Surgical Obsidian Blade Mga Nobela at Kwento

They were thick at the base, engineered to anchor into bone, yet the tips were so impossibly fine they looked capable of slicing through a steel plate on a molecular level. A soft, breathy gasp escaped Yolande's lips. She didn't pull away. Instead, she reached out with her right hand, her warm, soft fingers gently touching the side of his transformed hand. She traced the hard, ridge-like structure of the obsidian claw on his index finger, noting the complete absence of human flexibility. It was a rigid, lethal instrument of pure dominance.