Stalker Bf 소설 & 이야기

Lizzy whispered while trying to return it back to her. "He seems really scary, and I can't take a step forward. Just go over and throw it at him then you return" Isabella pushed her forward. Lizzy handed the paper over to Sebastian and immediately kept her distance. "Mr. Adrian has to prove his usefulness by catching the stalker within a year, if not he will pay back 10 times of every dime!" The more Sebastian read, the more he felt that the whole thing is ridiculous. "Are you crazy?! You even went on to tell him about the stalker?! What the hell has gotten into you?!" He yelled at Isabella who immediately hid behind Lizzy.

Her eyes traced a slow, predatory path from my head down to my toes, a cold, mocking smirk playing on her lips. "You certainly seem to be getting the VIP treatment this morning, don't you?" Chloe’s voice was a low, melodic hiss. I halted exactly three feet away from her. I didn't give her the satisfaction of an immediate defense. I remembered what Maya and Stella had told me—don't feed the trolls. Especially not the ones in designer heels. Chloe tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from my cup. "It’s rare to see Jovan Bradford lingering in a breakroom just to watch someone brew a pot of coffee," she continued, her laugh short and sharp.

Every kill was absolute. "Retrieve the beacon data!" Elena commanded, her voice amplified by the Null-link. One of the Stalkers, a girl no older than nineteen whose eyes were a fierce, permanent gold, dove for the silver spike. She ripped it from the ground, the violet light dying instantly as she crushed the internal processor between her fingers. The Final Handshake of the Flats The skirmish lasted less than three minutes. Of the thirty Liquidators, only one remained, the Lead Liquidator, his helmet cracked, his shoulder pinned to the obsidian by a jagged vine that had grown through his suit in seconds.

"In my mountain? In her room?" Vincent raised his hand, and the shadows of the room rose like a tidal wave, wrapping around the Stalker. It was a battle of darkness against darkness. Vincent’s magic was ancient and grounded in the earth, while the Stalker’s was a corrupted, alchemical imitation. "Félix, now!" Vincent commanded. Félix, gasping for air, saw his opening. He reached into the pouch on his belt—the one Maya had given us—and pulled out a vial of concentrated Blue-Brier and lunar salt. He smashed the vial directly into the Stalker’s face.

I murmured under my breath. Ezra’s team was already here. I thought we were fast enough — we adjusted our plan right after resting and set off without even a moment to catch our breath. Yet Ezra still managed to get here before us and intercept us. Smart bastard. The basin below us looked like horrifying. Dust rolled in silver clouds under the moon. Broken stone was scattered everywhere. One Stalker lay twisted near the western shelf, its fur black with blood. Another had collapsed near a boulder with its throat ripped open so badly I could see the shine of bone under the torn flesh.

Bella put her hand on his thigh and murmured, "they watched everyone in my family die. I want to be here when we finish the last twenty people." "I would have arranged a live zoom call for you, dumb head." Hunter lifted his head and turned to her with a grin, "I would also have arranged for a blood bath if you had wanted." "God..." Bella muttered in disgust, "I am not some psychopath." "You think you are not." Hunter's grin turned to a teasing smile, "going around killing people is an act of psychopathy."

They were massive, prowling the edge of the crater on four multi-jointed limbs, their featureless heads sweeping back and forth. Unlike the Sentinels, the Stalkers didn't just delete what they touched. From their backs, tendrils of void-whips lashed out, casually unmaking boulders and debris as they paced. There were six of them. We were out of comms. Dax looked at me, then at Reaper and Sienna. He tapped two fingers against his chest, then pointed to the left flank of the crater. I will draw them left. He pointed to Reaper and Sienna, slicing his hand down the middle. You take the center. Cover fire if it goes loud. Finally, he looked at me and pointed directly at the glowing purple tear in

"They found our boot prints in the mud." One of the Stalkers stopped. He knelt, examining the ground. He looked up, straight at the bush where Ben was hiding. The Stalker raised his rifle. "Ambush!" Jack roared. He exploded from cover. He didn't use his gun. Gunshots attracted more attention. He used speed. He closed the distance in two seconds. The Stalker fired. The bullet went wide as Jack slid on the wet leaves, sweeping the man's legs. The Stalker fell. Jack was on him, knife at the throat.

This time, they were not just the heavy stone‑skin shapes we knew new forms joined them: slimmer, taller, grey‑shade skin like smoke‑mixed rock, moving faster, gliding close to walls, silent as drifting dust. “Smoke‑Stalkers,” Kael named them grimly. “More clever, harder to hit and they love narrow spaces.” Alexus instantly formed us into tight wedge formation: he led one side, Kael the other, protecting Maya and Marco and me in centre. “Fire works but steady, coordinated light works better,” he reminded. As first Stalker slid out like fluid darkness, we advanced together torches extended outward, glowing triangle between us burning stronger. Every time they tried to slip between or flank, o