Crusader Armor Novels & Stories

Today was the day I was supposed to join the training. I pushed aside the soft, delicate dresses that Jay liked me to wear, and I reached for the boldest, most commanding attire that I had, a warrior set that was made especially for a Luna—it was sleek, it was imposing, and it was made for battle. The dark material, a combination of leather and light armor plating, was embroidered with intricate designs that featured gold and silver, all signs of power and dominance. The attire fit me to perfection, hugging my physique not to highlight its beauty but its power, which was something that Jay hated.

Iris said, and Roger nodded. “Now, Arman, Dominic, Stavros… I need to have a balance of all the armed forces available… We need to know the headcount and level of training. Teams and designated commanders for each group,” I said, and they nodded. “Just so you know, in my realm we have worked on a special armour…” Dominic surprised me, “It is light and quite effective, but it is bulletproof, leaving very few vulnerable spots for our guys to get hit with a bullet… in this case, the serum,” he informed me, and I smirked.

Vale moved in front of Lyra without hesitation, Ronan flanking her left side, Cassian her right, Malachai behind. “I hate that this formation makes sense,” Cassian muttered. Vale’s voice vibred low. “Silence.” The storm pulled itself inward, folding, compressing— until a figure stepped out. A tall silhouette in armor carved from pale bone. Antlers curled from its helm like sharpened branches, each one inscribed with lines of ancient script. The armor was not dead material—it breathed, faint flashes of silver and red pulsing under its surface like veins. And the air around it…

The Phalanx immediately advanced as two separate units. The first headed straight for the captain and what remained of his squadron. They quickly formed defensive lines, which gave them greater breathing room to repair. Their thick, imperious bronz armor was crested with a corinthian-style head that had a tapered titanium-carbide crest along the top and back. Beneath the curved eye sockets were two of mecha’s main sensor suites, albeit protected by a tough transparent titanium alloy. Their shields were large, round, and impossibly thick.

His golden chestplate gleamed with divine strength, lion-belted waist, and etched greaves radiating an aura of unyielding power. "Ares," whispered Darina.

It seemed that we had broken the tension. "Forgive me, I'll take them off," he said. Still, I had to admit that the way he laughed sounded familiar. Unfortunately, I couldn’t place it. Slowly but surely, the man started to take off his helmet. As soon as the Crimson Warrior took the helmet off, I was stunned by how he looked. The man beneath the crimson helmet was a blonde short haired man with a pair of emerald green eyes. After that, he started to take off his armor one by one.

King Lezdeus. He towered over nearly everyone present, his massive frame encased in armor blacker than a starless sky. But it was not the armor that made my stomach drop. It was what adorned it: bones. Skulls threaded through the plating. Ribs woven into pauldrons. Fanged jaws dangling from chains across his chest. Finger bones braided into macabre jewelry that clicked with each step. Trophies. Every single one. He wore them as a sign of brutality, a fear tactic that would not work on our Phoenix wolf.

The penthouse suite was flooded with the bright, golden light of the morning sun, the mountain wind rustling the sheer curtains of the balcony doors as if last night's violence had never occurred. I walked into the private master closet, pulling two sets of heavy tactical gear from the high-clearance racks. The Crescent Warrior armor was built for high-intensity sector operations lightweight, layered Kevlar plating embroidered with the silver crescent crest across the shoulders and reinforced with internal titanium threading to resist claw impacts. I stripped out of my rumpled formal uniform, pulling the dark tactical shirt and structured pants over my frame before locking the heavy chest pl

Its silver blade caught the first light of dawn. "For the kingdom." His voice carried across the valley. "For our future." Thousands of weapons rose into the air. A deafening roar answered him. Behind the front lines, Aurelia tightened the straps of her leather armor. It was lighter than royal battle gear, designed for movement rather than ceremony. Silver threads woven into the dark fabric shimmered faintly, recognizing the blood that flowed through her veins. She stared toward the battlefield. Thousands of lives. Thousands of choices. Thousands who would never return home. Lucian approached quietly.

“Good morning, please come closer, I will take your blood for a moment, it’s not that hurt but you can close your eyes if you afraid” The lady says it like she already repeated it as a template for her entire career as a nurse here. Arthur pushed my wheelchair closer to the nurse, his eyes meet my eyes, and he notices the fear within me. He held out his hand to me, trying to calm me down. And I accept his helping hand, hold it so tight to disguise the needle prick in my skin. I remember I hold his hand so tight, really tight ‘till I can feel the warmth of his palm.