Demon Slayer Oc Breathing Styles Novels & Stories

But now, faced with Monica's venomous threats, he felt a primal urge to assert his own dominance. Taking a deep breath, Deimon let loose a low growl, the sound vibrating deep within his chest. He straightened his posture, his shoulders squaring back, and stared at Monica's retreating form. As he focused his emotions, a surge of power coursed through him. The air crackled with a faint blue energy, a physical manifestation of his Alpha aura.

I yelled releasing my sword of the righteous. I swung at the demon, his large burnt figure moved with a speed rivaled to that of a vampire. His eyes leaked magma as if it were crying. It opened its mouth roaring loudly at me, showing me its bright orange throat. I cut through its arm, causing it to let out a loud screech that harmed my hearing. I didn't have time to process as it slashed my chest with its claw like fingers.

Adrian instructed, "Everyone, focus your minds and breathe through your energy core. Do not breathe through your nose, or you won’t be able to resist the daemonic essence." Having just fought a brief skirmish, Adrian had quickly grasped the opponent’s tactics and provided the necessary guidance. The team followed his instructions, holding their breath and infusing more energy into their crystals. The crystals’ light grew even more dazzling, enveloping Adrian in a radiant silver glow. Adrian condensed his energy into a sword and said to the black-robed man, "I detest boastful people like you. After all, the outcome is still undecided." With his words, he thrust his sword essence toward the sk

Her uniform was halfly soaked in blood, "I will now demonstrate to you the true power of a swordsman!" She widens her stance and raises her sword over her head, "Sword Style!" Her sword starts to resonate with her breathing. "Way of water!" "Water bullet!" Bubbles of water form at the tip of her sword, with a swing the bubbles are sent tearing through the air like bullets. Tim swings his sword at the bubble coming at him, a water bubble flies through his shoulder before he could react. What? He asked. That was faster than I anticipated "Lightless slash", he says as he attempts to stop the water bubble.

******************************* Lysan gasped as he jerked off the bed before his mind could catch up. He swallowed and exhaled repeatedly, like he had forgotten how to breathe. One hand gripped his chest, his heart was pounding fast. He was alive. His eyes scanned the room, but it looked wrong. Clean white ceilings, afternoon sun from the window. The air smelled fresh—like soap and perfumes. No single smell of blood lingered around. His head throbbed, he raised a hand to massage his temple. He stopped mid air. That hand was not his. It was too smooth for someone who had spent half of his entire life fighting wars. No calluses from swords, the scar where the Demon king's claw gripped him in t

His heart is beating even slower. I tilt his head back to give me more access, and I blow more air into his mouth. I don’t stop, I keep breathing into his mouth. Come on! Breathe! You goddamn omega!. Fucking breathe Sorahiko!. He’s not breathing. I don’t let up. Inhale. Exhale. Push. Not until he takes in that first shaky breath. Not until he starts breathing by himself, albeit shakily. At least he’s breathing. I pick him up gently, cradling the back of his head in my hands. It’s the first time I’ve seen Sorahiko so silent. It’s unnerving.

Without a doubt, Cassian had been defeated. He didn't even have the strength to lift up an arm anymore. The next moment, Ashton dropped to the ground. He was struggling to stand, and his vision was blurry. But despite that, he still forced himself to steady his footing. He swallowed a mouthful of blood and immediately began to activate the Cosmic Breathing Technique. He wanted to recover some spiritual energy so he could finish Cassian once and for all! The combat stage was drenched with blood and covered with sparks. The air crackled, and Cassian's screams echoed across Terminus Cliff.

It was a female voice, familiar yet strange, but I couldn’t place it. "I’m not doing this!" I screamed, the words nearly lost in the howling wind. "I don’t know how to stop it!" The wind only grew fiercer, and the voice became more desperate, louder, pleading. "Please! You’re killing me!" "No!" I shouted back, panic swelling in my chest. "I’m not doing this! I don’t know what to do!" The pressure around me increased, closing in on me, crushing me. It felt like everything was spinning out of control, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned, my vision blurred. The voice was getting weaker, fading, but still pleading.

"Human... how are you..." Lucien Desrosiers, the Demon King of the dark court, took one stunned step back. The noise behind him died at once. The hall was packed with elders, guards, and newly chosen sacrificial consorts, yet everyone seemed to forget how to breathe. Someone whispered, "She is not afraid of him? The Demon King's whole body carries the lust-curse. Any woman who gets too close starts collapsing within three seconds. Why is she fine?"

Chicago's breathing remained at the same steady pace, and he expressed no fear as the four demons pounced towards him. He bolted like an accelerating lightning bolt, striking down one of the demons with his energy blade to begin the brawl. Two of the demons activated an attack from their spiritual energy, using demon arts techniques to send shards of their defeated ally's blood towards Chicago. Chicago sliced down each blood shard with ease, still being mindful to maintain a steady form of breathing to prevent from energy exhaust.