Blade Of Northarch Novels & Stories

And now, I am surrounded with their kind and I don't know how to get out of here. I heard the man sigh. He probably saw the terror on my face. "Look. We're not bad but I am if I get angry. I'm trying to act nice here so I hope that you can cooperate." He held his hand to me. "I'm Larkan. The Commanding Officer of Blue Rose Pack." "C-Commanding Officer?" He rolled his eyes and whispered. "What a slowpoke." I bowed my head and stared at his callous hands. He called me a slowpoke..

The big drow yanked on the chain and swung it to the side, sending the blade towards Otheric. The young drow ducked and the blade merely shattered the chimney he was hugging. Without much effort, Nymgos spun the blade around again, keeping Minos and Rei at a length's distance. Anybody who dared to move, Nymgos would toss the blade against them, and pull it away, and spin it up again.

He swept up his fallen blade and came forward in a single, flowing motion that held no pause, no hesitation, no mercy. The edge caught the firelight as it rose, a silver arc that seemed to hang in the air for an impossible moment, and then fell. It opened Ragnar's throat from ear to ear, a single clean stroke that parted flesh and muscle and artery with the precision of long practice. The Northern Alpha's eyes went wide, pale with shock, his mouth working soundlessly as if trying to form some final curse. And then they emptied, the light draining from them like water from a shattered vessel.

Raphael replied, "I do not plan to annihilate or conquer a race or anyone except Roosevelt, what I will do instead is forge an alliance between me and each race, just like the pact I want to propose to you, wolf." I demanded, "What pact exactly." He smirked, "Annihilating Roosevelt together, and serving me." Mars snapped, "You expect us to serve you? Who do you think you are?" Raphael gripped his sword, he looked seconds from unsheathing it, his fingers locked the hilt, I could witness frozen tendrils of mist bleeding out. "You nearly forced me to draw frostbite" So Raphael’s sword is called Frostbite Blade. The blade is long, straight, pale blue like glacier ice. It doesn’t shine. It drinks

“Because of you … my mother died! Alice died!” “Your attempt to make me guilty for killing the weak is useless,” Terrowin said, keeping a blank expression. “The lives of the weak mean nothing to me.” Arth grunted as the white ribbons of alar surrounding the king shoved his sword that he had to reel back. He remembered what the Chief had told him before … that he could never win a fight with hatred. So he had to calm himself down. ‘That must be the king’s enchanted sword … Frostbane, the one Lucas have mentioned,’ Arth thought as the strings of alar compressed, forming into a long sword. It had twice the length of Blackwinter, having a white blade and a blue handle.

Princess Nora’s voice rang out across the battlements, clear and commanding. Fifty Northern longbowmen and Southern solar marksmen stepped up to the stone crenellations, drawing their heavy bows in unison. "Loose!" Nora commanded, swinging her rapier down in a sharp, decisive arc. A rain of silver-and-gold fletched arrows whistled through the night sky, descending upon the charging Eclipse vanguard like a falling constellation. The front rank of cultists crumpled as the purifying magic embedded in the arrowheads detonated upon impact, vaporizing the dark alchemy coursing through their veins.

With a dramatic, deliberate motion, he patted the new scabbard at his hip, proudly showing off the rune-engraved steel blade forged specifically by Althea. "Look at this," Lucas said deadpan, though he couldn't completely hide the proud glint in his crimson eyes. "An arcana flame-burst blade crafted by Althea. This will be far more useful at the border than a scrap of silk." Standing near the lead carriage, Althea folded her arms, letting a subtle, victorious smile grace her lips. "I told you girls, my true masterpiece hangs at his waist." Liora and Lyra immediately pouted, but Veyra's melodic laugh from the terrace above eased the morning's nervous tension.

For the first time since entering the temple, I felt hope. We stood together. Not because prophecy demanded it. But because we had become a family. Noctis watched us in silence. "You remind me of us." His gaze shifted toward Aurel. "Long ago." Aurel slowly drew a magnificent spear forged from crystal and moonlight. "The Spear of Dawn." Noctis summoned a blade of pure darkness. "The Blade of Oblivion." The air itself split as the two ancient weapons collided. Their impact unleashed a shockwave that shattered every remaining window in the temple.

Something had changed. Lucifer stood at the center of the barren expanse, the newly transformed Archai Sword resting firmly in his hand. The blade pulsed slowly, rhythmically, as if it possessed a heartbeat of its own. Crimson light flowed along its edge, yet within that red glow faint traces of celestial blue shimmered like distant stars buried beneath blood. It was no longer the weapon he once wielded. It was something else entirely. Something older and something far more dangerous.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.