Blood Blade Dance Novels & Stories

“Bloodied Blade: Crazed Cut of the Blade King!” With a furious bellow Mane announced the name of his technique. It wasn’t to anyone in particular. It was more like a declaration of what he was going to do. He intended to crash the foe before him with absolute force. The lightning around his blades screamed even louder as they became more destructive. The Bloodied Blade Series was so much more destructive than the Prideful Sword Series. So much so that Mane had been able to pick up just one technique from it so far. And when used in conjunction with an element of mass destruction like lightning, its effects were catastrophic. As the swords reached Camila, the temperature of the blades caused

Gretchen swings her blades stylishly like the center of attraction in a choreographic display. She moves as fast and gentle as the wind and her blades create sounds as they cut through the air, missing her target, Gabriel’s head. Gabriel dodges her attacks; he is at a disadvantage as he finds little space to return an attack of his own. His glowing blue eyes move left to right, creating little traces of light in this dark building, their fight looks like a dance similar to the Chinese martial arts dance, one dodging and the other attacking.

The pain of it was a physical white–hot agony in my shared chest. The hesitation was all Blade needed. The curse, fed by that fresh, devastating pain, surged back with a vengeance. The grey in his eyes vanished, swallowed by the violent red-blue. *I’LL SHOW YOU STRONG!* With a snarl that held no humanity, Blade’s clawed paw shot out. It wasn’t a swipe to wound. It was a killing blow. Fast, brutal, final. The girl’s whimper was cut off. Silence, except for the drip of the rain and Blade’s heavy panting.

she whispered, fear threading her voice. “You survived it,” I said, gripping the handle of my knife, feeling the familiar weight like an extension of my arm. “And then you make sure it never comes back.” Blade gave me a nod, a silent agreement. His gaze flicked to the shadows. “It’s not human. Not really. But it can bleed. And when it bleeds…” His eyes glinted. “…we make it count.” From the corner of my eye, I caught movement. A black blur, almost imperceptible, circling behind the trees. My heart hammered. The figure was patient, letting us think we had a moment’s reprieve. But that was all it was—an illusion.

The master officiating the match called for it to begin. Immediately Nila sprung from a ready stance into Sparrow Through The Brush, she flitted back and forth stabbing with her thin rapier. Fur blocked each stab with Falcon On The Wind, a form normally used for fighting an opponent using a sword with a single edge. He struck back with Tiger Jumps Its Prey, a huge over hand blow that Nila side-stepped. That move would have sheared her and her thin blade completely in half. Nila was wide eyed now, she was completely out classed and she knew it. The fear left her eyes again, replaced by resolve and anger. Boro's fear only increased.

He was the wealthy, arrogant playboy girls would swoon around, and also the Blade family's eldest son. "Ezekiel?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ezekiel Blade,” he said. "Why are you without your glasses, freckle face?” He always mentioned his last name like he was nothing without it. But I knew that he loved the name so much as it meant people would fear him. I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away from his grip. “Still a bully, huh? Besides, I don't wear glasses anymore, and I'm definitely not freckle face. It's Lydia Winters,” I said, mimicking his words.

He felt the shift in the air pressure, the sudden, violent displacement of the holographic cherry blossoms. The white blade materialized aimed directly at Dax's neck. Dax ducked, the blinding corrupted sub-ether searing the collar of his leather cut as it passed over him. He spun on his heel, driving his Phase-Knife in a brutal upward arc toward the Shogun's exposed chrome ribs. CLANG. The Shogun parried the strike with blinding speed, the clash of blue and white sub-ether sending a localized shockwave through the courtyard that cracked the obsidian floor beneath their boots.

Before the phantom could swing, I sharply slid the sharp edge of my silver blade directly across the palm of my left hand. A sharp spike of pain flared through my skin as my hot, ancient lineage blood welled up, completely coating the silver steel in a thick, glowing crimson layer. With a fierce, explosive battle cry, I dodged beneath the phantom’s heavy, slow sweep, utilizing my martial arts training to pivot sharply onto my heels. I drove the blood-coated silver blade straight into the center of the phantom's chest.