Fingerslayer Blade Novels & Stories

Blaze had given her this small knife back at the Phoenix cave, an alternative to using her powers in a fight. She had rarely used it since Alessia, as battling Alessia with a knife could have been risky. "Astralys!" Arabella snarled, deflecting an attack and driving her blade into an undead jugular. It sizzled, and he screeched, vibrating nonstop. Arabella eyed the knife; it had never sizzled before. It was strange that it was happening now. "That is a silver blade coated with wolfsbane," Sandro commented, eyeing her.

More than one alpha is after me and is ready to capture me, according to another growl. My back is struck by something large and powerful, and I'm knocked to the ground as claws rip into my shoulder. Lucas is the one on top of me, about to bite, when the aroma of his body strikes me. He chuckles as he grinds his hips against me, ripping at my clothing until it is barely there and grabbing my skin with it. My hands start to evolve into claws as a result of the agony, which also causes my nails to grow longer. Lucas roars in astonishment as I slip out from under him and resume racing as I roll over and slash at his muzzle.

Mika reeled holding a hand to his bloody nose. "You're going to regret that you scum" He said through gritted teeth, swiping at Boro with a back hand, a move that he then followed up with an upward slash. This one Boro recognized, Thrush Threads A Nest, it was a form normally used as a catalyst to kill a foe. He was setting Boro into position for a finishing blow.

There was scar tissue there which looked like it had not been allowed to heal properly. "Don't you care if he gets an infection?" I wondered, looking at the open wounds. Hearing my voice, the alpha's eyes opened as he moved slightly into the eyes. His eyes glowed with the ocean blue color as his eyes darted from Dr. Dawson to my scared eyes. He suddenly bared his teeth and growled low into the back of his throat, it was a warning sound that made me flinch, but I was aware so I didn't take the step behind Dr. Dawson like I dearly wanted to.

Despair wrapped around me like a shroud, but even then, my bloodstained fingers didn’t let go of the shard. SHUNK. A silver blade descended from above, cleaving through the darkness like a bolt of lightning. In the blood-scented air, I smelled Klaus’s familiar scent.

I thought it’s because she can’t look at him like this, but it’s something else entirely. Carden struggles to move as he barely comes to a lopsided sit, his hand slides out and the tips of his fingers graze my knee, a shiny silver blade hidden beneath his flat palm. I look him dead in the eye as I slide the small weapon up my sleeve the moment Brit screams at me.

Yoel's eyes blazed with intensity as he bellowed. Whoosh! In a flash, his wrist flicked in a blur, his blade's movements a whirlwind of shadows that coalesced into a spectral blade, its presence icy and lethal. The phantom blade whirled with an almost magical speed, cutting through the combined assault of the five attackers with ease. It tore through their defenses, leaving a deep, terrifying slash on each of them. The elder from the Calnan family hesitated for just a moment before he crumpled to the ground, his body gruesomely split in two, blood gushing out like a fountain.

Watching his flanks collapse, his squad get picked apart, with the calm patience of a man who'd already factored in these losses. Because I was exactly where he wanted me. "There you are," he said. He was tall in person. Taller than Valtherion. Lean, angular, with the economy of movement that spoke of decades of combat. Gray at the temples. Pale eyes that reflected the moonlight like mirrors. A long silver blade in each hand, not ornamental. Working weapons. The edges hummed with something that made my shadow bloodline recoil. Anti-bloodline steel. Forged specifically to cut through ancient power.

The steel blade was no longer humming with a blue electrical current; it was coated in a thick, oily black smoke that carried the unmistakable, suffocating clicking sound of the First Soul Eater. Laila brought her left blade up to block the strike, the sapphire fire of her steel meeting the black mist of the naginata with a horrific, screeching sound that sounded like a metal file scraping against her skull. The pressure was immense, the black smoke actively trying to crawl down her silver blade and infect her hand, but the runic lines on her knuckles flared with a bright white heat that burned the mist into a white ash before it could touch her skin. She pivoted on her heel, her right blade

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.