Naruto Executioner Blade Novels & Stories

He recovered instantly and drove an elbow toward my throat that would’ve crushed cartilage if I hadn’t slipped it at the last second. For someone so young, he was fast and pretty precise. This wasn’t Alpha combat. The Executioner’s eyes flicked once toward Lyra’s body behind me. Then he moved for her. I lunged. His left hand flashed into his coat and came back holding a black kunai. Aiming straight upward. The blade left his hand spinning through the canopy gap overhead. I stopped instinctively and watched it rise. It should’ve fallen immediately. Instead it halted at the apex. Hanging there.

I squatted on his body, then I picked up Yamato Minobe's spearhead again. And slowly, I stabbed the spearhead into Yamato Kakuzo's heart. He saw me in his pathetic state, while I smiled like a psychopath. "HYUN KI... YOU ARE..." I again pulled the spearhead from his heart, then I aimed it at Luca who wanted to attack me from behind. At that very moment. The tip of the spear's sharp blade swirled, then the spear's blade cut off his head in the blink of an eye.

The pain of it was a physical white–hot agony in my shared chest. The hesitation was all Blade needed. The curse, fed by that fresh, devastating pain, surged back with a vengeance. The grey in his eyes vanished, swallowed by the violent red-blue. *I’LL SHOW YOU STRONG!* With a snarl that held no humanity, Blade’s clawed paw shot out. It wasn’t a swipe to wound. It was a killing blow. Fast, brutal, final. The girl’s whimper was cut off. Silence, except for the drip of the rain and Blade’s heavy panting.

A Tiger General who betrayed the old way would be no general at all. I clenched my jaw. My hand twitched at my side. The executioner’s eyes flicked up to mine. Waiting and Ready. I gave the signal. My arm lifted, cutting through the air with practiced precision. A clean command, as I had given dozens of times before. My soldiers shifted, anticipation rippling through them. The executioner moved. The great blade rose high, glinting in the morning light. It poised above her neck, and for the first time in all my years of war, I felt powerless.

He trailed off, uncertainty washing over his face. Sara straightened in her wheelchair. "What's happening? Why is he waiting?" "Gregory," Linda stood now, her elegant features hardening. "The pack is waiting." The Alpha raised his hand again, this time more firmly. "Executioner, proceed." The masked figure nodded, raising the silver blade high above my exposed neck. Torchlight bounced off its surface, momentarily blinding me. This was it. My final heartbeats, my final breaths. The blade began its downward swing.

I used that momentum to roll his balance and shove him down. The bulky man tried to rise, shaking with pain, but my foot found the tendon behind his knee and I pushed. He went down in a crashing, breathless heap. They both crawled, seeking their swords, seeking salvation. Meanwhile I moved like an executioner. It was time to end it. The blade flashed twice—surgical cuts aimed at the artery-rich necks. Heads came free with a small, wet sound, their bodies lolling like cut stalks. I picked both heads in my hands, warmth and weight and the shocked blankness of their faces looking up at me.

Two blades in a sheath. John even got goosebumps, and his hands reached for the blades themselves. His blades! Flawless, perfectly balanced, made of a special alloy, the secret of which only the Coven knew. Jon took out each of the blades and ran his hand over them lovingly, as if they were the most precious thing in his life. The blades were somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese sword - a katana, but slightly different from it. The same narrow and ideal, but still with their own secret, which no one is supposed to know about, except for the Hunter himself.

“And an heir whose soul has been marked by fate itself!” Soren growled even louder. “You know nothing!” “I know everything, and that’s exactly why I’m here!” I shot back, steadying my grip on the blade. “Soren of Ravencrest, do you confess to the murder of Ned Michaels, your own blood, your cousin?” “I confess, and I don’t regret it!” he declared without hesitation. The knife in my hand grew longer, its edge seeming to pulse as if it reacted to my determination. As an executioner, I felt my duty settle over me; cold, firm, and unwavering. I lifted the blade higher, ready to carry out my judgment.

With one last grin, he shut his eyes. A golden flash of light whizzed through the air straight at the blade as the executioner brought it down at Dickson’s neck. A loud metallic clang was heard as the blade flew off the executioner’s hand, and he took a few steps back from the impact. The flash of light came from a throwing knife, or more accurately a thinly-built scalpel, hailing from Tyr Summer’s own Bian Que needles. “Who is it?” The guards on the platform swiftly unsheathed their swords and set them on Dickson’s neck while observing their surroundings in high alert.

His blade slashed with incredible speed and ferocity. It seemed as if it could tear through the air itself. Kiran just raised an eyebrow slightly and said, "So, you're Ichiro Matsubara, one of the three great masters from Sunland." Ichiro Matsubara paused, his tone harsh, "How do you know me?" "Your little tricks? How could I not know?" Kiran didn't say that it was Lindsay Ludwig who had informed him. "Damn it!" Ichiro, feeling disregarded, grew furious, and his attacks became more frenzied. With one strike, rocks split, trees fell, and even the birds were harmed by the force of his blade.