Blade The Blood God Novels & Stories

The blade gleamed with a brilliant silver light, its edge shimmering with a promise of sharpness. The blood sword! I exclaimed internally, astonished by the fact that I had successfully conjured the legendary weapon known to be wielded by a valiant warrior from Cairos—a neighboring nation to Springgan. Apollo had shared stories about it, expressing his dream to create such a weapon one day. Empowered by the gauntlet, I held the blood sword with ease. The blade's edge gleamed, a testament to its lethal potential. Just as the icy shield surrounding me shattered, the dominus seized the opportunity to consume me. Its jaws opened wide as it lunged towards me. Reacting swiftly, I positioned the sw

After returning to his allotted guest house, Blade settles his mate on his bed and then at the guidance of his Cheetah, Luther, he returns to the dungeons. He stops in front of another cell and observes the six werewolf rogues within. He smirks as he says, “Who wants to get out of here?” One rogue goes to step forward but is pulled back by another as he growls, “What’s the catch?” “Just a small donation of your blood.” The rogue that spoke steps closer a smirk tugging at his thin lips,

I reached for the Ancient Mercy. I took the Sovereign-Fang—the weapon that had grown from the Hunt, the Soul, and the Design—and I didn't strike the Shroud-Lord. I Struck the Sarcophagus. I drove the blade of red-gold sinew into the petrified light of the goddess’s grave. I didn't try to save myself; I Poured my Entirety into the Void. "I AM THE BLOOD FOR THE BROKEN GODDESS!" I roared, the White Light of the Origin erupting from my spirit not as a sun, but as a Tidal Wave of Raw, Un-Optimized Re-Animation.

He asked her with a look of astonishment on his face. “Yes.” She replied. “I want you to sign it. I don’t trust you, Draven.” She told him and moved back. “And you think I will succumb to a mere human?” he asked her with a smile. “Let’s just say I don’t want to take any chances.” She simply said to him and gave a warm smile, a smile filled with deception and murderous intent. With an elongated finger, he dug into his palm and watched as blood seeped from it. Then he allowed the few drops of blood to fall on the paper, creating a beautiful red pattern, before his wound healed at a very fast pace.

With my trembling hands, I grabbed the handle of the door, and it had just opened when Bell's scream froze us. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned back only to see her pale face with widened eyes. She covered her mouth with her hands and panicked. We followed her gaze and stared at the sink. The sight I saw sent chills down my spine. Blood was flowing instead of water from the tap, which had blown us all away. I choked in the air as she showed us the blood across her lips. "I told you, Bell. But still, you didn't listen to me."

X said it slowly as he got on top of Hezi. “Do you believe in any god?” Hezi laughed, as he spit blood on X. “No, I do not believe in any of the gods only money.” “Good it will spare me the trouble.” X had replied smoothly. Slowly he placed the blade over Hezi’s heart and pushed down. It pierced his chest, the further it went in the slower it became. Hezi cried out in pain. Cries of pain transition to gurgling sounds, as Hezi’s blood started leaking from him mouth. It was over, the tip of the blade has forced its was through the heart and slowly retreated.

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.

Her father’s blood ran hot now within her even she was not entirely convinced that she was really the same blood as Antonio De Luca. Her grip was unshakable. The hunted girl was gone.

“That’s not reassuring.” Blake ignores him. His eyes never leave mine. “James didn’t just mark you,” he says. “He triggered something.” Cold dread settles in my stomach. “Triggered what?” I ask. The fire in my veins surges, answering before he does. It coils tighter, stretching, unfolding, like something long asleep is finally waking. Blake smiles. “The bloodline,” he says. “The one everyone thought was a myth.” Ethan stiffens. “No.” “Yes.” Blake’s voice is reverent now. “The Goddess-bound line. The kind that doesn’t manifest unless pushed to the edge of death.”