Bg3 Blade Of The First Blood นิยาย & เรื่องราว

They were just motions I need to execute, they turned me into this and they will receive the reward of their actions. I walked to the second individual who I stared down, tears was in his eyes as he silently bag me, for what I don’t know. Instant relief, mercy…I will grant him none of those things. I sliced my sword across his throat and move to the third as he fell face ward on the ground where he continued to choke on his blood. I continued that way until I get to the chief, to him, I spoke. “You see, I promised you this will happen.” “You did, but you might be one of them now but remember, the hunt will continue. We will continue to die. That tradition will never die until Dar die.”

She knew Draven would try to hinder her journey, so she was ready for it. As the first wave of birds dived toward her, she swiftly drew her blade and struck with precision. The silver gleamed as it sliced through the air, meeting its mark with deadly accuracy. Each strike was fluid and controlled, her movements were a practiced dance of survival. The enchanted blade cut through the dark magic infusing the birds, causing them to burst into clouds of black smoke as they perished.

He says, and stands in front of us. Gaza holds out a blade. “Hold out your hands.” Lysandra and I extend our palms. My wolf claws at my mind, he disagrees. But I push him away. This is the only way. There is no other choice. His silver eyes access us, looking for confirmation that we know what this is, and that we are sure of it. When he finds what he’s looking for, he presses the blade into our palms. Lysandra winces. But I don’t feel it. Nothing can hurt me again. The snapping of the mate bond was enough pain to last a lifetime.

He stood back up and backed up, trying to give a bit of distance between him and them. I prayed to the moon goddess as I continued to watch with a scared heart and a tear-stained face. "Tyrell, look out, behind you!" I yelled as I noticed the hunter at his back with a blade behind him. Luckily, Tyrell heard me, spinning around and catching the blade between his palms, breaking the hunter's fingers. The blade was released into his hand before he drove it into the hunter's heart.

I shouted. I stepped out from behind Rowan. The obsidian blade in my hand felt different now. It wasn't just a heavy piece of stone. It was light, almost weightless, and it thrummed with the soft, white light of the girl I had seen in the warehouse. It was the **Blade of the Unsaid**. Every word I had swallowed, every dream I had put aside for the sake of survival, every "I love you" that had been lost in the roar of battle—it was all there, feeding the light. Vane pivoted, his liquid form spinning like a drill. He ignored Rowan and came for me. He was fast—too fast for a human to track. He was a blur of silver and shadow.

His eyes widened just as I twisted in the air. The blade drove down, clean and brutal as it punched through bone with a sickening crack and buried itself deep in his skull. Momentum carried us both to the ground. I landed in a crouch as his body collapsed beneath me, staff still embedded. Silence fell as Brogan’s blood soaked hungrily into the dry dirt of the badlands. I rose slowly, one boot planting against Brogan’s shoulder as I ripped the staff free with a sharp twist. The metallic ring of it locking back into place echoed in the stillness.

Breed kept choking his brother and he could see the life go out of his eyes. Blade dropped his hands to the dirt as he gave up. Breed then froze as he stared down at Blade. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he let go and unsteadily stood up as he stumbled back. Blade’s body looked still. A scream came for the clubhouse. Breed slowly looked over to see the windows open and Babe fighting off his men. He swiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at his brother. “Fuck!” He stepped back over to his brother and looked down.

The memories of the borderlands, the hunts, the bloodshed—they all blurred into the background. Only the blade remained. Steel. Control. Focus. He spun the sword once and brought it down in a clean strike that would have split a skull from crown to jaw. The sound echoed softly across the courtyard. Then— “You train early.” The voice came from behind him. Deep. Smooth. Ancient. Adrian froze instantly. His instincts reacted before his thoughts did. He turned and dropped to one knee. “My king.” King Vaelreth stood near the entrance of the courtyard, his dark cloak stirring slightly in the cold morning wind.