Backhand Blade Ash Of War Novels & Stories

Now I deeply regretted not practicing those battle techniques with my father during his training sessions with our group, wishing I had been more prepared. I swiftly moved behind a thick tree, its rough bark providing cover, and I gripped a small, curved blade tightly in my hand. It was one of the basic weapons we were issued before entering the treacherous woods of abyss, designed for close combat and survival. When I hear an increasingly loud noise echoing through the forest, I swiftly position myself to launch a surprise attack on the enemy. As the footsteps get closer, I jump out of my hiding spot and attack the beast. I gasp in shock as Ashton quickly seizes the gleaming, silver blade,

Pine needles shifted overhead like a whisper of silk. Silas rose slowly, still half-crouched, his eyes glinting amber in the fading light. “Stay close,” he murmured to Ava. “Don’t draw the dagger unless you have to.” Mara eased an arrow from her quiver and nocked it in one smooth motion. “Where is it?” “Downwind.” Silas’s nostrils flared. “Ash. Blood. Not a wolf, not exactly.” Lyra’s hand went to the knife at her belt. “He’s sent one of them.”

They didn’t care anymore. They didn’t even need to hide. Ashley’s hand moved slowly, fingers grazing down the slit of her dress. When it came back up, it carried a glint. A small silver blade. My breath caught in my throat. "You think you belong here," she whispered. "You think you’ve won. But you’re just a moment. A stain. And stains get washed off." I tried to speak. Tried to call out. But no words came. She raised the blade.

' They hissed in unison, their slippery voices circling my head and running down my skin in cold waves. I pulled out a small pocket knife from the pouch in my leggings. Asher had given this to me when I told him of my plan, and assured me there was no silver within the blade. It was small and unassuming, and would do little damage if I actually stabbed someone with it. I flicked it open and watched what little sunlight was left catch the bright metal of the blade. The point was deviously sharp, begging to break through skin.

His breathing got heavier in an instant and he turned around to face Amelia. I gasped the moment I saw the knife's leather handle. It was one of the silver knives Enzo and the rest of the crew had been making. I peeked my head from behind Kai and saw Asher writhing on the floor, his face contorted in pain as he hovered a trembling hand over the knife buried in his shoulder. His face was already pale enough as it is and I didn't know that it was possible that he could look whiter than that. My heart throbbed at the sight.

She stood there, oblivious of the danger that lurked behind her as she stood forward with her hands pressed against her chest while the breeze blew against her hair softly. And this person was closer, his left hand reaching for her. This close, when I picked up a small sized stone and sent it flying in the air and as his hands were an inch away from hers, the stone hit him at the back of his head. Selene turned in fear but I had already cornered the man, dressed in black overall and was already fighting sovereignty as he was not backing down. This person, head bald, waved his knife at me. It was not the regular kitchen knife, this one, had a slant shape on the edge and was very sharp.

The flames around us shrieked, folding inward until they devoured her whole. I gasped and staggered as the memory shattered, the battlefield slamming back into my bones. Smoke filled my lungs, screams split the air, and Damian’s roar carried above them all, raw and desperate. I blinked, tears stinging my eyes from the vision, only to see Kayden’s blade raised high over him, silver steel poised to strike. The shard surged within me, demanding I act, demanding I choose as Ashara had.

Once Asherah had made up her mind, she sprung into action. Her eyes flashed brightly as the winds gathered around her, morphing into several wind blades that were as long as a door yet as thin as a hair strand. At a rough estimate, there were at least twenty of these wind blades behind Asherah! The wind hummed strongly as the wind blades swiftly consolidated themselves. “Blood Arts: Infusion”

Whispered voices filled the air, faint and echoing, too strange to understand but enough to send chills down my spine. Ash lifted his hand. His nails darkened, lengthened, curved—like demonic blades born from darkness itself. “Don’t move,” he ordered quietly. His hand took mine. He didn’t rush it, like this moment had to be felt fully. His fingers were cold but steady as he opened my palm and gently pressed it down on the glowing symbol beneath us. With a quick, sharp motion, his demonic nail sliced my skin. The sting spread immediately, but somehow it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. My blood trickled out slow, warm and red, dripping onto the floor before Ash bent down.

I had my knives out in no time and once he came in range, I plunged them deep into his temples from both sides. The blood spluttered out like a natural geyser and tainted my hands and the ground in its crimson shade while I watched his body heap. The other two attacked simultaneously but Asher had already seen them. He leapt through the air and snatched both of them by their heads; twisting them, he put them out of their misery with a loud growl resounding in his hairy chest. Blowing my beastly mate a flying kiss, I returned to healing my warriors. The next growl he let out seemed like a needy whimper.