What Did Technoblade Look Like Novels & Stories

I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed the doors open. He did not look up at me as I walked in. He was scrolling instead through something on a holographic screen projected above the desk. The light illuminated his features in harsh blue. My eyes trailed his sculpted jaw, high cheekbones and lips that looked like they had never once curved into a smile. If there was one person who absolutely needed the fantasy that Obsidian tech had to offer, I would say it was him. Even at rest, his face carried disdain, as though the world itself bored him.

As my fault, for not being good enough. An year after that had been an year of breaking myself. I did not wish the same upon Noel. _______________________________ NOEL He hadn't fully recovered. And he never would. Now when people laid eyes on the Firstblade, they'd see a man with pale lips, canines longer and their tips pointed more then the others. They'd see the dark lines etched into his fair skin, from his hands up to his jaw. But they just showed how strong he was. "Noel."

He glared at him “You look cute HAHA” Blaine was taken aback. He didn't notice it right away because it was dark, but now that the flashlight is pointed at him, he can clearly see his features. He has the appearance of a Hollywood actor. With his pointed nose, razor-sharp jaw, long eyelashes, and hazelnut eyes. You have to be kidding me. Is this still a person?! He resembles the male leads in those romance animes! “Blaine?” He flinched as Almothean stood right in front of him, staring at him with intrigue.

His lats spread out in a clear V shape down to a slim waist. Sweat shined on his tan skin, following the line of his spine and soaking into the waistband of his low gray sweatpants. He was ruthless. He looked less like a corporate billionaire and more like a cage fighter. Then, I saw it. A scar. It was rough and white, stretching from his left shoulder blade down to his ribs. It was an old, harsh injury. It didn’t match the image of a "tech mogul." It looked like a knife cut…a story he would do anything to keep secret.

The whole thing radiated restrained power, like he might snap the ropes at any second. Damn. No wonder he blew up. I snorted and started typing. [I'm not desperate, okay? I'm simply a fan of pretty aesthetics. Any guy willing to make an effort scores points with me. That's just how it works!] After replaying the video a few times, something started feeling off. That tiny mole beside his Adam's apple, the mark on his collarbone that looked suspiciously like a bite scar... Then Bridget's verdict popped up. [Holy crap, he looks exactly like your ex!]

I stood outside, under the harsh sun for about three minutes before I broke the lock of the door in annoyance and walked in. The first thing I did was to chug down a beer and then get an ice bag to help my sore ankles. Munching a bundle of crunchy biscuits, I waited patiently for Blade who still hadn’t replied my message. After consuming six bottles of beer and countless snacks, I watched a black sedan drive in and park in the coffee shop’s driveway. Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side.

Especially when the pay was good. None of them, but the technician, the senator, or the executive, noticed the barnacle sized machine that crawled out of the tank, inched its way toward the deck, and sent a half second burst of code. About a mile away, safe within the privacy of her cabin, Svetlana Gorin-Three watched the video, ground her teeth, and wished it were her.

She hasn’t even asked if I am okay. A video appears on screen as Caleb turns the laptop around. The image is dark hard to make out, but a figure wears a mask and when they begin to speak, I can tell they are using a voice modulator as they sound robotic and eerie. Sabastian stills not moving a muscle, paying attention to the footage.

However, I set aside the whole truth and simply respond, "I don't blame you. But you have to face the world, even when it sucks sometimes." "All the time," he corrects, tearing off the plastic from his frozen pastry and placing it in the toaster. I slide my bowl of chips into the microwave. "Flip your camera," I instruct. With a sigh, Blake rotates the camera, finally showing his face on the screen. His sharp jaw structure, messy brown hair, expressive amber eyes, and a Hobbit T-shirt over checkered boxers come into view. He was once hailed as a ‘classic beauty’ as a child, and that hasn't changed.

Blade was nearly two meters tall. His body was particularly robust and he had bulging muscles. The short-sleeved T-shirt that he wore accentuated his chest muscles, and they were big enough to rival an average woman's bosom. His bronze-colored arm muscles instilled fear in people, while his thick eyebrows and sharp eyes were brimming with might. When he arrived, he rubbed his bald head and asked Trevor in a hoarse voice, "Tell me, who do you want me to kill?"