Blood Of Cuchulainn の小説・ストーリー

She placed a new map on the table again and lit up the candles again, only this time with more energy-charged into it. She held the snake by the neck and placed a bowl in the middle to collect the blood of the snake when butchered. The viper's forked tongue slid out to attack Suzy but she responded by snapping its head and chanting incantations. She flung the dead snake to a corner of the room and beckoned on Cedric to come closer. Cedric's blood was dropped into the same bowl as the snake before she held him tightly by the hand, screeching magical words. Cedric also growled in pain but resisted the urge to fight back. The fire of the candles burned brighter and she poured some drops of bloo

However, most clans are too traditional to marry off their daughters to strangers. Raven, thankfully, would never do that. Bloodlust is coursing through my veins as I aim my weapon towards three guards standing at the back of the building. My body stiffens, yet my muscles remain relaxed and still, almost like I'm asleep but with my eyes open. My sole boundary is the hazy sky. There is no breeze, no outside noise. Chaos is all that is necessary. I fire, striking the first guard square in the forehead. It's too late when the other two turns to face him while their weapons. I knocked one in the hollow of his neck and the other in the heart.

*He’s trying to finish what Victor began. Caden’s eyes locked with hers, a tempest of determination swirling in their depths. She edged closer, her voice a hushed thread beneath the ritual’s rising hum. “My blood might stop it. It’s cursed—maybe that’s enough.” His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath the skin, but he nodded sharply and signaled his warriors. The clearing erupted. Steel met claw in a cacophony of violence—rogues snarled and lunged, their guttural roars reverberating off the ancient stones. Blood arced through the air, staining the pillars in dark, glistening streaks. Caden fought with the ferocity of a storm, his blade a silver whirlwind cutting through flesh and bone

She opens the book and a roach crawls out. I shriek, jerking my knees to my chest. Esme raises a brow. “You’re a wolf, and you’re scared of a roach?” “What’s a wolf without a wolf?” My smile is bittersweet. “Don’t do that,” she scolds. “You wolf will return. Now, when the rumours came, I consulted the books and some friends.” I try not to let my own thoughts scare me. “What did you find?” “You know, I’ve lived through almost seven decades, and I know a bloodline that had white hair. Moonblood.”

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

The battle was about to commence, and history would be written in the blood-soaked sands of the arena. The air in the arena was thick with tension as the champion of house Black Fire relentlessly attacked his two opponents, delivering precise and calculated cuts with each strike. His movements were a deadly dance, a symphony of violence and precision. The crowd watched in awe and anticipation as the champion showcased his superior skills. With each cut, the opponents grimaced in pain, their bodies gradually succumbing to the accumulated wounds. The cuts were strategically aimed at sensitive spots, causing maximum damage and draining their strength. Blood spilled onto the sand-covered floor,

I had not anticipated the close connection between Gislain and one of the heroes. One by one, the nobles followed Gislain's lead, contributing their blood to the swirling crimson vortex, my turn finally arrived. Hero Adelaine spared me a brief glance as I stepped forward, taking the dagger and making a clean incision on my finger. I must admit, I felt a twinge of unease as I watched my blood, a deep crimson hue, join the collective. You see, my blood was not entirely human - it carried the taint of demonic essence. While it appeared red to the naked eye, I possessed the ability to shift its colour to a rich purple, should the need arise.

Poor thing, didn’t know what was coming ahead for him. In another moment, there was a splash of blue colored liquid all over the man’s hands and his already stained clothes, along with some of the drops falling on the ground, while a whole lot of stream was flowing into the bowl containing red blood. The animal was butchered mercilessly, and the blue liquid was it’s blood. The man filled the blood bowl with that blue blood, and threw away the dead creature. Putting his one hand into the bowl and mixing the contents, he kept on chanting the words, which were first coming out

The blood sizzled as it touched the symbols, emitting a faint glow that spread across the platform. "Now, Ailith, you must do the same," Thalion instructed, his voice steady and calm. I took the dagger from him, the cool metal sending a shiver down my spine. With a deep breath, I mirrored his action, slicing my palm and letting my blood mingle with his on the stone. The symbols flared brighter, pulsating with a life of their own.

He touches his black shirt and his fingers come away bloody. “Mick?” the bulky one named Balor says, approaching skeptically, but when Mick coughs up blood, sputtering the repulsive liquid all over my face, Balor breaks into a sprint, falling to his knees by Mick’s side. His eyes widen with horror as he sees something I don’t and his head whips back to the forest behind his fallen friend who’s gasping for breath and dying, to my delight—not that I’m any better. My chest is ripped open, and I’m not healing. Doesn’t stop me from barking a startled laugh when an arrow flies, much too quietly for the rest to pick up and tears into Balor’s throat, protruding from the other side.