Scud Blade Novels & Stories

"Everyone, all in! Take his head for White Wolf!" The crowd attacked in unison, either using their fists and feet, or wielding machetes and iron bars, charging toward Blood Sickle's head. "You want to kill me? In your dreams!" Blood Sickle laughed coldly as a sickle-shaped weapon appeared in his hand without anyone's notice. It was the Scythe of Death. Countless people had died under this scythe, which was why he was called Blood Sickle.

What right did Tristan have to go to Esther's house now? At that moment, his friend, Matthew Hudson, came up with an idea. "Tristan, I just remembered. The Straburgh investment conference is next month. You can attend, representing your company. Since Russell Group is a major player there, they'll definitely be attending. "Esther is a loyal person. You two have been together for eight years, and they've only known each other for a few months. How can he be compared to you?"

“She’s locked in a container on my dock. If I have to pull the trigger, I’ll have my men drop her in the ocean —ALIVE.” Rocco’s grip wavered as he took the gun. His fingers trembled, nearly dropping it. Mr Blade stepped toward Rocco, gripping his cane. He pulled off the rubber tip at the bottom—revealing a sharp blade. With a brutal thrust, he stabbed Rocco’s foot. Rocco screamed. Mr Blade twisted the blade deeper. "I pull it out; it goes in your back next. Stop wasting my time." Rocco sobbed. Dontrell’s voice cut through, counting. "One. Two—"

With extreme fear, Delilah shook her head vigorously as she pleaded, "Tristan, it's me, Lila! What are you…" A scream echoed through the air as he slapped her harshly across the face. He inserted the dagger between her thighs, his tone frosty as he asked, "Was this what you did to my child?" With each word Tristan spoke, his voice grew quieter. Soon, all that could be heard were Delilah's faint gasps. The live stream flickered with static, but the ban still hadn't been enforced. I felt a chill down my spine as I met his eyes on-screen.

Aziz murmured a snarky remark, so only I could hear. I didn’t spare him a glance, instead. “Uncle, do you want me to?” “Yes,” Eren said. “Bring the scimitar.” I took the other curved blade from its box. Not a hellblade flashing a ruby, just good old steel. The old man’s eyes lit when it flashed. He set the cane aside with his thumb stroking the curve of the blade. “Magnificent,” he breathed. “This blade looks so good. Can you fix it up for me before purchase? sharpen it, nothing vulgar since it is a gift.”

Aethelred raised his scythe for a killing blow, his eyes two pits of ancient, unblinking light. "The ending is the same, Emma," he whispered. "The Wolf always returns to the dark." I didn't dodge. I Inverted. I let the Aether-Glass blade pass through my shoulder, the pain a white-hot agony that grounded me in the present. As the blade entered my flesh, I grabbed the hilt of his scythe with my bare hand. I didn't use my power to break it. I used my Scars. I flooded the Aether-Glass with the memory of the Cellar. I showed the ancient blade the feeling of the cold iron, the smell of the straw, and the heat of the Rebel’s first touch. I showed it the "Noise" of a life lived in the mess.

Miguel was cleaning his caliber 45 in his hut at their camp. That’s where he would live with the other soldiers. He felt like the gun is already a part of him. It was with him like forever. It was his partner way before he was still starting in the army up until now that he became an officer designated in this province. At the age of 28, he’s already successful with what he has achieved in the army. But he admits that it was not an easy road going to where he is now.

"When a coin falls, don't pick it up because what? Because I can be overseen!?" I stepped closer to the bed and picked up my gold purse before I walked out the door. When I got outside, I caught Blade wiping his big bike. He told me that bike's name and it was the weirdest thing in the world. Its name is Sketcher. I mean, could you believe how softie Blade is? I also wonder how could Liam not notice that Blade comes home at the Dawson? Liam had never doubted him and ordered his people to follow his personal guard.

I remembered putting a small flashlight on the drawer beside the door and started walking towards it but due to the darkness, I stumbled upon a glass vase that fell on the floor and made a loud sound. The flashlight was so small and the battery was running out making it produce an extremely weak light—too weak to help me see clearly. Nevermind. With the small light I have, I walked towards the kitchen as fast as I could to get a knife. I need to make sure that I am safe in case something’s happening out there. I felt someone’s presence behind me as I immediately swung the knife at them but it hit no one, but the wind. Damn! He's fast! Or maybe he has someone with him?

He’s confident, skilled in his craft and wicked with war scythe. Zane uses a war scythe to harvest the souls to bring back to Death. It’s where the whole concept of the grim reaper's image comes from in the human world. It’s because they took the idea from Zane’s coven. Of course, at the time, they didn’t know. They thought it was all made-up shit in stories. Zane’s war scythe is a badass. The top part of the blade has jimppings as the blade curves toward where it meets the staff; it has black bone-like fragments sticking from it. On the bottom of the staff, there is a badass-looking skull.