Bloodstained: Ritual Of The Night Best Weapons Novels & Stories

Then, without a sound, the thing dropped. It was a blur of black, leathery skin and sharp, nasty-looking limbs, and it slammed right into Aurek. He reacted in a heartbeat, catching it with one arm, shoving it upwards, and sinking his sword straight into its skull. The thing let out a horrible shriek as it crumpled to the ground, twitching and jerking. I stumbled backward, gasping for air. What in the world— Bloodspawn, Aurek grunted as he wiped the blade clean on its rough hide. Those things only show up after a ritual has already started.

Three ritualists knelt before the altar, each wearing the black robes reserved for those who had devoted their lives to studying the old blood rites. The only sound was the slow drip of blood falling from the blade held above the altar. I looked at the young warrior kneeling beside it. “More.” His hand trembled, but he cut his palm again. A fresh line of blood fell—one drop, and then another. The symbols beneath it flickered. I leaned forward. For a moment, a faint silver light moved through the grooves, but then it disappeared. Nothing. “Again.” I felt the familiar irritation settle beneath my ribs. “How many times?”

My fingers sparked with starlight, and the crowd recoiled. A bone-witch emerged, her face hidden behind a mask of fused vertebrae. "There's a way," she rasped. "A ritual from the Bloodscrolls of Vostra. It requires a heart steeped in shadow, a crown of fallen stars, and a sacrifice... *willing*." Rhydian stiffened. The black mark over his heart pulsed, as if recognizing its name. --- **EDEN'S POV**

While others relied on the primal strength of their wolves, I had forged my reputation with blood and skill. It was with these weapons that I built the Rogue Dominion—a pack born from outcasts, deserters, and the feral, united under my iron rule. I approached the central rack, where my most trusted weapons awaited me. First, my sword—a masterpiece of black steel, its blade engraved with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, worn smooth from years of use. This blade had tasted the blood of countless foes and had never once failed me.

A black whip appeared in her hand. Dark red leather strips wrapped around it while the whip’s edges were lined with razor-sharp metallic blades. The weapon radiated danger. Phoniex gently caressed the whip with her fingers. A smile slowly appeared on her lips. Beautiful. Dangerous. Hypnotizing. More streaks of light began shooting out from the crack one after another. The Blood Shadow Warriors moved swiftly, catching them expertly. Daggers. Crossbows. Swords. Long blades. Different enchanted weapons and ancient artifacts continued appearing before them.

*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

The scent of blood greeted me as soon as I opened the door, dead bodies strewn around the fighting ring, they were all had been massacred, decapitated and their bodies bent to an awkward angle. Fuck that woman, these are all my people. I heard clashing metals ahead, I looked around to see where the sparring noise was coming from. There at the cylindrical stage, I saw Axhton fighting Violet with the katana, more than a hundreds of dead bodies around them. I was kind of glad that katana was Axhton's strongest weapon. He could put up a fair fight to with her. "Sitan, what in the fucking hell! Styx! Should we help him?" Raynel gasped as he catch up beside me, taken aback from the sight that welc

“I need you to get Justin's tears. You can thank the Huntsman for breaking his heart because those are the perfect sort of sadness for the concoction I need as an offering.” She handed him a second vial. This time it was made out of a black glass. “This one is for sweat. Make sure you get it off the warriors when they're working hard training and getting ready for the night of the ritual. The sweat of impending battle will definitely be strong enough for what I need.” She held out her hand. “Give me your wrist.” “What for?” Randy asked suspiciously. “I'm going to take your blood before you leave.” “Why do I have to give the blood?”

The ruby in the hilt pulsed at my touch, like it was alive, hungry and awaiting the taste of blood that would bind it to its new master. It made me instinctively reach for the stolen scimitar that I still kept at my hip, and shudder at the same time. These were the weapons that had controlled Bloodmoon. That had aged people to death. That had caused untold suffering. If there were ever a doubt in my mind that these were indeed creations of devils like the stories told, it was gone now. After what I saw during that last battle… I didn’t want to touch these fucking things with a ten foot pole.

Rough hands shoved me into the stone wall, the impact ripping the air from my lungs. Claws raked across my arm, burning hot. I cried out, my necklace flaring with light as blood welled against her skin. Becca’s laugh was cruel, sharp. “Guess the freak bleeds like the rest of us.” The pain was white-hot, but deeper than that—something inside me stirred, a dangerous swell of power threatening to burst free.My vision blurred. I could hear the pulsing of blood.