Glass Sword Novels & Stories

The glass didn’t shatter with a spectacular ring; it gave way with a dull, wet pop that felt horribly final. The heavy gold band of the Vane crest ring drove straight through the amber interface, the sharp edges of the crystalline display splintering beneath the raw force of my downswing. A violent cascade of blue sparks erupted from the ruined console, casting frantic, erratic shadows across the cedar-paneled walls of the library before the entire dashboard died, plunging the rear of the room into a deep, heavy dark.

It shattered, splitting apart like glass under pressure. For a moment, everything froze. Then I saw it. My sword, it was glowing. A soft, fiery light danced along the edges. Alive. “What the hell…” Aegon said behind me, his voice low. He stepped forward, examining the remains. His brows furrowed deep. “This dummy is built with carbon fiber,” he said. “That’s not supposed to happen.” He looked at me, something hard in his eyes now. “Jules… what was that?”

My fingers are on my chin as I crouched and looked at it. The cover or the sheath was silver with a few pints of gold, I don't understand the engravings etched on it. Because of my curiosity, I held it and released it from its sheath. Unlike other sword, its blade was bluish and silver, the handle was wood in color and the cover was glass. It was not as heavy as it look. I lifted it up and swayed it... Imagining I was a samurai fighting some bad guys. I chuckled.

As long as he survived the upcoming thunder tribulation, the Oculus Blade would be ranked top among all immortal weapons! Severin was incredibly excited by that thought. He took a deep breath, suppressed the joy in his heart, and stared intensely at the figure of the sword embryo floating in front of him. The original crimson Oculus Blade that carried the divine flames and bore the rules of fire had taken on a copper hue, with six golden filament-like lines swirling around it like dragons. It emitted a piercingly cold and terrifying sword intent.

Isla quickly took out her mobile phone. Cynthia did not respond and kept observing the glass smashed by the hammer. She guessed that Isla was pretending to be calm. She knew that some glass was made of composite materials, and the hardness was very high. For example, the glass used by the glass warehouse could not be smashed by the hammer. However, the glass was very thick, and the glass on the window was less than one finger thick, so it was impossible for it to withstand the continuous strikes. In other words, the replaced glass could not bring 100 percent safety.

Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss. Each strike landed with a thud-thwack-thoom, sending tremors through the troop's warriors. The troop's hearts raced as the violent zing-ting-zap of clashing daggers filled the field. The savages of warriors, fueled by fury and loyalty, clashed in a frenzy of arms and teeth. The ground grew slick with blood, the earthy smell mingling with the metallic tang of steel. Jack Wolf stood firm, his Moon-whisper spear shining with a soft, ethereal light. He parried Eryndor's strikes with a precision born of desperation, his movements a blur of speed and strength.

“What...? How did that get here?” Seraphina’s voice trembled as her eyes widened in horror. There, beneath her bed, lay a golden sword—polished, untouched, almost glowing. Its blade shimmered like sunlight on water, and the sapphire in its hilt seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. It was magnificent, dangerous, magnetic. She’d never seen anything like it in her life. The sword seemed to call to her, pulling her in with invisible strings.

I walked past a gauntlet that crackled with electricity. Then, I stopped. In the back of the room, almost hidden behind a display of ceremonial daggers, was a simple, vertical case. Inside was a sword. It wasn't gold. It wasn't diamond. It was made of a pale, translucent metal that looked like frozen smoke. The hilt was wrapped in gray leather, worn smooth by use. It didn't hum. It didn't glow. It just sat there, looking dangerously quiet. "Ah," Kaelen said, coming up beside me. "The Ghostblade. Or, as the Old Poets called it, Silentium."

The heavy slug flattened against the invisible barrier, dropping harmlessly to the floor. "She's right," Vane cursed. "It's a kinetic shield. We can't break it." Saoirse slammed her palms against the glass, unleashing a torrent of violet fire. The flames washed over the barrier, but the Aether-glass simply absorbed the heat, shimmering with a blue counter-resonance. "Tristan," Saoirse gasped, pulling back, her hands smoking. "Two minutes. I can't melt it fast enough." Tristan stared at Vespera through the glass. The Grand Duchess was watching them with the detached interest of a scientist observing rats in a maze.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”