Dark Salamander Summoners War Novels & Stories

The summoning process takes blood and that's when the contract is sealed. it consumes blood every time it is called. But the owner or the summoner has the power to control it and to make it obey them. The dragon scale of the garina is the deadliest poison..enough to kill someone by the touch of it... It is white in color but it was told that the summoner is immune to its poison... "wow...she really did summon a powerful creature of history," he said shutting his book.

They were also the first humans to betray their kind and collaborate with the dragons. Salamander clansmen were considered direct descendants of Homusubi, the fire god. Together with their dragon overlords, they hewed entire mountains and smelted ores to build the stateliest castles and the most impregnable fortresses. They created hand weapons and war machines – repeating crossbows, hand cannons, trebuchets – that extended the power of the nine-headed dragon god, Kuzuryū Daimyōjin, to every corner of Pan-Terra. The exhaust of the Salamanders’ smokestacks choked the sky as far as the eye could see.

Freya asks. “Call your brother now. He will confirm.” The man answers. “Who is our brother?” Mythi asks to test the man. “Black Dragon of Dark Knight.” The man answers again. “Call him.” “Mythi, video call oppa now! Hurry!” Freya tells her sister while staying on her fighting stance. “Okay, unnie.” Mythi says and contacts her brother. He answers immediately. His face looks worried on the screen. “Mythi? Why? What happened? Are you girls okay?” JD asks on the phone.

When he came out of the temple, a lone goblin was waiting for him. The goblin was unarmed and did not seem to want a fight. Nio waited. The goblin said: “Greetings, Sunbringer. I am Lido, the war chief of the Swer tribe. I guess the high shaman is dead and you're going back south now." Nio shook his head and replied: “The first part of what you said is true. The shaman is dead. But I will not return south. I'm going east, towards Sogorim. "

“I know you’ve heard of me, but I’ll introduce myself for formality. The name’s Sloane. I’m a fifteen-year-old powerful and intimidating Shadowest from Beththorphe Empire.” Flicking her thumb, a midnight-black shadow appeared beside her, reflecting her height. She patted it before talking once again. “My shadow’s in level two and it’s a Scyrawing type, because I’m a weapon summoner.” The moment she said the word summon, a dagger flew in the air, which she caught by simply raising her hand. The presence of her shadow and her weapon has intimidated most of their circles that they ended up summoning their shadow, flickering different intensities of darkness.

Blood spattered from both of them, falling like rain. Some of the Kimball wolves got past the vampires, who were retreating to Charlie’s side, and flung themselves right into the path of Dor’s spells. They flew back, their bodies making horrid popping sounds, like mosquitoes in a bug zapper. It didn’t matter. There were more coming up behind me, and the weres who’d triggered the spells had also caught the shaman’s attention. Even at a distance, I could see his eyes. They glowed with green fire, and his mouth was moving, crafting some kind of magic.

Struggling to look up, she sees dark clouds surrounding the dark dungeon and when she looked in front, her entire body went still with a bone chilling fear. The closed eyes of Thora were wide open ,and they were staring back at her. Yet what made her fear and nearly piss her pants. Were the colour of her eyes They were all white....her pupils and everything was white. And they were looking directly at her. And that's when the realisation hits her, making her wish for the earth to open and take her within. The girl...she was not normal.....she was the one the entire werewolf kingdom is searching for. She was the one in prophesies...she is the summoner herself.

Shadows poured from the fissures, writhing like serpents, then coalesced into a form. A cloaked figure stepped through, cloaked in midnight mist, face hidden beneath a porcelain mask. Zara grabbed Maxim’s arm. “What the hell is that?” “A Council Summoner,” Maxim growled. “And it means they’ve declared open war.” The masked figure raised a single hand. Runes ignited in the air—ancient, binding. Maxim lunged forward, shifting partially mid-air, claws meeting spell-light in a burst of silver sparks. Zara backed away, but the shadows followed. One coiled around her ankle—cold, sentient, wrong.

Her blood was the final key. I agreed without hesitation. This was my dream. “So be it,” I said out loud. I stood again and raised my arms to the sky. The power surged. The Devourer roared, not with sound, but with energy, and I felt it pass into me like fire. Now it was time. I summoned the rest of my forces. Dark disciples, cloaked in shadows, stepped out from the mountain’s cracks like they’d been waiting all along. Enchanted beasts howled into the wind, ready to kill. Warriors long dead rose from the earth, bones crackling. Their eyes glowed with the eclipse’s fire.

With a smile across his face he called forth a weapon he had not used in a long time, reminding the world of its presence once more. “Come! Ashen Axe of War and Grime and that which was born of Volcanic Mud.” “I, Pathfinder, summon thee. Come…” “Rigor!” *ROAR*