoying the show. I retrieved the brass knuckles from my pocket, feeling their solid weight in my hand. The knuckles were crafted from gleaming, hardened brass, reflecting a polished sheen as they glistened under the light. Their intricate design showcased a rugged elegance, boasting four individual finger ho

A gleam of silver shot toward Blake's chest. Although Blake didn't know what the shining object was, he could feel a sense of extreme danger. He dodged quickly to avoid Caleb's punch. However, he did not dodge quickly enough, and it grazed his abdomen. He felt a piercing pain at once, and Blake realized that Caleb was wearing brass knuckles. However, the brass knuckles were different from ordinary ones. There was a steel needle that was about an inch long on the middle finger. Blake said angrily, "Caleb, you are shameless! How can you wear brass knuckles in a martial arts battle?"

It was as if he hit a very solid material without penetrating then he spoke. “I don’t care who you’re or what you’re I will finish you right here, right now...” “Do… Try.” The being countered as mass of thin tendrils weaved together on his arms to form a knuckleduster with three long claws extending on both hands. The man eyes slightly widened at the sight of it.

I am in mourning. I walk towards the sliding doors and the pungent smell of medicine hits me. It's a small building with only a few rooms as wolves don't face problems with health unless they were attacked with silver. Silver. The room spins and I close my eyes shut, my fingers stroking my aching head. The knife that was thrust into my male was the most dangerous of all. Handcrafted with a mix of mercury and pure silver also called guicksilver. I made sure to possess every single detail of that knife. It was made exactly for one purpose... to kill.

In fact, in his jacket pocket, Lucas was clenching his fists so tightly, his knuckles turned white and his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. ***

These weren’t just mechanical replacements; they were monstrosities forged for violence. The man on the left bore a hulking metal arm, its surface rusted and streaked with crimson stains—blood or paint, it was impossible to tell. The intricate gears and pistons that made up his forearm hissed with every subtle movement, tubes of glowing red fluid snaking through the steel like veins. The hand itself was grotesquely oversized, a jagged blend of metal plates and claws that looked capable of crushing bone with a flick of his wrist.

The way they'd patted her shoulder while poisoning her with fucking mercury. I turned away before I kicked them awake. The steel table glinted under the flickering bulb. Jesus Christ. It looked like an army surplus store threw up. Knives with serrated edges. Pliers that could crack molars. A blowtorch that probably cost more than my first car. Rolin propped himself against the wall, arms crossed. Watching. Always watching. "All yours," he purred. Like he'd set out a fucking buffet. The brass knuckles fit my fingers like they'd been waiting for me. Cold. Heavy. Right.

I look back at Skinner. He hands me a small knife; I pulls up my shirt sleeve and cut a small line putting the same pressure Knuckles was and all I do is wince slightly. I wave the knife at him when I'm done. I see Knuckles smirking at me. The skin starts to tingle where I put the small cut and I feel a rush run through me.

"I... I can't... breathe..." Marcus, the team’s bulwark, roared. The veins in his neck bulged like thick, blue cords. He tried to raise his kinetic shield, but the device sparked and whined, its internal gyroscopes screaming against the pressure. CRACK. The reinforced alloy of his knee guards splintered. The giant of a man was forced down to one knee, the stone beneath him spider-webbing outward.