Cyrus Wyvern Wind の小説・ストーリー

He was still shirtless, his skin steaming in the cold morning air, his muscles taut and ready for war. He faced the shadow creatures and slammed his fist against his chest three times, a ritualistic sound that echoed like thunder. Then he opened his mouth and let out a roar so loud and primal that the ground itself seemed to shake. I had to clutch my ears to keep them from bleeding. The sheer power of the roar hit the shadow creatures like a physical blast, causing them to dissipate into the mist like smoke in a gale. Cyrus stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, before he slowly turned his gaze toward me. His green eyes weren't soft anymore. They were burning with a terrifying intensit

he reminded her forcefully. "You simply got a taste of your own medicine," she answered calmly. Her voice sent a chill on his spine. He couldn't help but feel an eerie sense of calm watching her mist-like silver hair being wafted in mid-air by her radiance. Her veins were visible on her skin, pulsing with silver, golden, and cyan light simultaneously. He's not exhibiting the same condition. He felt envy. The effect looked stunning. To top it all off, the girl can produce the same crystal weapons the hunters can.

However, anyone with eyes could see that I wasn’t remotely close to being in charge of myself. “Cy, please! Listen to me, you have to stop. This isn’t you, please don’t do this,” Kormen shouted. I could barely hear him over the roaring winds that I’d created. I didn’t want to hear him though. I didn’t want to listen to him suddenly revert back to the friend I knew and loved. And my Vetur? It wanted nothing more than to face the challenge of taking out the warriors before me. Their numbers created a worthy opponent. Vetur surged through me, shocking my body into a numbing cold. My power had never affected me directly. That should have been concerning, but I was beyond concern.

Alkhun alughs at his joke. Cyan shoots his arrows and a large wind suddenly blew. Cyan's attribute was wind and it fits perfectly for his chosen position, archery. By controlling the wind he could increase the power and speed of the bow. It gives him a large advantage over other archers. No wonder he was at the top of his league despite his bad usage of it. As the winds got stronger CYan concentrated on his target. The flying bird is km away. It was only normal for an archer to see that far, but for

I made a list of the eight, each assigning them to one person. Caden Winnow, Alpha of the Winnow pack Bane Fangworth, Marcel’s father and former Alpha of Fangworth pack Fenrir of the Night, Alpha of Night pack Ragnar Blackclaw, Alpha of Claw pack Lykos Bloodrose. Alpha of the Bloodrose pack Grim, Alpha of the Midnight pack Zayne Wilde, Alpha of the Wilde pack Alaric Wolfsage, Alpha of the Wolf Sage pack I handed each name to the eight assassins. “The last person is Hayden Storm, the Alpha of the storm pack but I will handle that personally,” I told them.

As the wind howled, Iris stepped forward, feeling the air shift. A stone platform jutted from the rock face, glowing faintly. On it stood a single figure—robed in gold and black. A Veyari. “You have come to the edge,” the figure said. “The second seal knows your blood.” Iris stepped forward. “We’re not here to break it.” “But it will break nonetheless.” The stone cracked beneath them. The cliff trembled. Behind them, the ground erupted. A creature formed of wind and shadow rose from the earth, howling.

His old vampire servant spoke after putting the tray on his desk, " Your Highness! Are you going upstairs?" Cyrus hummed without retracting his feet from going forward. His old servant reminded peering a look outside through the flapping curtains, " Rain seem to pour longer this time. I was saying that you should take a look at those 'Witchi Herbs' for a once at least. You know that they are effective during the rain."

But the real tether—the faint, warm spark of their soul-bond—throbbed in his chest, urging him onward. He roared, unleashing a spiraling conflagration that vaporized the illusion. “Hold me to my path, beloved,” he whispered into the wind, and plunged ahead. They hit the spiral’s center like arrows loosed from a bow. Light swallowed them—then shattered. --- Silence. No wind, no mist—only the soft, breathing hush of a sun-touched forest. Wyverns circled to a gentle landing among towering silverwoods whose leaves shimmered teal and rose gold. Petals drifted like sleepy snow. In the distance, crystalline spires caught dawn light—Xaerath, restored.

He was a dangerous werewolf, with an aura so chilling it instinctively urged one to keep their distance. "Do you have a thing for him?" I teased. "Ahem..." came Yvette's flustered cough from the line. "I'm not that foolish! It's just that the Gross Group is reportedly looking to invest in drones. I thought I'd check it out for potential collaborations." I hesitated, an instinctive sense of danger making me reluctant to see Cyrus again. Yet deep within me, my wolf stirred unusually, emitting a faint sigh. The mere thought of Cyrus's scent—a blend of cedar and leather—triggered an inexplicable signal of affinity. My tail tip seemed to brush against my spine, carrying a longing I couldn't quite

The forest trembled beneath the weight of wings. Shadows slid across, blotting out the stars, fifty hunters of nightmare, bound by blood-oath and gold glided effortlessly. The Wyverns came first. Twenty-five scaled reapers, their sinewed bodies gleaming like wet iron beneath the moon. Their wings were vast, membranous sails, beating against the treetops. Spines ridged their backs like serrated blades, and from their fanged maws dripped venom that hissed where it struck the leaves. Their eyes burned with the dull red of banked embers — cold, intelligent and merciless.