Dragon Blood Warrior Novels & Stories

"No. I only injured one hand; I still have one hand to fight. Commander, after I die, please remember my name to tell my parents; my name is Drake, the only son of the Alger family." After saying that, he transformed into a wolf and rushed into the enemy's circle; after a few seconds, that thin body disappeared as if it had never appeared. The corners of my eyes were red, but I stopped myself from crying. War and sacrifice are required; the precious thing is the fierce spirit of the warriors; as long as that spirit is maintained, Blood Ocean never fails. The gun in my hand ran out of ammo; I gritted my teeth and stuffed it into my belt, then pulled out a dagger again.

“Nightmares: a level of power long forgotten because of the rarity of people with this level of power. But that was what the Black Dragon was. And like other Mystic Path Users at the Nightmare level, he had his own title: the Black Warrior. Because Mystic Path Users were fundamentally different from New Types, they didn’t earn titles based on ordinary animal forms because their power was beyond that. They could summon flames and ice and could manipulate the elements based on their affinities. And the Black Warrior was no different. Legend says that he had the ability to manipulate darkness, and his power was called the Darkness Set. The Darkness Set was a set of armor that Black Warrior coul

Flavius comments. "Werewolves much like dragons are a warrior race and spend most of their lives perfecting the art of battle. Some could say that werewolves are even more dedicated to battle than even us dragons. So it is of no surprise to me that James can hold his own against Soren. Especially when you take into consideration that he is an alpha," I explain. "I knew werewolves were warriors of sorts but I'd never have thought they'd be so talented. Most of the stories I've about them talks of their savagery," Flavius responds.

Bacchus answered. “Why?” I asked again. “WHY?! YOU’RE ASKING WHY?! HE KILLED OUR BROTHERS! HE DESERVES TO DIE!” Pegasus shouted again. Bacchus just look at him and he shut up. I sighed. “Black Dragon just fought back. It was one versus many.” I quietly said. “It wasn’t his fault that your members are no match to him.” “Exactly. That’s why Boss is angry. He killed them all without being shot even once.” Bacchus bitterly answered.

Not just any dragon. They were dragons too—every one of them born with wings and claws, fire in their lungs. But he was the Warlord. The King they had once feared and followed not because of birthright, but because of power. His wings could darken the sun. His roar had shattered mountain passes. They had called him king not out of respect, but survival. And they had forgotten. Until now. Sera didn’t scream. She just stood there, arms still outstretched, as if her body might shield them from a god.

It's a beautiful sight. "Wow," Arianna lips hung. Brigid cleared her throat continuing to read. "Pyrrhos, by contrast, was a realm of fire and might, governed by the Dragon Goddess Drakora. Her chosen, the Ouroboros, bore crescent marks on their necks, with silver hair and eyes as bright as molten flames. These warriors commanded the power of fire, bonded to majestic dragons who soared through blazing skies.” Arianna heart stopped. What the hell?!

“Aurora and a dragon warrior’s daughter.” Drake stepped forward then, not aggressively, but deliberately placing himself at Elaina’s side. “And she did not come alone,” he said calmly and the four pairs of eyes turned toward him. He had let her speak because the was her battle but that didn't mean he wouldn't support her. Elaina’s voice strengthened by his presence, she glanced at him gratefully and said “This is Drake, he is the dragon Xavier captured. He has taken his estrus to build a powerful weapon that will reign terror on everyone”

Bones cracked loudly, some warriors didn’t even get the chance to scream before they hit the ground. I stopped running and stared at her in shock. The Moon Goddess…what the hell was Doris becoming? Behind me, Drake groaned in pain. I turned sharply toward him. His arm hung at an unnatural angle, twisted badly from where I had shattered it earlier. Blood soaked through his clothes, dripping steadily onto the dirt beneath him. The fear in his eyes was pathetic. “Please…” Drake choked out, trembling violently. “Please don’t kill me.” I walked toward him slowly, blood dripping from my claws.

The first challenger stepped into the ring, a massive wolf with silver fur and eyes like ice. Draven’s jaw clenched. “Silverclaw’s heir.” I glanced at him. “Can you beat him?” He looked down at me, gold eyes burning. “Watch.” He shifted in one smooth motion, fire and smoke consuming him until the dragon-wolf hybrid stood where the man had been. Black scales shimmered across his flanks, and wings unfurled like blades of flame. The crowd fell silent. The Silverclaw heir lunged first, but he never stood a chance. Draven met him midair, claws striking, fire roaring. It was over in seconds, the heir flung across the pit, unconscious before he hit the ground.

I shout, my voice hoarse. The sound echoes, swallowed by the ongoing chaos. The heavy door bursts open, and a Draven warrior stumbles in, then flies backward, his throat torn open before he hits the ground. Ronan steps through the smoke. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. He’s drenched in blood, his eyes glowing the deepest gold, his wolf bleeding through the human mask and his claws drip crimson. His chest heaves, shirt shredded, body a battlefield. The scent of rage and devotion rolls off him in waves.