Sacred Blade Barber Novels & Stories

Sigurd was charged with finding the other two women, but there was no way he was waiting for him here. Common sense prevailed and he set her down in the chair briefly before covering her with his borrowed cloak. The barber who had shortened his hair had also advised a shave was in order so that he would not attract undue attention. He had agreed, with curses, and being subject to the mockery of his friend, though all in a good cause.

"If you get sweaty or dusty at the border, use this!" "We stayed up all night making them, you know!" Liora added, puffing out her chest with immense pride. Lucas merely rolled his eyes—giving them that classic, unbothered trooling gaze he always reserved for his cousins' theatrical antics. Ignoring the floral-stitched handkerchiefs entirely, Lucas stepped forward with a proud, tall posture. With a dramatic, deliberate motion, he patted the new scabbard at his hip, proudly showing off the rune-engraved steel blade forged specifically by Althea.

The air crackled with unspoken animosity as they engaged in a tense, emotional banter, the weight of past grievances and unspoken conflicts hanging heavily between them. As the conversation reached a fever pitch, Satan's chilling words cut through the air like a blade, informing Asmo that he was right at the door. In a swift and calculated motion, Asmo summoned his "Saber," a formidable weapon that served as the extension of his very being. The blade materialized, its form reminiscent of a dark, solidified storm cloud, crackling with an otherworldly energy that bespoke its deadly purpose.

"So, if there's any grudge, settle it with them. Please don't involve us!" They desperately tried to distance themselves from Prospera Corporation. Before they could finish, Blade casually drew a dagger from his waist and slit an old man's throat. Blood gushed out as life fled his body. "Fuck it! I'm killing you old bastards! Do you think I didn't see what happened earlier? Bunch of turncoats! If Frederick and everyone else find you annoying, so do I!" Blade then declared impatiently, "If none of you have any connections with the company, you can all die!"

He stepped forward immediately, face contorted in a livid scowl as he struck the Reverend who defended with crossed cracked veils twice in annoyed rage. The High blade attacked with another Most Reverend in toll, forcing Berlak back just as the priest’s veils shattered under the blow and Berlak’s sword bit into the flesh of his shoulder. Surprisingly, Berlak took his sword with him as he was forced back, ripping the inflicted wound apart and leaving a far messier cut than it should have been.

The voices called again, I looked to see Damon had transformed, his black wolf's fangs deep into the throat of the attacker. “Sera!” I jumped looking around for the source of the voice as the chaos started to fade from view. “You half-breed slut!” I looked up to see a scraggly-looking man holding a knife pointed at me. My breathing increased as I raised my hands. He laughed before bringing it down towards my stomach. I instinctively shielded my stomach with my hands screaming in agony as the blade went straight through my skin. Damon howled as other wolves followed, I watched with tears streaming as the man turned around brandishing the knife to the other wolves stopping them from coming any

They then burst into laughter, heard my explanation. "Thank you," I avoided. “Next time.” "Reverence," Big K teased. If it just once to paid my reverence, okay then. I grabbed the glass, then immediately drank it down. To increase the sensation in my throat, I grabbed the cigarette pack. I took one stick, lit it, sucked it in, and blew it slowly. After that, Santos borrowed my guitar and then started working on it. Then, Big K continued his critics about the Saltyville eviction plan by the government. Saltyville was where the Saltyroth-Dolly bordello complex lies. Santos and Cole nodded in agreement, while I did not know anything.

“Oh, Seraphim’s blade. I’d never seen this in a long long time. Seraph Blade killed many of my people. Where did you get it, my dear?” “Not telling you anything.” He looked at Lucius. “Is this the same blade given to you by your father-in-law?” What was he talking about? I watched Ryden shift and divert his gaze away, looking hurt. “I wish, but that’s what killed her. Mine is safe somewhere.” Wait. What? He has a sword just like mine? “But this blade also shapes according to the wielder. Am I right? And it’s Katana for her. She must have been trained by a great sensei.”

he instructed, his voice steady but firm. His team immediately complied, scanning the surgical site with careful precision. Every vessel had to be examined, every stitch secure. Even the slightest uncontrolled bleed could turn into a catastrophe. Marcus observed as his assistants moved efficiently, scanning for leaks, ensuring that no silent danger lurked beneath the surface. The seconds stretched, but soon, the verdict was in—no active bleeding. The bypass held perfectly. It was time to close.

Gunnar added, leaning closer, his voice low. The barber swallowed hard, his initial bravado now replaced by a sheepish demeanor. “Yes, of course. I’ll stick to the haircut.” Gunnar leaned back, his mood slightly soured but still amused by the situation. The barber, clearly embarrassed and eager to make amends, quickly focused on his task, working diligently to perfect the Classic Quiff cut. Rene, still sipping his whiskey, finally looked up, noticing the tension. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Everything alright?”