Novel & Cerita Undertaker Black Butler Scythe

“Do you know why? Because she doesn’t drain me. She feeds me. Just as I feed her. We are symbiosis. We are balance. We are what the books never predicted.” “The Council… the Council will want to know about this…” “The Council will find out soon enough.” I tilted my head. “And it will learn.” I extended my hand to the side, and the air tore open in violet and silver. My black scythe slid out of the pocket dimension, the ebony handle fitting perfectly in my palm. The curved blade gleamed, ancient runes pulsing in shades of violet. The leader looked at the scythe. Then at me. “That is… a scythe of death…”

] Attached to the message is a live video feed. On the screen, Edwin Clarke—the old butler who secretly gave me extra rations and protected me when Piper tried to starve me out—is kneeling in the mud outside the Eastmoor Quarter, a heavy silver blade pressed tightly against his throat. Standing behind him, holding the hilt with a cold, terrifying smirk, is Kieran Ravenscroft himself. My eyes turn a lethal, glowing crimson in the darkness of the room. My breath comes out in a slow, steady hiss as my claws—real, thick, razor-sharp wolf claws—burst through the tips of my fingers, tearing right through my tactical gloves.

I cut him off impatiently as we geared towards the front door. It abruptly opened and in front of us was an old butler. My eyes narrowed, he looked human. To make more caution, I threw a dose of wolfsbane powder at him. It had no effect, only making him cough instead with a frown on his face. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “He seems human.” Sebastian whispered from behind me. I scowled deeply, “We’re looking for someone. Asher Blackwood and Aurora Thompson to be precise.” I studied his face greatly for any sign of a facade, he remained stoic, eyes expressionless, “I don’t think I know who that is.”

0064: The New Nightingale 0065: SIDE STORY PART ONE 0066: SIDE STORY PART TWO _______ Arc 3: Reaper's Scythe Is A Scissor?! Update: Ongoing "Yow! Sinful soul, how about you behave for a little while for my scythe to bring you to the underworld peacefully?" I grinned as I took out my grim kiddie size scissors with the host's favourite cartoon character. The soul I encountered was flabbergasted at first but then started to laugh after, "Pft! You call that a scythe? What? You gonna rip my soul or cut my hair instead?! I bet that's safety scissors only enough to cut a paper! Hahaha!"

He saw the dead bodies of the men that followed Raymond to run away. They all had their heads cut off from their bodies. Only Raymond's body was missing. He then looked up towards the trees near the building. He saw on top the tree was a figure standing on the tallest tree branch. The figure had a sword behind it's back, a strange mask on it's face and bloodshot eyes. It stared down at the butler who smiled, flashing out his thin snake-like fangs. "Bleach," the butler muttered. "The artifact," he whispered, looking down at the Butcher's hands that held a huge brown coffin.

The tattooed man kicked again, doubling me over as his foot connected with my stomach. "Any last words?" He sneered, leaning over me. I forced my gaze up, meeting his eyes. He grinned, warping the sun tattoo into an odd shape on his cheek. "Well?" I opened my mouth, about to cuss at him when he fell forward, covering me in a splatter of blood. I gasped. I'd thought the pain from him kicking me was bad, but the pain of his dead weight bearing down on my beaten body had me balancing the edge of consciousness. I looked up, trying to force the engulfing black away and met pale blue eyes. It seemed my guardian wasn't just a pretty face.

Their conversations halted, laughter died, and glasses that had once clinked in celebration were now held in frozen grips. Every eye was on us. Or rather—on him. |||Oh fuck! It's him.|| |||Right! Theron Blackmoor. The Prominent Blackmoor family’s only male heir.||| |||Wait! Do you mean the heir to the mighty Phantom Core International? The same one who seldom came out to the public except for rare cases?||| |||Right! He is the one. One time I got to see his picture via Elira’s Livestream of her family pictures. I've been obsessively in love with him since then, can't believe I get to see him in real life today.|||

His chocolate brown skin is so tempting like the sun in the winters. Did I mention his lips? Full. Plump. Wet. As he was nervously licking them. When his lips stretched an ‘O’ in astonishment when I turned to him. He might be 22 or 23 years old. Simple. Innocent. It was so hard for me to resist him. But I have self control. Better than anyone. "Good evening Mr Malcom ". The butler, Mason, my trustworthy butler bowed, gesturing me to take a seat as the dinner was about to be served. Callum followed the suite. And I smiled knowing that Mason would have informed him about his seat.

The Undertaker peeled off his hood to reveal his green, wrinkled skin, pointy ears, and purple pupils. “I am Jerome Moss.” But Pulse knew him as; “Father” Stranded in the warden’s offices Pulse arched his back to conjure a spell. But the undertaker waved his staff, casting, blue chains that bound his and Dolos’s wrist behind their backs. “Cyrpto chains.” Dolos said. We can’t cast our spells with these on.” “That’s correct, Faithless one.” The Under taker said. “I can’t allow anyone to strike at me until the the convergence takes place.”

Nate asked and Stefano just hummed "Trust me I do know what I'm doing, pass me the scissors" he muttered to Spade and he was quick to pass it to Stefano "Hold this" he muttered letting Spade's hand to press down on the cotton wool, Matteo was still squirming, Stefano poured the whiskey on the scissors before he slowly looked at Spade "you can let it go now" Spade nodded and let it go. Spade looked at Stefano and when he opened the wound, it was a deep hole, Spade could see the bullet in it, he looked at Nate and the young man looked horrified, he got up and stood in front of Nate