Crimson Blade Novels & Stories

"This is the legendary Crimson Blood Sword from the reign of the Blood Emperor. Although its grade isn't quite at disaster rank, it can drain the blood of living beings to refill its owner's power. When a specific number of lives have been sacrificed, the blade itself can evolve to the Disaster rank." The Count elaborated. His eyes were drawn to the weapon. "With its blood-stealing qualities, it may be stated that this is an ideal blade for somebody who lives on the battlefield." I was taken aback. The name of the sword differed from what the system displayed. Wait a second... Did this auction house just give it a random name because they didn't know what it was? I chuckled. "The Crimson Blo

Shame this was evening happening to me. Unfortunatly, Damon moved to stand beside Ethan. “These are Twisted Blade push daggers. A tri-edge blade that spirals. Also known as a cyclone blade. They insure maximum damage with little effort. When used correctly, it will increase our killing effectiveness by 10%. Your opposite will bleed out before their wolf will be able to heal them.”

“Black Crimson has an extremely distinctive style. If you have someone else paint for him, it’s just going to be written off as a fake.” “No,” Hayden assured him. “It’s not.” When everyone merely frowned, confused, I groaned and rolled my eyes, willing him not to stick out his own neck or admit anything stupid. “No way,” I told him, slashing out a hand. “I’m not down with that plan.” But he didn’t have to say anything. Because Camille suddenly gasped. “Oh my God,” she murmured, gaping between me and Hayden with sudden realization. “Black Crimson isn’t just one person. You guys are like the Brothers Hildebrandt.” She spun to address my brother. “Aren’t you?”

Blade sprang into action to catch it, but the boar was wild and rabid and was not surrendering without a fight. Even before Blade got even a slight scratch from the wild boar, it just dropped dead on his feet. I had to tell the spirits not to interfere with Blade unless I asked them to. They agreed, but a few days later, while Blade was sparring with one of his warriors, his body was enveloped in a black mist, and I had to scream and ask them to stop. I was terrified that if Mike attacked Blade, he would just drop dead. So, at this point, Blade and I decided that he was not to go into any friendly combat with anyone until I could make the spirits stop overprotecting him.

Her hands fumbled in the corner, the sound of zippers and clattering makeup spilling onto the floor. “I—I can’t find it!” she stammered. The shadow creature twisted under me, throwing its weight. My grip slipped, claws raking down my ribs. Pain flared white and hot. “You’ll find it now,” I snapped, forcing its head against the rug. “Or she dies!” That jolted her. Pelin scrambled to her bag, yanking the red crescent blade free. It glowed faintly, the markings along its edge pulsing like embers.

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 recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

The red-eyed creature lunged. Darkness exploded across the battlefield. It swallowed the remains of the Trial of Two Hearts. Mountains of black mist rose into the sky. Each one took the shape of snarling beasts with glowing crimson eyes. Their roars shook the heavens. Kael tightened his grip on the silver blade. The weapon felt alive. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, like it had been waiting centuries for his touch. Beside him, Rhydian held the golden blade. The moment their shoulders brushed, both swords began to hum. Silver and gold light intertwined, forming invisible threads between them.

"It would have been simpler to lop the heads off of dissenters than take in an outcast and train her to slit throats in the dark." "Careful Lycan Lord." Cassidy's voice was soft, a deadly whisper. "Men tend to look the same in the dark. I'd hate to accidentally slit your pretty throat by mistake."

Each stroke was the beginning of a war she had every intention of winning. --- She was colder than the wind that sliced through the rooftop. Not emotionally distant—no, that would be easy. She was precise. Every blink, every breath, every silence… calculated. He watched her read the contract like it was a blueprint for betrayal. She didn’t ask about protection or escape clauses. She didn’t demand favors. She was here with a sword tucked behind her spine, and Kieran admired that. It wasn’t every day you watched someone walk into the lion’s den with her eyes wide open and a dagger of her own.