Six Blades Jiu-jitsu Keller Novels & Stories

The knife spun away. Keller kicked out when the two rolled past him. His boot struck something, but what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could do much else, the two—oblivious to anything but their frantic fight to overcome the other—tumbled onto the portion of the incline that became a drastic downward slope. “Vince!” Keller shouted. The two of them sailed down the slope toward the edge of the mountain ledge. Ruben’s heart pounded. He saw it happening and couldn’t stop it, but he did realize Javier’s rifle had strayed from him. He rushed at Javier.

And Jenny sees in her opponent's eyes that she's not met a left-hander before. The punch lands cleanly, and from her peripheral vision, Jenny sees judges jotting on papers, registering a blow landed. Kelly is entirely off-balance. As Jenny jabs and strikes again, the blonde girl tries to defend, but her defence is askew, Jenny's left fist easily by-passing it and once more landing cleanly. The blonde backs away, her weight against the ropes. The referee raises a hand, "One, Two… Kelly stands, panting, head hanging, but at the count of six, steps forward again.

The blade sliced through empty air. Before Dane could recover— Her wrist flicked. The dull edge skimmed neatly across the sleeve of his coat. A clean line appeared in the fabric. Dane glanced downward. "...First point." Kiara merely raised an eyebrow. "You were slow." His grin widened. "Good." "I hate easy opponents." --- The next exchange began instantly. Neither waited. Neither defended. Their bodies became little more than blurred shadows racing across the arena. Clink! Clang! Tak! Steel rang continuously.

I rasped, shoving Carter’s massive hands away from my shoulder pads. "Jeremiah, stay down." Talia slid onto her knees beside me, a medical jump bag swinging from her shoulder. "You hit the boards at thirty miles an hour. Let me check your neck." "I’m fine." Gritting my teeth, I forced myself onto one knee. Looking down, the problem glared back at me. The molded plastic chassis of my custom Bauer skate was completely intact. The steel blade itself was gone. It had sheared clean off, leaving a jagged, dangerous edge of metal flush against the plastic holder.

"I'll be right here. If it goes wrong, I'll step in before anyone gets hurt. But I don't think it will." I took the wooden blade offered to me, my palms already damp despite the cold morning air, and settled into the stance Silas had drilled into me over eight months at the cabin, weight balanced, blade angled low, eyes moving between all three opponents instead of fixing on any single one. Bram gave me a small, reassuring nod before the drill began, the kind of gesture that told me he, at least, expected me to hold my own.

The heady odor of his perspiration aroused me. “All of Richard’s swords are weapons grade,” Erik said. “Which means they can kill you.” “They’re beautiful, but I wouldn’t want to be caught on the other side of that,” I said, noticing the razor-like edge of the blade. “Richard could teach you some practical self-defense. He’s a good fighter,” Erik said. “Thena can defend herself,” Richard said. “I’m a first degree Aikido black belt,” I said. Indeed, I had trained for about ten years.

Porcelain hands, relentless, snapping another's wrist, tanto-drop, knee, gutting third windless. We fought synced lethal—his dominance blade my fury heel, bodies brushing mid-strike, sweat-slick, obsidian meeting hazel mid-bloodspray. Last rebel charged me knife-high; I sidestepped twist, palm-heel nose-shatter, Kenji's bokken finishing spine-crack. Dojo reeked slaughter, copper-thick, tatami slick crimson pools, our chests heaving thunder-sync, indigo hakamas spattered gore.

The Southia official couldn't understand him at all despite listening intently. "Jules, if you're afraid to die, I can give you another chance," Sebastian called out from the arena. "Kneel and grovel before me in front of the world's media outlets. Admit that karate came from copying Dramon's 72 Spring Kicks, and I'll spare your life!" Sebastian never expected Jules to grovel. He was only worried that Jules would forfeit or admit defeat. If he did, it would be no fun at all. Sebastian had to goad him into getting angry.

I jumped after him. The impact was hard, but I rolled off, pulled my cutter and activated it. The blue-white blade cut through the thick, damp air. “A companion, left!” Kael called when two of the creatures jumped from the side to me. I ducked, my movements were almost intuitive with his Adopted by the Commission. While I was rolling under the first veil, Kael rammed the second his knee into the skull and shattered his crystalline armoring. I stabbed with the cutter, my hand was calm, my breath was even. We were

The rest of the time, she trained. The old storage shed had become a true gym now. Mats worn soft by bare feet. The punching bag scarred and patched. Blades hung along one wall, carefully spaced. Spears leaned in the corner. A salvaged odachi rested wrapped and respectful on a rack Dade had built himself. Alex lived there. She moved between disciplines the way some people changed songs. One morning it was Brazilian jiu-jitsu, drilling transitions until her body stopped thinking and simply answered. The next afternoon it was taekwondo—high, sharp kicks snapping through the air with startling ease. Jeet Kune Do threaded through it all, principles absorbed rather than memorized. Economy. Interc