Epic Battle Fantasy Lance Novels & Stories

"Go! I signaled my pilot to fly the girl and the medical team away, and I remained behind to deal with the soldiers. I had already mindlinked my beta and asked him to send the military force in case a war were to begin. I am a Lycan. I am the strongest of all, so killing all those men singlehandedly was a piece of cake for me, but still, I chose to involve my military. I knew sending back the corpses of his men would only humiliate him more because he would be left wondering why his a hundred and something men were defeated by a single person. "What brought you to my kingdom?" I asked as more of the troop trooped closer to me.

We knew we needed to put our grudges on the side and work together to win. In a frenzy of fierce clanks and swings of weapons which whooshed left, right and centre around me, I caught a glimpse of Thersar, who was boosting up the spirits of Nexelex, who seemed to have run out of steam and enthusiasm to carry on with the fight. The next moment, I saw Thersar falling on his knees. The flash of light revealed that one of the Macabantran demons stole the chthonic lance from one of our fallen warriors and swiftly stabbed it into Thersar’s back, piercing him through to his chest. Everything happened in a second. I couldn’t follow every action as I was overly focused on fighting off the demons who

she declared, her voice ringing out across the desolate plains. Liam, his gaze fixed on the approaching horde, echoed her sentiment with a grim determination. "We fight." The robed figure let out a raspy sigh, a flicker of something resembling gratitude crossing its purple eyes. With a wave of its hand, a surge of energy erupted from the ground, forming a series of jagged obsidian spikes that rose to meet the approaching tide. The battle commenced, a chaotic clash of light and darkness. Evie unleashed blasts of energy from her staff, pushing back the obsidian creatures with each hit. Liam, a whirlwind of steel, danced between the snapping claws and razor-sharp teeth, his every strike precise

“You must fear losing your claim to the throne.” “I fear nothing.” That was a lie, because behind me stood Gina and for the first time in years… I had something to lose. Cassian lunged again, and this time Lena intercepted him. Her claws slashed across his chest. Silver-black blood sprayed across marble. Cassian hissed. “Vale Witch.” Lena smiled coldly. “I’ve been called worse.” The princess fought beautifully, ruthless with no wasted movement. Cassian clearly realized fighting both of us directly was no longer advantageous.

he continues, smirking, “you want my help, don’t you?” I hesitate. “You know her better. You’re friends with her. You know what she likes.” He claps his hands once. “Unbelievable. Darian McAlister, Prince of Lycans, Warrior of a Thousand Battles, has come to me for dating advice.” I groan. “Just…stop.” “Do you even know what a picnic is?” he teases. “Because if you think it’s just fighting outdoors, we’re going to have a problem.”

I smiled at him. “As friends? I can do that. Just text me a day and time, okay.” My reply seemed to excite him. His handsome smile showed off his pristine white teeth. “Yeah, I will do that. Are you going somewhere? Let me get the door for you.” Lance ran to open the packhouse doors for me. I stepped in front of them just as the door opened wide enough that I could see Brax leaning against a bike. Where did he get that? “Oh, the dragon prince.” Lance jogged down the steps after making sure I was out of the way of the door. “Hey man, we haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Lance. It’s nice to finally meet you.” They shook hands.

Beside him stood the pale, floating spirit of my father, Lord Vane, tethered to the Sovereign's staff by thick red chains of blood-magic. "ATTACK!" Bane roared, drawing his silver battleaxe. The three thousand resistance warriors surged down the slopes of the crater, clashing head-on with the undead horde. The sound of metal slamming against bone shook the valley. Kaelen and I carved a path straight through the center of the battlefield. Golden and purple magic erupted from my hands, blasting undead soldiers into ash, while Kaelen’s heavy sword cleared every enemy in our path. We fought our way to the base of the giant archway.

soldiers emerged, armed with light-lances. "Lucas, take the right flank!" Audrey commanded. The battle on the salt-flats was unlike anything in the 130,000-word history of the North. It was a war of extremes: the blinding white of the salt vs. the pitch-black of the Void-Capes. Lucas fought with a savage, one-armed grace, his prosthetic light-arm clashing against the Southern spears. Every time he struck, the violet-and-gold sparks created miniature sun-flares.

Aedric was among them, his transformation effortless, golden fur bristling in the early light. Then, with a single cry—“Advance!”—Lillian led them into battle. The Clash of Steel and Fang The battlefield exploded into chaos. Lillian’s forces crashed into the enemy like a tidal wave, steel meeting steel, claws tearing through armor. She moved through the fray with deadly precision, her blade slicing through the first soldier to stand in her way. House Durnath’s warriors fought hard, but they were not prepared for the fury of an army that had nothing left to lose. The lycans tore through their lines, moving faster, stronger than any human force.

They almost seemed unreal as they fought, like they didn’t quite belong in this world. But the rogues fought dirty. Strike and retreat, draw them further in, closer to the border. Test their formations and slink back when they hit harder. It was an infuriating game of tug-of-war. Lance was everywhere at once—shifting, striking, tearing through the enemy line with a viciousness I’d never seen from him before. His speed was unmatched, his sheer reckless intensity terrifying to see. He fought like a man with something to lose. But the rogues would not break.