Ash Of War: Sacred Blade Novels & Stories

It looked dangerous… sacred… and strangely familiar. “The Blade of Tenebris,” I murmured, recalling the words I’d once tried so hard to forget. “It cuts not flesh, but spirit. A single strike leaves enemies hollow, their will severed. It was quenched in the Void during the First Apex War. Every wielder leaves behind a fragment of their soul.”

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.

"That's not true." "Isn't it?" Emotion rose too quickly beneath my composure. "Every prayer feels like pressure to lose you. Every sermon sounds like sacrifice disguised as holiness. And every time I see you at that altar, I feel like I'm watching something take pieces of you while calling it devotion." Heavy, painful silence followed, because this conversation had crossed into dangerous territory now, not romantic danger, but spiritual. When Matteo finally spoke again, his voice sounded rougher. "You think I don't struggle with this too?"

- He mentioned the first one. (Rare 'Sacred Gear'...) - The thoughts of Azazel were those, not special but also not normal. "Mishima Ken, human, age 18, son of normal humans, Sacred Gear 'Green Dragon Crescent Blade'. " Azazel then remembered that Sacred Gear. - (Right... A replica of the War-Lord's green blade. More common than the one before...)

His vision was tunneling, the tactical lights of the humans becoming blurred smears of white and red. "He's a cockroach," the lead soldier spat, stepping forward to kick the iron sword out of Ash’s hand. The blade clattered across the stone, sliding toward the abyss. "Finish him. Then bag the girl." Ash looked up, his breath coming in wet, ragged gasps. He saw the muzzle of the rifle. He saw the finger on the trigger. He felt Rhea’s scream behind him, a sound of pure, unadulterated soul-shattering grief. He closed his eyes, not in fear, but in a final, quiet prayer that she would find a way to live without him.

One gold. Every person on the battlefield stared in disbelief. Even Seraphine's eyes widened. "Impossible..." Aster whispered. "The Twin Blades." Elyan slowly smiled. "So the prophecy was incomplete." The red-eyed creature staggered backward. Fear finally appeared in its burning crimson eyes. "No... It cannot be." Seraphine looked at Kael and Rhydian with quiet pride. "It is time." Kael gripped the silver blade. Rhydian raised the golden one. The two swords began to resonate, filling the battlefield with blinding light.

They were wolves whose souls had been completely removed, replaced by the shadows of the Blighted One. Kaelen stood up, his white eyes burning with a lethal fire. He picked up his glass blade, the obsidian smoke beginning to swirl around the edges once more. "Leo! Mara! To the Father of Roots!" I screamed, struggling to my feet. The Sovereign’s Gambit had been played. The man had been restored, but the war had only just truly begun. As the first wave of the Hollowed lunged into the clearing, I felt the Father of Roots beneath my feet shudder. The obsidian glass shattered completely, and the tree began to glow with a brilliant, golden light.

He crashes into another soldier and both slam into a crate. I blink. Nyxara’s expression hasn’t changed. But I know. She did that. Without touching him. Without moving. Without even looking directly at him. My wolf watches her carefully. “You keep doing that.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Terrible liar.” “You’ve said that.” Another hunter raises his weapon. His flashlight flickers. Then dies. Then another. Then another. Within seconds the warehouse sinks back into darkness. Only moonlight remains. Nyxara finally looks up at me.

⸻ Leonardo whispered, “Brother…” ⸻ Aurelius nodded slowly. “He believed memory should belong to everyone.” “I believed it should belong to no one.” “Our disagreement became a war.” ⸻ The Archive suddenly responded. Alessio’s silver eye flashed. Ancient memories flooded his mind. Two brothers. Standing beneath the same cathedral. One carrying the Oath Blade. The other… Holding a crimson sword identical to Damien’s. Thousands of soldiers lying dead between them. The First War. ⸻ The vision ended.

Ash’s POV The roar of the clubhouse hit me before I even turned off my engine. Laughter, shouts and the sound of bottles clinking rent the air and for a moment, I wonder how they could easily fall back into their normal lives less than twelve hours after an attack. It was chaos the way I remembered it, but somehow louder and more… non challant. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and sweat. A few brothers cheered when they saw me, others nodded, their eyes sharp, reading me like they weren’t sure what version of Ash had come back.