Blades Of Mercy Novels & Stories

The steel handle was heavy and cold. I slid down the muddy slope, my boots catching on the rocks. I didn't hesitate. I drove the blade straight into the mercenary’s shoulder from behind. The man let out a sharp, high scream. He let go of Dominic’s neck and spun around, his massive arm swinging out blindly. His backhand hit my cheek, sending me flying sideways into the thorns. The knife stayed stuck in his flesh. He struggled to his feet, his hand reaching behind his back to pull the blade out, his face twisted in pure agony.

Several of the massive mercenaries stumbled backward in sheer terror as my dominant, crushing Alpha aura exploded through the tight space like a shockwave, forcing the loose gravel on the floor to literally vibrate. "What the hell is that?!" one mercenary screamed, raising his weapon with shaking hands. I rose slowly to my full, lethal height. My twin blades flashed menacingly in the gray dawn light, my face completely obscured beneath the pitch-black shadows of my hood. I didn't say a single fucking word. I just leveled my dripping blades directly at the rogue commander's throat, ready to turn this entire cavern into a slaughterhouse.

The pain was sharp, and it bloomed into heat that spread across his skin like spilt wine. “There,” Fyre murmured, his amethyst eyes gleaming as he lifted his claws to his lips. The tips were wet with red. “Now you wear my mark, little one. The first of many.” León's breath came in ragged gasps. He looked down at his chest. There were now four thin lines on it, perfectly parallel, each beaded with blood that trickled slowly toward his stomach. The sight terrified him, but beneath the terror, something else stirred. Something that made his cock twitch against his thigh.

He stood rooted in the dirt, his human skin pale against the dark mountain, his hand sliding into his belt to draw a single, serrated blade of shimmering silver-mercury. The first wave of wolves hit the gate like a landslide of muscle and teeth. Richard moved. He didn't just fight; he flickered, his body shifting at speeds that defied the eye. He parried a snapping jaw, a lunging claw, and a massive, crushing shoulder-thrust all within the span of a single heartbeat. The mercury blade hummed as it sliced through the air, carving arcs of liquid metal that repelled the Alphas with the force of a battering ram.

The Void pulsed with a dark rhythm, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Shattered fragments of impossible worlds spun and collided, twisting gravity and time into chaotic spirals. Every step Seraphine took felt heavier, as though the universe itself was trying to push her back into nothingness. The Blade of Origin glowed like molten silver in her hands. Its light reflected the bond she shared with the immortal beside her a living tether that held them steady against the impossible forces pressing from all sides.

They hit the ground in a swirl of black smoke and snarls. The twins pressed back-to-back, blades flashing in the red light. They swung wildly, covering each other, but I saw the tremor in their knees. I forced myself to step closer to Uncle Eren, lifting my scimitar even though my arms felt too heavy. “Let’s do this,” I whispered. He gave me a brief nod. “Sure, let’s go.” The hellblades pulsed brighter, casting red light across the black skin of the Marids. The sight made bile rise in my throat.

"Give it back." He tore the protective charm off, threw it to the ground, and ground it under his heel. "What makes you think anyone would want this piece of trash? I wouldn't want it if Maisie hadn't given it to me." Grandma's kindness and blessings were trampled on just like that. A piece of the protective charm broke off, and the charm's surface was marked with deep scrapes. Anger, grief, and despair exploded within me all at once. I shoved Dash to the ground and punched him again and again until Maisie screamed for us to stop.

Blood steamed on the cold earth. Mercer defenders fought fiercely—arrows rained, blades slashed, formations tightened again and again—but Damian fought like a creature that had forgotten what mercy even looked like. Every time they tried to slow him, he cut them down. Every time they tried to push him back, he tore through their center. Every time a guard shouted “For Lady Sereia!” another fell beneath his sword. The clash spiraled across the foothills in a violent tide, Vitale green and Mercer crimson staining the soil until it turned black.

He staggered back, sat in his old chair, and stared at the walls he once filled with symbols of power. And for the first time in his empire’s history, he felt obsolete. ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — NEW ENTRY “Mercy is not surrender. Mercy is the weapon most feared by those who’ve only known war.” “If they learn to hold hands instead of blades, they won’t become kings or gods.” “They’ll become something older. Something better.” —Aria

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.