Azrael's Blade Novels & Stories

Wrapped in silk were crescent-shaped blades with jeweled handles, the same exquisite style, rubies glowing like fire. “Well, hold it firmly in your hand,” Aziz instructed. I gripped one. The rubies pulsed with red light, the blade burning hot in my palm. “What is this? What does it do?” I gasped. “It is reacting to your presence,” Aziz said. “These hellblades slay demons, forcing my true form out. Behren used them to banish us during Constantinople’s fall. My real body is not of this world, and humans cannot perceive it. Since you are used to me as a cat, I became this larger version. I am much more…mighty in person”

Only the sudden weight of steel sliding through flesh and bone, exactly where the mark burned brightest. The Luna mark broke as the blade pierced it. It was not a sound anyone could hear, but something you felt through the bond—like ice cracking beneath unbearable pressure. Kaelor’s pain tore through me so violently I almost missed my own. His shout spread across the battlefield, raw and broken, and every wolf collapsed where they stood. The light around my body shattered. The power drained from me, sinking into the earth, into the sky, into nothing. I looked down. The blade had gone straight through the mark.

Damon's eyebrows furrowed when he saw Rafael sitting on the couch in the living room, silent but lethal, eyes on something like an eagle and aura like a tiger who is ready to attack. Mira looked at the man shocked when she saw blood around him. There was a woman kneeling in front of him, shaking and trembling in horror. Mira was horrified when she noticed that her fingers were missing. It was like she wanted to cry but she was not allowed to, she was biting on her lips so hard that her lips were bleeding. Rafael was looking at her like an eagle. Waiting for her to make a sound and then break the hell on her. The woman tried her best to stop the cry but she was in agony as he had chopped her

Ruby questioned pointing at the purple bladed black scythe displayed on the wall over the fireplace. "Well, that's Azrael, slayer of immortals. It can kill even gods, demons, and the highly phantasmal Dragons. It's an heirloom one of my ancestors collected from a gorgon. No one wielded it because they were too afraid of its power. It can strike fear in everyone by its mere presence as people tend to be when facing death. Once an entity is slain by its blade their existence will vanish completely. It also destroys both the body and the soul, no heaven or hell just nothing. It is one of the sharpest blades in all of the Realm of Twilight along with Excalibur." Adrian explained after putting do

Azrael grew a blade from it in a split second. At first a fine mist rose from the palm of his hand and formed the rough outlines before the liquid became hard and sharp like no earthly material. Nothing withstood this weapon. He was the perfect weapon. The dagger blade flickered with an uncanny life of its own and fine waves ran along the surface. Somehow logical that people would mistake him for the Archangel Michael with his flaming sword. Only one thing was bothering it: it wasn't him, not at all.

"His... His Highness?" Hearing the scream of Wu Daozun, the faces of more than a thousand people changed. For a moment, countless people opened their mouths in silence. Death, this code name was almost a taboo existence. Azrael, the most powerful blade of Tianfu Country in history, walked on the international stage with the M.Y. bed, and stirred up a bloody storm wherever he went. This Azrael often wandered on the edge of the rain of bullets, killing enemies like numbness, and his hands were covered with blood.

Azrael laughed like a maniac as he pulled out his knife from his pocket and crouched above her. “I love you like this.” He mumbled with something sinister glistening in his eyes. Death was inevitable, she knew and Azrael was just the synonym for that. She waited and waited for him to stab her. This misery was too much now. He tsked and pressed the knife to her sternum. The sharpness of the knife pressed and she hissed. He pushed the knife deeper drawing out blood. She had lost her voice now. Azrael admiringly watched as the knife glided down her chest to her navel. The blood seeped like a waterfall. Grace cried and cried till her throat was sore. The pain made her doze off into the darkness.

The name sits heavy in my mouth. I do not rush it. “You said the curse wasn’t the final weapon,” she says. “You said it was a fracture point.” “Yes.” “So this is the blade?” “No,” I say softly. “This is the pressure.” I close my eyes. And I speak it. “Azrael.” The warehouse goes silent. The fire does not flicker. It bends inward. Lyra stumbles back a step. “What was that?” “Listen.” The sound is low at first. Not a voice. More like a hum under concrete. Like something deep underground just shifted.

“She is my everything. And if the world has to die so she can live, then it will.” Seren’s voice drifts through the cell, soft and distant. “The monster of shadow kneels only to flame. But when flame forgets itself… shadow becomes the blade.” I slam both hands into the bars. “They’re breaking her,” I rasp. “And I can’t reach her.” The air shifts. I feel it before I see him. Azrael steps out of nothing just beyond the cell, leaning casually against the wall like he hasn’t just crossed wards meant to keep gods out.

The smoke from the light beam cleared, and for a heartbeat, I thought it was over But then, a low, guttural growl rose from the shadows of the darkened cave. Azrael crawled out of the crater my light had made. His skin was charred and peeling, and one of his massive wings hung limp and broken at his side, but his eyes were glowing with a terrifying, murderous purple flame. He wasn't dead. If anything, the pain had made him faster and more dangerous.