The Executioner #1 소설 & 이야기

It glistened under the moonlight, with its sharp edge clearly inviting a daring soul to test it. The ground shook as this mammoth made his way towards where the prisoners were headed. His aura alone sucked the life out of the air. With every breath that I took, it felt shallow, almost as if there was no more fresh air left to breath in his wake. I watched as he went down the trail,and with his back finally turned towards us, I asked, "Who was that?" "That's the executioner! He's going to do exactly what you're thinking right now!" Jasper didn't hold back.

It was a sin that stained the soul forever. He had done it all for her, and perhaps that was the reason I couldn’t bring myself to carry out the order immediately. “I found his soul, Enzo! He’s at Dark Moon Lake!” Bernie’s voice broke the silence as I waited. Smoke curled around my arm before gathering in my palm, slowly taking the shape of the executioner’s blade. As the weapon solidified in my grasp, I felt the familiar weight of my duty settle into my chest. My eyes burned, shifting from dark to deep violet, the unmistakable mark of an executioner carrying out a sentence.

I walked to the window and stood there looking out at the grey mountain light. "What are the Executioners," I asked. "Not the title. What are they actually." "They are the Council's answer to a question that was supposed to be permanently resolved," Mara said. "Four individuals, always four, selected and trained specifically for one purpose. They carry blades forged with a compound that disrupts the Veyrith energy core on contact. One cut and the power goes dark. No projection, no regeneration, no presence. Just a body." She paused. "Then they finish it."

And my old man’s voice hit me then, clear as day. “A man who leaves wolves alive don’t deserve peace.” That voice stayed with me all the way down to the docks. I pulled off the main road. Drove along the rusted fence. Warehouse sat low, wide. Gray as death. I parked beside the wall. Killed the engine. Got out. My shoes crunched on the gravel. The door opened before I could knock. Executioner stood there. Face like stone. Gloves already on. He nodded. Quiet, sharp respect. I didn’t say a word.

He was a man awaiting his reckoning. The Executioners, a group of cold, stoic warriors chosen for their ruthlessness, stepped forward. Their faces were concealed behind masks, their eyes the only visible part of them, betraying no emotion. I could see the gleam of the ceremonial axes they held, their polished blades reflecting the sunlight, ready to do what was necessary. I stepped back as Elder Garrick continued. "Let the punishment be carried out." The first strike came quickly, almost too quickly. With just a swipe, Xavier's life was taken in an instant, his body falling to the ground as his head rolled off.

one of them shouted, hurling a blessed silver chain net toward my legs. Fear froze me for a split second, but the mystical warmth in my abdomen roared once more, sending a surge of energy into my muscles. I was never going to be the helpless servant Chloe kicked buckets at ever again. I grabbed the heavy bronze candlestick from the desk with my trembling hands and slammed it with all the strength of my sturdy arms straight into the face of the first executioner who reached me. The metal crashed against his iron mask, sending him stumbling backward as blood poured from his nose.

Silas reached out, his hand finding a discarded tactical rifle, his fingers moving with a slow, agonizing effort to level the weapon at the man who had just stolen the Vane legacy. "You... killed... my... father..." Silas managed to rasp, the words accompanied by a spray of dark, violet-stained blood that painted the deck between them, he wasn't asking for an explanation, he was delivering a sentence, a final act of the Executioner that he had been born to be. Arthur didn't even look at the rifle, he simply tilted his head, and a localized EMP pulse from the girl from the tank fried the weapon’s electronic firing pin, rendering it a useless piece of scrap metal in Silas’s trembling hands.

However, in a secret location deep beneath the Atlantic Ocean, at the headquarters of The Syndicate, a man with a mechanical voice was staring at a screen displaying photos of Liora and Mavric. "Eleanor Thorne has failed," the man said. "She was just a noisy pawn.” Now, send in 'The Executioner'. “We no longer need Chimera through diplomatic channels.” “We will take it through bloodshed." "Who is 'The Executioner', Sir?" asked a subordinate. "The man Liora fears most from her past... The man who was supposed to be dead in a military prison ten years ago. Liora’s older half-brother... Marcus White." A new mystery unfolded.

"It is carved into the very foundation of this fortress, in a room that only the Alphas of the Silver-Moon may enter. It speaks of a girl born of the ink—a girl who would carry the 'Origin' in her blood. It says that when the Queen of Gold returns, the era of the Wolf will fall. It says you would strip us of our teeth, our fur, and our pride. You weren't a glitch, Kaima. You were the **Executioner**." I felt a cold shiver that had nothing to do with the blizzard. All the pain, all the years of feeling like a failure, all the nights I had spent crying and wondering why I wasn't good enough—it had all been a lie. I wasn't rejected because I was less than them. I was rejected because they were

"Screw this." I looked over at Burney, horrified to see him running at Stan. He threw his weight into the Taken's back, knocking him forward. Stan shrieked from the surprise attack and Mike grunted, landing pinned beneath the Taken Scorcher. I turned from the three man pile and reefed the gun free of Ronnie's stiff fingers. "Burney!" He'd separated himself from the other two and was standing over them, poised to strike with Stan's makeshift stake. "You can't kill him that way," I yelled, throwing him the gun, "It'll send the shade bolting to someone else!"