Novel & Cerita Blades Of The Fallen Prince

Prince Blade levitated, his fingers were long and possessed sharp black claws that were half a meter long. His fangs were visible and his eyes were bright red, unlike the other warriors whose eyes were dark red. "You sick bastard, today is your end!" Prince Blade growled, proudly flaunting his creepy fingers. "I think you're talking about yourself, young man," The king looked unbothered at the sight of his own men being killed by the overzealous vampire warriors. "Well... Why don't we let our skills do the talking?" Prince Blade suggested, looking more than ready to rip off the pesky king's mask and swipe his poisonous claws across his face.

The memories of the borderlands, the hunts, the bloodshed—they all blurred into the background. Only the blade remained. Steel. Control. Focus. He spun the sword once and brought it down in a clean strike that would have split a skull from crown to jaw. The sound echoed softly across the courtyard. Then— “You train early.” The voice came from behind him. Deep. Smooth. Ancient. Adrian froze instantly. His instincts reacted before his thoughts did. He turned and dropped to one knee. “My king.” King Vaelreth stood near the entrance of the courtyard, his dark cloak stirring slightly in the cold morning wind.

But his blue eyes held a wicked light, and his lips fought a curl of smug satisfaction. “Princess Diandreliera of Uyan Taesil,” Rivyn announced gravely. “Although the Fae Court is not prepared at this time to mobilise against the Queen Clareath’s takeover of Uyan Taesil, we recognise and honour your efforts on behalf of the brethren there. As such, I, Rivyn Nae Ederne, offer you my sword,” he produced the sword from the air with a flourish that drew exclamation even from the jaded courtiers. “This is Intuin Desparen, the Heart Blade.”

The boy tossed the bow aside then drew two knife like weapons, having three sharp metal prong - with the side prongs curved and the middle straight and long, enough to measure a long knife blades from his side. Revenge filled thoughts, Prince Alfred went all in at the boy, getting close enough he swung his sword towards the lad but he was nippy enough to slide under it, cutting Prince Alfred’s torso as he did. Moving forward languorously, Prince Alfred squeals in pain as he holds on to the bleeding cut, making a quick turn with all his might he struck down at the boy who checked the attack with one blade, stabbing Alfred’s neck with the other, bringing him to his knees.

He groaned, trying to pick the sword again but one of the Ravens kicked it away from him. His red eyes snapped towards the Raven man and he froze in shock, he didn't believe when the other men were murmuring that the Prince's eyes were red but now, staring at those blood hungry red eyes - he believed with every drop of blood in his heart muscle. Before he could turn back, the sword pierced through his stomach and he fell down dead. Even as the Ravens are very afraid, they knew they had to bring him down no matter what situation the atmosphere might be in. The full moon wasn't helping matters for the Prince as his blue eyes fluttered to his red. From blue to red, red to blue, blue to red. Vei

"Show proper respect." "I am a prince of the Federation," Caelum replied quietly, his voice carrying despite its softness. "I kneel for no one but my queen." The guard's grip tightened on his weapon. "You're cattle now, boy. Best remember that." The hall stretched impossibly high, carved from volcanic stone that seemed to drink the light from massive chandeliers. Stained glass windows depicted scenes of vampire victory—humans kneeling, blood flowing like rivers, pale figures standing triumphant over battlefields. The artistry was undeniable, but the message was clear: this was what happened to those who opposed the Crimson Dominion.

His hand still gripped the hilt like it was all he had left. "Go on," Nikolai stepped forward. "Strike. But if you raise that blade again, make sure you kill me." I felt it in my throat. That pause. That breath where no one moved, not even the fire. Like the air was holding its own lungs. Then the prince... he moved. Fast. Too fast. The blade rose high. My breath stuck. The sword came down. I screamed.

Steel met steel, the clash of swords echoing across the field as our armies collided in a storm of blood and fury. I slashed at the first enemy in my path, my blade biting deep into his armor. He fell, but his body didn’t stop moving. His hand reached for my ankle even as his life drained from him, the dark magic animating his broken form. I kicked him off and kept fighting, but it was clear now—their wounds meant nothing. They would fight until their bodies were unrecognizable, driven by the Overlord's dark power. I fought like a man possessed, cutting down anyone who dared to stand in my way. But even as I tore through the Overlord’s soldiers, my eyes kept searching for him. The Overlord.

I stepped into him. His eyes widened as my blade punched up through his shoulder, sliding past bone. His axe missed, biting the sand. I ripped free, crimson spraying across my chest. He bellowed, staggering back. “You bastard!” But before I could finish him, Selene struck. Her dagger slid between my ribs. The world went white. I gasped, air tearing out of me in a wet rattle. She leaned close, lips brushing my ear. “Fall, little prince. No one survives me.”