Demonic Scythe Novels & Stories

Its body rose like a zombie, locked in rigor mortis as it attempted to escape. “Filthy worm,” Samael spat, chopping it to ribbons of flesh. The gleam in his eye was murderous. He gripped his scythe, whispering to its silver hilt. The blade burst into flame. He struck the falling remains, setting them afire. In an instant they sizzled to ash. All that remained was charred bits of flesh and the stink of unholy blood.

He mustn't let his mind fall into disorder! "Soul-as-blade!" With a loud shout, an a-hundred-feet-long black demonic sword suddenly appeared in the sky. Dark clouds gathered and lightning thundered. It was none other than the third transformation of the Mystic Diabolic Enchantment, the Soul-as-blade. It was a fatal attack that used true souls as a sacrifice.

Heira paced angrily within me, and I knew any moment now, he would push out. The air suddenly went still, and an ominous silence fell among the ruins of the pack. Cold air rushed in from all sides, and strange shadows began to take shape around me. Scythe's power had increased since the last time. More larger and thicker lumps of shadow penetrated the air now, cloning themselves... more than one Scythe stood before me, ready to attack. "You called me." His voice was unusually deep and menacing, resonating like thunder in the environment. But I cared less; he could display an array of powers as much as he wanted, but he was going down today.

"What could that be? Amelia asked shivering. "The question is who could that be " Eric replied quiet unmoved by the gun shots. "It could be Derek, Samantos, Anna or anybody ". He took the fork and knife. He held the full chicken on one of the trays with the fork and cut it with the knife. He picked it with the knife into his mouth savoring every taste. "God please forgive me, holy Mart take control. Angel Micheal, son of God. I mean Angel Gabriel, the son of God, oh my fucking God, someone should just take control ". She was breathing heavily as she said the prayers.

She was prepared to jump into the fire whenever Lilith wanted her to. Alexander used his extraordinary power, which he alone possessed. The demons holding him instantly charred into tar while Alexander's entire body erupted in flames. Jordina sped up while brandishing the knife. She had never engaged in combat with Satan, so she did not want to be late to use her move.

“That’s AIDS! You’re harming someone’s life!” “I saw how your son disturbed others during the movie! He even stabbed someone with a needle! That’s really despicable, how could a child be this evil?”

How did they know we'd be here? *Lynn!* Vincent called through the link. *What do we do? They keep coming! This is not a normal attack.* Lynn groaned. *I don't kno-* Claws dug into Lynn's arms, and the wolf bore its fangs into her neck. "LYNN!" Vincent yelled when Lynn let out a scream. He ran to help her, but let out a pained howl when he was stabbed from behind with silver. He turned around and ripped the Werewolf's head off.

"We've been together for seven years. I remember coming home late one night and finding her asleep on the couch. When she woke up, her hair was a mess. She yawned as she rubbed her eyes and told me she made me soup to sober up. "That look really killed the mood, and I lost my appetite for the hangover soup she made. I suddenly realized that I don't love her anymore. She used to be my goddess, the girl I pursued for two whole years. "But now, that goddess had turned into an ordinary woman who didn't bother to care about herself anymore. But we've been together for seven years. We were classmates. Our lives are too tangled up. Breaking up isn't easy. God, what a nightmare."

Its hunger throbbed - dark, pulsing, wanting out. No. The Duskbane Grimoires were clear: the Scythe was a weapon of eclipse. Summon it under night, invite the darkness to consume the wielder's soul. A sun-weapon. Tonight, I was on my own. A metallic clink erupted from behind the practice dummies. I didn't turn. Didn't break stride. I sent a Threadbare filament behind me like a spider's web. It brushed something cold, hard, moving fast. "Ten of you," I murmured, voice low, aristocratic silk. "And here I thought the Shadow Syndicate had some pride left."

Number 50 was the rude stranger from before his weapon was the most breathtaking of all. Its stats were as follows:- Name: "Soulcutter" ‎Appearance: A dark, curved scythe with an ebony wood staff (6 ft long). Intricate silver etchings (like skeletal vines) crawl along the edge. At the base, a crimson gem glows faintly – said to pulse with every soul "harvested". ‎Stats: ‎- Damage: High melee + possible "soul drain" effect ‎- Range: Long sweep (hits multiple foes)