Demonic Blades Novels & Stories

They circled each other as terra considered her options, she was surely going to die if she did not find a kind of weapon lethal enough to harm a demon, Illummino She heard again, the demon jumped at terra as she slashed it with her flame blades, it landed and laughed, "I have faces flames worse than that terrena, I have spent over a millennium in hell and you hit me with that?" He said in a mocking tone, Illummino She heard again, That was when it clicked, but her wasting time cost me a slash by the demon's claw as she rolled away, it shrieked in glee as it made to kill her, and that was when terra released it, It went through the demon like a blade as it screamed, illuminos’ light, forged

Landon asked. “Yes.” “How do we kill it?” Reede asked. “That’s where Dane comes in.” Dane dropped his duffel on the desk, distributing goggles and knives. “The demons can’t hide from the infrared goggles at night. These knives are not regular knives. Its blade is plated with an old sword wielded by a Nephilim.” “A half-angel?” Amelia asked in shock. “Wow. Have you met one?” “No. It was ages ago.” Dane turned to her. “Just like werewolves, they age slowly, five hundred years old and longer.”

Her skin was warm, her pulse quick under my thumb. "So you want me even more attached to you?" She didn't answer, but her fingers tightened on mine. That was all the permission I needed. I retrieved the small blade from my medical kit, the one I kept for ritual work. The handle was worn smooth from decades of use, and the edge was sharp enough to split skin without resistance. "This will hurt," I warned her. "But only for a moment." I drew the blade across my palm first, watching the dark ichor well up from the cut. Demonic blood looked different in the orange light. It shimmered with an oily iridescence, like oil on water. Then I took her hand and made a matching cut across her palm.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

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.

He collapses at my feet, limbs spasming uselessly. Their line breaks. Their screams erupt into chaos. Daemon barrels into a group of three, slamming one into a tree so hard the trunk cracks. Blood sprays across the snow as he rips the spine out of the second. The third tries to run—Daemon drags him back by the leg and tears his head off like it’s nothing more than cloth. I’m barely aware of my own movements. I’m a storm. A living blade. A fury that bares its teeth and does not stop.

That was the only mercy in the moment, and it was a thin one. Celeste angled Hellebore a fraction higher. Not a threat. A declaration. Ares’s eyes dropped to the blade and lingered there, as if he could not decide whether it offended him or fascinated him more. “You are standing on mortal ground with a weapon in your hand and an aura that should not belong to you.” Celeste did not lower the sword. “And yet it does.” The gold in her eyes deepened. The electricity in her hair brightened. The sand beneath her feet shifted again, deepening the concavity by another inch.

The big drow yanked on the chain and swung it to the side, sending the blade towards Otheric. The young drow ducked and the blade merely shattered the chimney he was hugging. Without much effort, Nymgos spun the blade around again, keeping Minos and Rei at a length's distance. Anybody who dared to move, Nymgos would toss the blade against them, and pull it away, and spin it up again.

“The Knife of the Heavens.” The words sent a sharp, cold chill down Daniel’s spine. His head snapped up just as the elder reached beneath his robe and unsheathed a blade unlike anything he had ever seen. The celestial blade shimmered like molten gold, pulsing with divine energy. The moment it was drawn, Daniel felt it in his soul. This was no ordinary weapon. This was something crafted to kill things like him. “A death by this blade will sever his existence completely,” the elder stated. “No rebirths. No resurrections. No cycles. If we strike now, the entity will be erased forever.”

Didn't want Thrakos to dig into that. "Then you'll need a ride. But first," Thrakos's tone dropped, "you'd need the Hell-blade. A sword made by my father's own hands, strong enough to gut a God down. If you want to kill my brother, you'd need the sword.” “Yeah," I mumbled as I clutched my belly tighter. “But eat now, plan later." The sweet smell of baked bread wafted through the air, greeting my nose. I turned, scanning the stalls for the source of the smell as my stomach growled louder.