Wrist Blades Novels & Stories

Alexander had a tough grip that John could not pull back from, even if he tried. The blade of Zoro's sword was pinched easily between Alexander's fingers. Alexander lightly flicked his wrists in both hands. Crack! Clang! John's right wrist and Zoro's sword let out a loud crack at the same time. John's wrist was crushed on the spot. Bones pierced through his flesh and protruded out of his skin. Zoro's right hand was equally terrible. His wrist had been twisted and crushed as well. It was an explosion of blood and flesh.

I took one of my blades and stabbed him on his right shoulder. Let me let you in on a little secret, my blades are silver and I soaked them with wolfsbane making it harder to heal. “You f*cking b*tch! What did you–” I laughed, cutting him off. I’m sure I sounded like a deranged psycho. He lounged trying to punch me with both arms swinging. Blocking each one I kicked him in the stomach grabbing a hold of his left arm and twisting it. I didn’t let go. He was seething and foaming at the mouth, I b*tched slapped him with my right hand. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t permit you to.” I whispered-yelled. “F*ck you!” he yelled.

He snatched at her hand, drawing the blood vigorously from her wrist. She didn't flinch. She let him have a fill of her power. There's more where it came from, I suppose. Panting hard, he backed away. "The blades are still in my body." "I know, that was the anaesthetic. It'll reduced the pain by say fifty percent." "What pain?"

The man quickly grabs my wrist immobilizing it so I drop the blade swiftly, catching it with my non-dominant hand instead before plunging it into the man's chest and dragging it down across his stomach, he lets go of my hand as his body starts to fall apart. That's when another man charges at me, this time two more following quickly after him, I grab his hand turning it around causing a cracking sound to resonate around the room showing his now broken wrist before I throw him back at one of the men causing them both to fall down onto the ground. The other man was still running over at me and I spun, slashing my blade across his midsection causing him to gasp his hands moving to stop the blee

Garrett told me, his massive hand spreading in my direction. The others all followed suit. Warriors who had adopted me into their family, soldiers who had sworn to protect me, all of them offering their trust without understanding what they were getting themselves into. I drew out a small blade from around my waist, one of the only bladed things werewolves used for practical rather than combat purposes. The metal glinted silver in the fading light, and I could have sworn I felt it vibrate with something in my blood. "This might hurt," I warned, then cut the blade across my palm quickly.

Tyson took out his blade from the sheath on his waist and flung it at Harvey. Whoosh! Harvey caught the blade easily and swung it in a ferocious attack. As he did so, a silver crescent flashed. “Aaaaaah—!” The Wards’ authorities all dropped their weapons as a sharp pain attacked their wrists almost immediately. They fell back, screaming and wailing in agony. Before the remaining others could retaliate, Harvey swung his blade sideways. In an instant, all of the so-called professionals’ throats were slit and bled crimson. They collapsed to the ground, paralyzed.

This allowed marksmen to fire their weapons as accurately as they could in real life without depending on aim assist and other guided aids, which provides a remarkable advantage in certain times. Another route was to embed weapons in the wrists. Usually smaller and less powerful than handheld weapons, it kept the arms free to wield weapons while simultaneously offering additional firepower without detrimentally affecting weight and carrying capacity all that much. However, such weapons systems needed to be fed energy or other resources from the torso. Accommodating these needs weakened the arms internally and created more weak points. The wrist-mounted weapons also unbalanced the arms and ma

"Fine. Don't cry when you get hurt." He didn't even wait. Jax lunged forward, bringing his wooden blade down in a brutal overhead strike. The wind literally whistled around the wood. I braced my feet and brought my blade up, blocking the blow. The impact vibrated violently up my arms, rattling the bones in my wrists.

I couldn't help myself from fearing the look in his eyes. I didn't dare to run around anymore and started pretending to be obedient before him. I would act like a maniac—I was sometimes compliant and sometimes hysterical. Half a month passed before I picked up some clues to indicate something was wrong. I was hanging the clothes out to dry on the balcony when I noticed a sharp blade hidden underneath the rusty railing. My memories pulled me back to that horrific night and the 160 stab wounds Liam had given me. They sucked all the energy out of me, but I tried to keep calm. Then, I found in his pocket two train tickets to Wenland and a receipt for some condoms.