Black Swords Demon Slayer Novels & Stories

It had baffled when he was just a mere mortal, but it floored him now as a demon. Her stubborn will to be both defiantly strong and soft in his hands had caused the sadistic side of Young to rear its head in Blood, pushing for an opportunity to turn her to clay. It never made any sense how she embodied love and light at all times, even when the harsh parts of herself were shown. The demon side of Young couldn’t help but want, damn near need, to crush that light out of her. In the same token, her display of blind trust in him was a gift he never wanted to take for granted so he was torn, now more than ever.

And in the middle, on a stone bridge that spanned the torrent, stood Leigh’s father. Lord Valerius was a tall, lean man like a hardened sapling. He wore no armor, only a worn leather jerkin over a grey tunic. His hair was more silver than black, tied back. He held no weapon. He stood alone on the bridge, facing Gryffen’s army, a solitary figure of calm authority.

He then pulled something in the air as a huge sword appeared in his hand. The blade was black and thick as it emits dark energy along with the demon’s arm. He swing his sword in the air and it was suddenly emit a purplish glint as the power was deeply concentrated into the blade. Hellion received a glare along with a harsh swing of the huge sword towards her. Attacking so soon! I just asked a question! She leapt back and stayed in mid air as she examined the demons. It looks like they want to battle her one by one. Fine that’s fair enough. She let out a small smile.

The swords are bronze, beneath their silver skins. I’m barely two feet from the line, and I give away one of them stepping back from Black’s slash. The howling around us becomes a gasp as his blade is motionless in the moment before he starts the backswing, and I reach out, and grab it with my bare hand.

Belief. I had given all three. The scars lived on my skin. My mind held the names of those who died in divine silence. My faith had fractured under what I had seen—but I stayed. And tonight, I would give more. I stepped onto the dais and lifted the ceremonial dagger—the Black Blade. Not forged metal, but obsidian fused with the bones of priestesses who had died mid-prophecy, minds split by divine madness. It could cut through flesh… and fate. I drew it across my palm again, deeper than before. My blood struck the altar and hissed.

I instantly backed away from him, but he follows his attack with another hit on my left arm and another one on my right arm. The pain was too excruciating that I can barely lift my arms to wield the sword. He was about to give me a stab in my head using his right claw, but I was fortunate to duck low and counter-attack him by stabbing his thigh. That was the first injury he had from the multiple attempts we did. My sword was stuck in his deep in his thigh, and I was too weak to pull it out from him. He took my sword out from his thigh and point it at me. His thigh heals fast and was restored to normal as if nothing had happened to him. Then, something unexpected happened. The part where I st

The chamber erupted into a maelstrom of shadows and steel as Damitri charged, his greatsword arcing through the fetid air like a comet's tail. The blade hummed with stolen power, aimed straight for the devil's heart—or whatever blackened core pulsed beneath that obsidian hide. But the devil moved with liquid grace, a blur of leathery wings and curling horns, sidestepping the strike as if swatting a gnat. The sword bit deep into the throne instead, splintering ancient wood with a resonant crack that echoed like fracturing bones. Splinters flew, one grazing Damitri's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood that sizzled on contact with the air.

The Demon-Slayer Sword was a Chaotic Treasure from the depths of the Dark World. This sword was pitch-black in color, and mysterious Dark Characters were engraved on the sword. The tip of the sword was slightly vent, and the blade radiated a chilling gleam that would make one’s blood run cold. Looking at the Demon-Slayer Sword, Thea walked toward the sword. Powerful energy materialized in her palm, which enveloped the sword. Through her immense power, she forcibly took the sword away.

Nathan then instantly flipped over the air and stands at Zitrey’s side. Slayer smirked from the unexpected hit he receives. He tardily holds his long blade katana while tapping it on his shoulder. The dull part was colored in black while the sharp one was in shiny silver, and in between, they were a dark purple in a zigzag pattern. The weapon was scary enough to make goosebumps, it seems possessed by the shadow of death. Slayer then uttered while staring intently to Nathan, “I will play with you lad. You seem fun.” he then looked at his remaining troupe, “There are still few people upstairs, so babies, kill the rest~”

The intense pressure was suffocating them. Subsequently, they saw Lucas hoisting the Dragon Slaying Saber into the air; the saber was giving off a demonic, cold glint. Additionally, the five-clawed dragon carved on the saber’s blade made those who saw it feel as though they were on the 18th level of hell. Before the Undead Skeletal Heavy Swordsmen could recover, Lucas swung the Dragon Slaying Saber downward. An icy beam shot out, following by a slash that appeared to be a dragon!