Steel And Flesh Novels & Stories

I would tear them apart. Bone from bone and flesh from flesh.

my power. Beside me, the titan of Lament-Steel was struggling. Eryx’s movements were jagged, his massive frame twitching in sync with the silver static. The violet-black armor that housed the Goddess’s grief was emitting a high-pitched whine, a sound of metal being stretched past its breaking point. His crimson eyes, usually so focused and predatory, were scanning the mist with a growing, terrifying emptiness.

Dax POV The beast hit the soldiers like a boulder crashing down a ravine, unstoppable and merciless. One swipe of its massive paw shattered a man’s shield into splinters, the wood spraying like broken bones. Screams tore through the gulley, sharp and jagged, as soldiers stumbled over loose shale, their blades clattering uselessly against the stone. The air was thick with dust and the copper tang of blood, the ground trembling beneath the creature’s weight. Its fur shimmered unnaturally, laced with silver veins that pulsed like molten light, casting eerie shadows across the jagged walls of the gulley. No natural thing carried that glow. This was no mere beast—it was a forged wrongness, a walk

She passed it through a small flame, the metal glowing briefly before she pressed it into the dense muscle of Rhys’s forearm. The sound was a soft, wet hiss—the sound of steel parting living hide. His arm erupt in a violent, involuntary spasm. Thick cords of veins stood out like rope beneath his skin. In the biting cold, the dark blood steaming as it hit the air, pooling on the grey gravel below. Hestia had to dig, her blade scraping to clear the obsidian shards.

beautiful. He rose to his knees and yanked his thermal shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted, battle-hardened torso covered in faint scars. My mouth went dry at the sight. Then he pushed his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock. It was thick, long, and heavier than I had imagined. The head was flushed dark and already leaking pre-cum. A thick vein ran along the underside. My virgin pussy clenched at the sight, equal parts fear and desperate want.

blonde wood, with an emerald green canopy draped over it. The room screamed royalty. All of the furniture matched the blonde colored wood of the bed. There was a huge armoir on one wall, a vanity with a large ornate mirror behind it, once beautiful rugs adorning the stone floor, and a beautiful chandelier made of what I could only assume was crystal in the center of the ceiling. I walked over to my mother's vanity, and ran my finger over a thick layer of dust. I gasped as the room seemed to spring back to life. "Princess, the castle recognizes your blood signature. It's coming back to life." Gideon told me. I stared at him with wide eyes as the room returned to it's pre-dilapitated state. "

The texture of his flesh hardened, the pores sealing shut, the muscles beneath becoming dense, interlocking fibers of biological steel. The Sweeper tried to crush his throat. Clang. The sound was metal on metal. The Sweeper paused. Its logic processor couldn't compute. The neck it was holding had turned into a solid rod of titanium-like bone. Marcus’s eyes opened. The whites were gone. His eyes were pools of solid, burnished mercury. "My turn," Marcus’s voice sounded different—deeper, resonant, like a bell tolling underwater. He swung his fist. This time, when his fist connected with the Sweeper’s gargoyle jaw, there was a sickening crack. The bio-concrete skin shattered. The Sweeper’s head

As Tristan lunged, feinting high and thrusting low, the Infiltrator parried the rapier with his bare forearm. CLANG. The sound of steel hitting metal echoed in the silo. Tristan’s eyes widened. Augmentations. The Infiltrator’s arm wasn't flesh; it was subcutaneous Aether-steel plating. The man sneered beneath his black mask, lunging forward and delivering a brutal, piston-driven punch to Tristan’s chest. Tristan scrambled backward, barely bringing the flat of his blade up in time to absorb the blow. The sheer kinetic force threw him backward, his boots skidding across the slick grating until he slammed hard into a crate of unrefined chalcedony.

He closed his eyes, and his mind immediately flashed back to the docks. The memory was too vivid, too real. He could still smell the salty, dirty water of the river mixed with the metallic scent of blood. He had been there. He had stood in the shadows of that cold warehouse and watched with his own eyes how Andreas handled people who crossed him. The brutality had been efficient, cold, and completely lacking any human mercy. Andreas hadn't hesitated for a single second while he tortured that man on the concrete floor.

The heavy vault door opened enough for Cain to pull it open completely. He stepped into the steel hallway inside, doors similar to the one we'd just passed through lined each wall, stretching on as far as I could see. After every few doors stood men big enough to be linebackers. Some of them had buzzcuts, others had tattoos crawling up their arms to disappear under the Kevlar vest they wore. Scars marred a few of the men's faces and others were adorned with facial piercings. The shadows cast on their hardened faces by the fluorescent lighting above us were aggressive.