Excalibur Holy Sword Novels & Stories

For a short while each morning, the citadel felt almost peaceful. Adrian stepped into the open courtyard with his sword resting against his shoulder. The stone beneath his boots was cold, still damp with the night’s lingering frost. Thin mist curled along the edges of the training grounds, giving the towering walls a ghostlike appearance. He set the sword down carefully in the center of the courtyard. The weapon was enormous—nearly as tall as his shoulder and heavy enough that most soldiers struggled to lift it with both hands. Adrian lifted it easily. The familiar weight settled into his grip like an old companion.

"Clan Sköll? Det er ikke mulig. Sköll-klanen forsvant i min fars tid. (That's not possible. The Sköll Clan disappeared in my father's time.)" The sword disappeared from his neck as did the boots from his back. Taking these actions as permission, Brand slowly turned over and sat up. He first saw the large warrior draped in multiple furs and with an ax in his hand and a longsword strapped to his back. The man's black eyes bore into his, daring him to make one wrong move so he could play with his favorite toy and remove Brand's heart from his chest with it.

"We don't need to go to Lin's house. Let's go to my place so I can change. This is a minor wound. I can handle it myself." Ludriev took her spirit sword she had previously put on the side of the arena, and followed him without anymore words. Spirit sword was forged in a special method for those who reached a certain level in swordsmanship. The sword was unique and believed to be sacred, as it had its own spirit, which, if it didn't feel a strong connection with the wielder, they wouldn't be able to use it. Therefore, usually a sword spirit only had one owner and vice versa.

Kabir laughed loudly, slapping Abraham's shoulder. They were about to turn their back on her when he saw that Zaviar had looped his arm around her shoulder and she was laughing at something he had said. His hands bawled into fists and his jaw clenched fiercely. His green eyes glared at his hold on her. "Something seems to be burning!" Kabir whistled from besides him. Abraham directed his glare at Kabir now who immediately schooled his expressions and posed to be innocent. Taking long strides, he went back to the parking towards his Lamborghini which his Dad had just gifted him as his birthday present and reversed out of the building.

Every time he explained something new to me I was left speechless. I feel like I’m in a movie. How is any of this real? "Third, holy water is a given as well. It would be absurd to keep holy water with you at all times so this might not help you when you are outside your house but when you are at home, keep a bottle of that around you. You never know." Oh trust me, I know. "Now this may not be as effective as the crucifix and prayers because as you might have noticed already, Alexander has many powers and can probably easily avoid you throwing water at him but still keep that with you just in case.” His voice was calm and it made feel like we were just chatting about random things and not ab

’ everybody assumed impatiently. Tension of the crowd was aroused in alarm, their hearts raced with unwelcoming anticipation. Finally, a figure emerged from the huge waves as a victor, the sword of Eryndor– Eryndor, exhausted but triumphant, his Conch shell still clutched in his hand.

Michael sneered, pulling out the cross-shaped greatsword hanging at his waist. In an instant, it seemed as though a sun had appeared, casting a blinding light that made people's eyes ache. Wilbur squinted as he looked at the cross-shaped greatsword. A golden radiance adorned the large sword, so dense that it obscured the details of the blade. However, the vast power emanating from it caused a mournful hum to echo across the entire grassland. "Another divine weapon! The heritage of the Holy Illuminati is truly enviable," Wilbur commented with a sigh.

On the pavilion floor lay a sword carved with a dragon, and standing on it was the man who had shouted. He stooped slightly, breath ragged; his eyes were bloodshot, bulging as if they might pop from their sockets. Through gritted teeth he thought, 'Xiu Jian is a damned wretch! I can’t even burn his sword!' Indeed, the trembling, furious man was Huang Fu, and the blade beneath his boot was the Sacred Dragon Sword. He had tried to set the sword aflame—yet not only did the flames refuse to take, the fuel he poured seemed to be absorbed and vanished, drying as if swallowed by the metal itself.

The old swordsman and the young swordsman who helped him were flung far out of the Sect Hall. Just as Chyou Chen was about to catch up with the two, several more swordsmen started attacking him all of a sudden. the hidden swordsmen started to come out and surrounded the two in front of the Sect Hall which they had managed to break through. There were about twenty warriors who surrounded the two of them, the faces of the warriors were very familiar to Khalid. "It's amazing, I can now come face to face with the best Swordsmen in this land," Khalid exclaimed, gripping his sword tightly.

Ezekiel breathed out as he pulled the second fragment of the Sword of the Doombringer from the current owner. He pulled his sword and smiled at the level of destruction he had caused in this world. The Scythe of Death vibrated in his grip, but the power continued to flow smoothly as if Ezekiel's level of darkness was slowly catching up with the darkness that powered the Scythe.