Blade Of Northarch の小説・ストーリー

When Jacket was providing cover for him, Jim had already started forming a mystic technique, channeling all his spiritual power into the blade. In a moment, Jim's sword underwent a bizarre transformation. The entire long blade was now fiery red, flames engulfing it. The flames resembled lava, continuously dripping from the blade like flowing blood. Jim's momentum drastically changed; he looked like a Shura returned from hell. He stared fixedly at Sebastian, the flames on the blade reflecting in his pupils. For a moment, he truly seemed like a Shura returned from the abyss. "I'll take your life, in memory of my brother!"

Night Blade got on the fourth one along with Night Star, Night Swing, Night Roller and two of his minions from the shadow guards who went by the names A3 and C6. “Let’s surround the place from all four sides.” Chris ordered through his headset once they were airborne. “Big brother, you take the north end, Lorenzo, I will leave the south end to you.” “I will take the east end and leave the west end to Night Blade.” “I want all the bastards that dared, alive.” Chris ordered viciously although he was begging inwardly ‘Wife, please hold on... I will find you.” A few hours earlier-

Althea began her chant, and the surrounding area darkened as a small tornado formed between me and Blade, but it was still possible for us to see Althea. She nodded her head to Blade, and he drank the potion while staring at me. He grimaced for a while, and I would have laughed if this was nothing serious, as he might have found drinking my blood repulsive. "Nubescant omnes videntes eum in nomine tuo, spiritus fortes." Althea’s chant became louder as her hair was being blown away by the tornado that was rising and covering Blade’s whole body completely. Despite the authority and firmness in her voice, Althea’s eyes were betraying her. She looked worried as her eyes focused on the tornado tha

I'm longing for her touch, wondering how she smell and how she looks likes. My wolf growled at me, telling me to follow my instincts and don't listen to my Beta. "Shut up, Baron. You don't have to tell me." Going out in the human world is dangerous for us Alexander's. When our father was punished and dethroned in Arcadia, he settled here in mortal world but due to his anger and resentment, he became ruthless and killed millions of innocent people. Blood shed and injustice prevailed. He's like a plague that swept lives every year.

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 studied the glowing inscriptions without daring to touch the weapon. “I have spent centuries collecting fragments of the First Script,” he said. “Most of it was destroyed long before the Night Empire was founded, yet the symbols appearing on this blade are identical to those preserved in the oldest ruins. If they have awakened now, then the sword has recognized something it has been waiting for.” Lucien looked at the old scholar. “What has it recognized?” Before Orion could answer, Nyx spoke quietly. “It recognized both of us.” The words drew every eye toward her.

Marcus roared, swinging his own from his back and positioning himself between the archers and the treaty bearer. The attackers burst from the treeline on both sides of the ravine, eight of them, cloaked in gray and brown that blended with the snow and bark. They moved on foot, too fast for horses in this terrain, their blades already drawn. Northern blades, Natasha noted. Curved steel in the pattern of the mountain forges. But no pack markings. No colors. No sigils. Mercenaries. Or wolves who didn't want to be identified.

The sword hummed, a radiant white glow seeping from its hilt into the earth. The grass blades immediately shifted—aligning with the flow of divine energy, all pointing in one unified direction. A glowing line of white light extended out from the blade like a divine compass. “That way,” Scott said, standing up. Faith blinked. “You sure?” Scott gave a confident nod. “Years of scouts and orienteering—plus a flaming angel sword? Yeah, I’m sure.” He pointed to the weather vane atop the mansion’s spire. Despite the unnatural wind, the metal pointer spun into place—true north aligning with the same direction as the sword’s light.

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