Feathered Sword Novels & Stories

As he strutted forward, he was leaving trails of bloody footprints while his twelve flying swords gloated around him, humming in the air. Each sword was humming excitedly from shedding blood, and yet, each edge remained unblemished. Just seeing that sight sent countless backing off in fear before turning and scrambling just like a herd of animals. Still, there were still stubborn ones who stood in Caleb's way!

Dexter said aloud as we heard the door leading to the other sections of the mansion open. Everyone's gaze was fixed on the passageway leading to the stairs, waiting in excitement to see what our Alpha had to present. And when I was beginning to think that our Alpha's surprise was a flop, I saw the hugest scare of my life. The whole hall fell into chaos as most people screamed and yelled in fear while others like myself stood speechless and motionless. It was a man. A man whose reputation spoke for itself. It was the legendary Alpha Blade, known in Haven as The Ripper.

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.

Immediately, everyone around could sense a terrifying aura that slowly gathered in the village. “Die!” shouted Leonard. The fold of his clothes flapped wildly with the wind. With a flick of his wrist, the bladed energy transformed into the bladed energy raindrops once again. This burst of power shook the sky to its very core and drained it of its vibrant color. The attack was imbued with a strength of a thousand tons of metal. Not only that, it could even cut down thousands of opponents with a single strike. This technique was called the Flying Feather Sword Skill and was one of the most renowned martial art techniques of the Feather Peak. The points needed to learn this skill were of an ast

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.

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

She held it tightly. Serra thought it was heavy but it was surprisingly light, light as a feather. It's like she's holding a twig, very comfortable in her hands. She stared at the shimmering sword. It has a beautiful gold hilt with an intricate carved angel wings above the handle, the blade was long as her arms and it was sharp and shiny, the light bounced on it, and Serra could see herself on it like a clear mirror. The sword was like made specifically for her as it was comfortable to her hands and it felt familiar and comforting to the touch.

His green hair is flowing in the wind, and his chest is bare—the poor guy probably ran out without putting clothes on when he noticed I wasn't in bed. A blush seeps into my skin, and I brush some hair behind my ear, still clutching my blade. "Thanks." "Where did you get the sword from?" "Oh... The blade is actually-..." My eyes focus on the blade, and I blink when it shines brilliantly, returning to its feather form. Sleepy stares at the feather, which I quickly snatch to hang around my neck. "I thought the sword looked familiar. It used to belong to Azrael, or am I hallucinating? I think he used it in the fight against Fabian. It was the same sword that-..."

Others were concealed behind the towering rock spires surrounding the base, arranged in careful formations, ready to strike if necessary. “You kept your end of the bargain, Dragon,” she remarked. “Did you think I’d lie about this?” he replied. The moment her eagle landed and Gildeon stepped down, Feviel marched toward him with barely restrained fury. One of his owls leapt from his shoulder mid-flight, morphing in a flash of light into a longsword. He threw it into the air, and the blade halted a breath from Gildeon’s throat. Gildeon stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the steel.

Despite the poor illumination provided by the candle, the detailed features of the birds could be seen from all dimensions. Wait, Zita raised her candle, and its light created a little distinct feature on the image. What bird wears a sword on their waist and girdle and shoes? ‘This was no bird,’ she concluded as they came even closer to the image. They looked more like men who had wings strapped on their backs like eagles but have swords and armors. Zita’s frowned deepened as she felt all the stories that her mother had told her were false. How could her mother mistake men with wings as birds?