Dark Souls 3 Onyx Blade Novels & Stories

“Besides, when you saved His Grace, you had saved us as well. You don’t know this but we owe you a lot more than you think, princess.” “Still, this is not fair for you. I haven’t even beaten you yet, Sir.” The knights laughed. Onyx’s eyes were dancing with amusement when he said, “You are really still thinking about that?” “Of course, Sir.” Before he could answer, Blade stepped out of the door. He was wearing the same uniform as his knights. My eyes widened. “You are coming with me too, your grace?” “Lead us, warrior,” he said instead. “And we will follow.”

I said. Meridia and I turned around to see undead inklings walking towards us “Fragmenters, undead remnants of Shattered Inkopolis” I said as I grab a fused weapon of the X-Blade from Kingdom Hearts and Dawnbreaker from Elder Scrolls B: Skyrim known as the Blade of Dawn. I look at Meridia holding her beacon filled with her light “let’s deal with these Fragmenters first before we continue” I said.

Manolya’s POV Aziz leapt onto the handrail and sat as neat as a taught coin. He licked a paw with an affected calm. “I forgot to mention,” he said, as though it pleased him to deliver exposition, “you can now perceive certain things you could not before. You are connected to the blades. Welcome to the obsidian dimension. Some creepy things dwells there. It might be disconcerting at first.” Pelin exchanged a glance with me. Her face had turned pale in a way I recognized as dread.

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.

Belief. I had given all three. The scars lived on my skin. My mind held the names of those who died in divine silence. My faith had fractured under what I had seen—but I stayed. And tonight, I would give more. I stepped onto the dais and lifted the ceremonial dagger—the Black Blade. Not forged metal, but obsidian fused with the bones of priestesses who had died mid-prophecy, minds split by divine madness. It could cut through flesh… and fate. I drew it across my palm again, deeper than before. My blood struck the altar and hissed.

Haris was taken aback when he saw Adrian's attack. He had a deep impression of the Inferno Purgatory. It was this move that told him that Adrian’s weapons were top-notch treasures. As someone from Blade's Reach, Haris had been around weapons since childhood, particularly swords. Adrian's Divine Frost Slayer Blade was the most enigmatic weapon he had ever encountered. It seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, making it extraordinarily mysterious. As for the Hellblade, he deduced from his clashes with Adrian that it was an exceptionally rare and valuable weapon.

"Now I know it works." The Blackbone blade is an old Woods family heirloom. My grandmother gave it to me on her deathbed, revealing that one of our ancestors had taken it from a defeated clan of witches. The Blackbone blade has the ability to drain the power of anyone it cuts. It steals life and energy, and as Karl's wounds grow brighter I know he isn't long for this world. It's a shame I had to use this on him. Now he'll die like all the pigeons and foxes I slashed when I was younger.

One of the only things that still felt real when the rest of my memories seemed to come and go like smoke. I unwrapped it slowly, fingers brushing the hilt as it was etched. The metal deep crimson-black, with dark veins of Obsidian magic crawling just under the surface. The reflection of my own bloodline. Thornveil in root. Umbraen in finish. Something darker below. Something old. I didn’t hesitate. With a flick of my wrist, the blade ran across my palm, and I let the blood drip down the flat of the steel. I spoke the trace command. It should’ve flared as it was supposed to, controlled. Familiar.

“Does this mean something?” Edward, who I’ve always viewed as father figure, is now all hunter in his response. “It means that you’re not just any hunter. And that’s as scary as it is promising.” Rion leans in so close his voice is almost private, “There’s a legend that the Orion blades can split in two.” He’s joking, I think—until I flick my wrist, and the blade separates perfectly down the center, each half locking into my hands like twin extensions of my own arms. The blue light flares, briefly blinding.

“Mwahaha, I want every last one of them. Don’t make me wait!” I opened the lid. Inside lay the legendary hellblades, their malevolent aura instantly unmistakable in the dim room. And of course, the ancient weapons immediately sensed the demon’s presence channeling through my body, and the metal edges began to gleam with a sinister red light. Tethys’s feeling of absolute triumph surged through my veins like a lethal poison. But as I looked closer at the velvet lining, I realized one of the blades was missing. The last blade, the specific one that Manolya always kept close to her person for protection, wasn’t in the box.