Backhand Blade Build Novels & Stories

And if anyone still refused to let go and tried to pursue what wasn’t theirs—he wouldn’t show mercy next time. Stellar finally let out a breath of relief. It felt like a major source of unease had been lifted from her chest. "Come on, let’s head back." In the days that followed, she threw herself back into the technical development work. With the intel Stephen had gathered for her, she successfully resolved the blade cracking issue and quickly moved on to the next stage of fabrication. However, since the single-crystal blade manufacturing process had long relied on foreign imports, the domestic techniques were still underdeveloped.

The blade catches my forearm instead of my back, but it still burns, the silver edge, biting deep, I grab the man’s wrist before he can pull away, twisting and snapping it cleanly as he drops I straighten, breath steady, six down, six still moving Caden is to my left, handling two at once, the way he always fights, no wasted motion, while the others push the flank back toward the tree line We’re winning, we’re about to be... The pain hits before the sound ever does. Not from the front, or from the men still standing. From behind. Something cold and exact drives between my ribs on the left, angled upward. I look down. The hilt of a blade, silver, my own pack’s design.

I reached for the next blade and glanced sideways without meaning to. He was at the far end of the bench reassembling something — a mechanism I did not recognise, compact and precise, his hands moving through the steps the way hands move when they have done something ten thousand times. He was in a dark long sleeve, pushed up at the forearms. The tribal tattoos disappeared under the fabric and reappeared at his wrists. He did not look up. I looked back at my blade. My face felt warm and I told it to stop. Another thirty minutes. The training weapons pile was nearly done. I had moved onto the combat blades now, heavier, requiring more pressure on the whetstone. My arms were starting to feel i

Pressing. Guiding. Drawing out what was already there. The metal shifted. Subtly at first. Then more clearly. Length extending—not from nothing— But from redistribution. From balance. From intention. I exhaled slowly as the shape corrected beneath my hands. Not bigger. Not added. Just… right. I opened my eyes. The blade sat differently now. Balanced. Whole. I turned it slightly, testing the weight. Better. Bjorn took it from me. Turned it once.

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

I'm drawn back to Nadia as she holds a blade in her hands, a side dagger with a blackened leather handle and some etching done in the blade. This is perfect." She turns to the blacksmith. "Is there an area in the back or something where I can test it out? Just weight wise and handling." The blacksmith nods and leads her and I into his training room in the back. "Nadia, you know how to use that?" I ask and she nods. "Did I forget to tell you?" Tell me what?" I question intently and she chuckles. "I guessI did." She pauses and tosses the blade in the air and I low key panic but she then backflips, catching the blade artfully before landing in a warrior stance close to the ground. It's then it

I watched it come, a high-velocity throw. That big bastard has some powers behind him, I leaned back ever so slightly and let it sail past me and stick into the tree behind me. I pulled out from the tree and looked back at him. He had a smirk on his face. "Tut" "tut" I thought, as I tested the weight of the blade, well balanced. "Good I won't have to use one of mine"