Blades Of Mercy Novels & Stories

She drove her blade upward, the silver steel slicing cleanly through the mercenary’s armpit, severing the major artery before spinning behind him and driving her boot into his spine, launching him into the flames. Beside her, Klaus was a whirlwind of absolute devastation. He moved through the smoke like an inescapable shadow, the black-steel broadsword clearing a wide, bloody path through the mercenary vanguard. He didn't just strike; he shattered. A Blood-Moon enforcer raised a heavy iron shield to block an incoming down-swing, but Klaus’s immense, Lycan-infused strength literally cleaved the iron shield in two, the dark blade continuing down to split the soldier's breastplate.

Brendan flicks a gaze at each of the three men, one at a time, before two of them crumple - backward, their spines snapping at unnatural angles - instantly to the ground. Alcina trembles when she looks at their faces, cast with the pale, luminous light of the moon. Dead. The whites of their eyes were grotesque and waxy. Blood radiating outwards from the thin, precise wounds that decorate the center of their backs, where the shadowy blade had pierced them through and crushed their spines. And a blade pierced at their heart – if you look closely - looks precisely like Brendan's claws on the other hand. When Brendan pulls his hand back, sitting next to Alcina, the bloodied bodies of the two mer

“Fuck. I could have sworn they would have known who we were. We fucking introduced themselves.” They both slammed hundred dollar bills on the table. Bryan added another and Auri came over from the kitchen where she was standing and gathered the money, shoving it in her pocket. I looked at them, confused. “Goddess, he really doesn’t know.” Lucy shook her head and left my side. “No wonder they have been treating us like shit.” “Shall we reintroduce ourselves then?” Hector smiled, leaning against the table. “We’ll start.” One of the head warriors smiled. “I’m AJ, Jax is my older brother. We are known more in the mercenary community as The Bloodblades.”

I shouted. I stepped out from behind Rowan. The obsidian blade in my hand felt different now. It wasn't just a heavy piece of stone. It was light, almost weightless, and it thrummed with the soft, white light of the girl I had seen in the warehouse. It was the **Blade of the Unsaid**. Every word I had swallowed, every dream I had put aside for the sake of survival, every "I love you" that had been lost in the roar of battle—it was all there, feeding the light. Vane pivoted, his liquid form spinning like a drill. He ignored Rowan and came for me. He was fast—too fast for a human to track. He was a blur of silver and shadow.

A second strike followed instantly and it kept coming and coming as steel flashed repeatedly. The blade finally made a shallow cut across my shoulders. Pain burned through the cut. It was time to end this. A growl left my throat, Brook pleading to have a taste of blood. My claws lengthened, muscles expanded, fangs protruding. I shifted, but not fully. The mercenary took a step backward as the ground cracked beneath his feet. I caught his sword, snapping the blade in half. Smoke hissed through the air as silver burned my skin. I threw the broken blades effortlessly.

I let it out. The rogues tried to fight back. They had Council blades that shone like lies. Men fell on both sides. I did not think of mercy. Mercy would have left their steel in the hands of those who bought it. I struck until my arms burned. I struck until the ground drank the proof of my hands. A woman lunged at me with a short blade. Her face was young and empty. I moved and her arm broke with a sound like a branch snapping. She screamed and crawled away. The scream tasted like victory and shame at once. I did not let shame stop me then.

Swoosh! Several beams of sword light ripped through the air. Every beam of sword light meant the death of a saint-level mercenary. Although the saint-level mercenaries had gained the upper hand, six or seven of them died in an instant before they could react. The beams of silver sword light destroyed everything wherever they passed. Even the defense of the saint-level mercenaries was as fragile as a piece of paper in front of these beams. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" The saint-level mercenaries exploded like watermelons smashed by a giant hammer, and blood and bones fell from the sky.

At least 20 armed mercenary wolves spilled from the shadows, their weapons flashing. The first one lunged for me. Steel met steel as I parried, spinning into him and ramming my elbow into his jaw hard enough to make a bone crack. Another came at my side, Varien snarled in my head, and I dropped low, sweeping his legs before driving my blade into his throat. "Not today Satan."

You demanded it obey you and aside from that not even being normally possible unless you're a deamon who are you mister? Rei: Well to begin with young man I am in fact a deamon. Born full-blooded and it would appear you are a Majekador. (As the halestorm of vicious fire water Earth lightning and other spells all come firing down at them Rei glances at the pseudo magic and decides to give a small display of his own. Removing what appears to be a sword from a interdimensional space behind his back, he steps forward and begins to create multiple copies of himself all attacking simultaneously against each individual spell.) HellFire Style: First form. Meteor Of Blades! (His onslaught of slashes

The skirmish was a blur of violence and ice. The Northern Mercenaries lunged at us, their rusted silver blades whistling through the mist. I didn't use a weapon. I moved through the battlefield like a ghost, my feet barely touching the ground. Every time a Mercenary swung at me, I simply existed in their space. My frequency was so high that their blades shattered upon contact with my skin. I reached out and touched the chest of a High-Mercenary, and he turned into a pillar of frost-dust before he could even scream. “Left! They’re flanking!” Sasha’s voice was a predatory snarl in my head.