All Black Necrosword Novels & Stories

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.

'Asmodeus says and right now, I just feel like I should just punch him in the face repeatedly until his nose starts to bleed. 'Well news flash, your presence and support is not needed at all so you can just go ahead and fuck off right now, go back to whichever shit-hole you decided to climb out from.' I say all in a slow tone, making sure to emphasize on every word that comes out of my mouth. 'Oh, I never knew those luscious lips could speak all these dirty things. I am sure they are pretty good at performing some dirty stuffs too and I would be glad to be able to ex.....' Asmodeus says lustfully and without waiting for him to even complete his words, Abbadon charges at him angrily.

His sword extended to 30 thousand miles with only a single stroke, and its cold glint could be seen throughout 19 states. The Rank 7 Skeletal Lady employed her Clean Sweep and Big Clean Sweep skills. Consequently, numerous Undead Skeletal Heavy Swordsmans were swallowed into the black orb in her palm. With such a lineup, the Undead Skeletal Heavy Swordsmen did not stand a chance. "Argh!" Shrieks and screeches were heard, and the scene was unbearable to witness. Lucas' stunning face remained composed as though he was only watching something trivial. At that moment, the Rank 9 Undead Skeletal Heavy Swordsman finally noticed the color of Biggy, White Doll, and Scarlet’s eyes.

That melody, as the blind old man stated at the outset, was a dirge, which was played to the dead. The little boy slammed the one-meter-long broken sword against the black-clad man. A ten-meter-long sword glow shot toward the black-clad man all of a sudden. The man in black fought through the excruciating pain in his chest and waved his sword to block the blade glow. His heart was pounding wildly as he took several steps back in a row. “No wonder I could take out that blind old man so easily! Boy, you are the Nebulous Swordsman!” The little boy’s expression became increasingly hideous. In the eyes of the man in black, his appearance had changed several times in a matter of seconds. He couldn

He would not let the blade lay around flimsily in his store and risk it getting stolen. I personally would have stolen it. “It is no news that he runs a black market trade of enchanted weapons. He could display it. Despite rejecting us, he is a greedy bastard. He just has his reasons for refusing us. I’m sure he’d be glad to rid himself of such weapon that’s giving him sleepless nights. It would be a win to hand it over to someone who had no idea what it is” He had a point. It might not work but it was worth the try.

A crest gleamed on his chest plate: the Moonveil Citadel emblem, a silver wolf's head wreathed in thorns, symbol of an ancient order long whispered in legends. In his grip, he wielded a sword that sang of forgotten forges—a massive greatsword with a blade as long as a man's arm, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like veins of starlight. The hilt wrapped in blackened leather, guarded by a crossbar shaped like crossed fangs, it hummed with arcane power, cleaving through monster hides as if they were parchment. Each swing arced with devastating force, severing limbs and heads in sprays of dark ichor, the warrior pivoting seamlessly, boots sinking into the mire without falter. He fought alon

Wait, he called that man Cassian… this is the fucking emperor. I grow a bit weary of the situation, and Danika’s senses go on high alert, as I take in as much about their group as I can; I see no women, only men holding their swords up, pointed directly at us. I look closer at the weapons; they are solid obsidian black from the hilt to the tip of the blade, the very long blade. “Shit, Danika, I think those are the void weapons Adelaide talked about.” “I think so too. Be careful Aurora, I sense another witch nearby,” she warns me.

He was sure he had seriously wounded Adrian earlier, yet Adrian now appeared stronger than ever. Boom! The force shattered everything in its wake. The void trembled as Adrian wielded the Soul Devouring Sword, slashing through the sky with a single stroke. Crack! Andy’s eyes widened in disbelief. His own sword had been snapped in half by Adrian’s strike—cleanly severed without any resistance. He couldn’t believe it. His sword, forged from black iron, had been broken like this. It was shocking beyond words. “Impossible!” he wailed. Andy’s weapon, crafted from precious black iron, had been shattered completely. The sight was truly horrifying.

Nicholas groaned again. I reached the blade. Snatched it. And everything went black.

But as he turned to go, something caught his eye. A small, silver pendant lay on the ground near one of the bodies, glinting faintly in the dim light. It was simple, unadorned, but something about it drew Lucifer’s attention. He knelt down, picking it up between his fingers, and examined it closely. There was an inscription on the back, worn but still legible: *Nosce Hostem*—*Know Your Enemy*. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he turned the pendant over in his hand. Whoever these men were, they were part of something bigger, something dangerous. And this was their calling card—a warning, perhaps, or a challenge.