Blade Of Northarch Novels & Stories

"Think about it, the name Kopis is ancient Greece for a knife and it's no coincidence that your name..." "... Is Blade." I finished for her as I began thinking about it. "If this is in anyway true, that means I'm cursed." "Yeah!" She said. "You are." My heart crashed as somehow, I had been hoping that this bloodlust thing would go away and I could try to have a normal life again.

Haris was taken aback when he saw Adrian's attack. He had a deep impression of the Inferno Purgatory. It was this move that told him that Adrian’s weapons were top-notch treasures. As someone from Blade's Reach, Haris had been around weapons since childhood, particularly swords. Adrian's Divine Frost Slayer Blade was the most enigmatic weapon he had ever encountered. It seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, making it extraordinarily mysterious. As for the Hellblade, he deduced from his clashes with Adrian that it was an exceptionally rare and valuable weapon.

Arth told the crowd as he stepped forward, looking up. As the people ran towards the evacuation site, Arth took a deep breath, then he extended one hand forward. “Frostcalibur …” he called. Blue veins flashed and glowed in his arms, traveling towards his hand. Strings of alar flowed out of his palm, dancing wildly in the air, compressing, forming into the legendary blade wielded by the kings of the north for thousands of years. After summoning the sword, Arth grabbed its hilt by both hands, then he made a stance. The beast cried out as it charged down in the air towards him, the screeching sound piercing his ears.

The air or what passed for it was heavy, vibrating with an energy older than time itself. The Fractured Nexus stretched endlessly before them, a chaotic web of floating fragments, twisted reality, and molten shadow. Every step Seraphine took felt like pushing against the universe itself. The Blade of Origin glowed brightly, a shard of silver light cutting through the oppressive darkness. Every pulse of the weapon resonated with the bond she shared with the immortal beside her, and together their energy flared, a living signal of defiance against the Architects’ scrutiny.

I whispered. The tattoo of the Aurora Sword in its dagger form slid up my leg and torso then down my arm. It materialized in my hand. I sliced my finger and dripped the blood on the page. The blood turned into a pair of pink wings with a black and white sword crisscrossed through them. "I'm glad we have a deal. We will send reinforcements to your territories edge to keep The Grange at bay." Archer stood. "It is nice to have met you... You know, I didn't get your name."

Samson said. "Tell me about it!" Alicia said staring at the delicate carvings made at the hilt[pommel] . "The Night blade is an intricate figure, it was discovered by the Medieval lords in some land called... You don't want to know. So right now, we just have to forge our own, the main blade still lay in the molten hill. So this one here is a carbon copy and we have installed different enchantments which I will tell you about the possible two the [Feather of truth] and [Heavy as a mountain]

It didn't have the obsidian skin of the scouts; it was wearing a suit of white bone-armor that mimicked the Vane's own runes. ​"The Earth-Alphas are more creative than the Queen anticipated," the Enforcer said, its voice a telepathic echo in Leo’s mind. "But a flying garden is still just a garden. I am Korth, the Queen's First Blade. And I have come to prune the dead weight." ​Korth lunged, his bone-sword igniting with a violet "Null-Frequency." ​Leo didn't dodge. He used the "Wild Code" to catch the blade with his bare hand, the amber runes on his palm sparking as they fought to neutralize the violet poison. The shockwave of the impact sent a tremor through the entire Labyrinth.

She reached out a hand—a pale, trembling hand—and touched the violet starlight of the obsidian blade. "You... you survived," the girl whispered, her voice sounding like the crinkle of dry parchment. The moment their fingers touched, the North began to "Unweave." It wasn't a deletion; it was an "Archive Search." Silas felt himself being pulled through the "Library of Souls"—a miles-wide chamber beneath the keep where all the "scripts" of the North were stored. He saw rows upon rows of glowing violet scrolls, each one representing an "Alternate Ending" that had almost happened.

I uncorked the entire bottle of potion I’d gotten from the witch and drank it all in one go. My chest flared with searing pain, and my wolf let out a howl of anguish. I severed every mind-link I had with them. Taking one last look at the villa that held all our memories, I turned, walked away, and never looked back. There was nothing worth staying for here. The dry, hot wind fed the flames until the roaring fire swallowed the entire villa whole. The house that once held our laughter and love was now reduced to ashes and ruin.

he instructed, his voice steady but firm. His team immediately complied, scanning the surgical site with careful precision. Every vessel had to be examined, every stitch secure. Even the slightest uncontrolled bleed could turn into a catastrophe. Marcus observed as his assistants moved efficiently, scanning for leaks, ensuring that no silent danger lurked beneath the surface. The seconds stretched, but soon, the verdict was in—no active bleeding. The bypass held perfectly. It was time to close.