God Of Swords Novels & Stories

Long ago, where demons are attacking humanity and trying to surpass Gods and Goddesses, a magical sword was created by the Gods. His name was Excalibur, he was a sword with a spirit, a sword that can grew with its master, a sword with an ego. Excalibur was made by the combined powers of the Gods, he possesses a power that can even threaten the life of the immortals.

He looked at me, I don't know why I found his eyes very hypnotic. I followed him and stood beside him; he looked at me and answered, “ A day before you came she suddenly disappeared. I think it is Destiny’s will. Wherever she goes I pray that she's fine, that the gods protect her as I protect her." He placed his face on his palm, not long enough he stood up. He was in a daze. "Does a katana or a sword showed to you?” he asked me while still in a daze. I grab the sword hidden, behind in my blouse and showed it to him. He seems surprised and scared. I asked, “ Why do you looked scared?

He looked like he was superior to the rest. "Suna. I thought I asked you to kill them". "I did. But there's something more important, my lord". Lucifer turned to his general. "What is..." Suna stabbed him through the chest with a blade. It cut through him easily. Suna let his body drop to the ground. My father was shocked. "The Sword of Eternal Horror. The only known God Killer", he said with a smile. "Why did you help us?", another god asked. "Help? You're mistaken. I am the God - Killer", he said. He threw the knife at a goddess and it went into her belly.

Now that he had the combined power of a four-hundred-thousand-strong army at the Divine Rank’s Third Stage and a few Quasi-Emperors, he could perfectly utilize the true power of the sword technique. Together with the unparalleled sword techniques, James’ Ancestral God Weapon turned him into a war god. As he slaughtered his way through the horde, countless beasts perished by his sword. Whether at the Divine Rank or the Quasi-Emperor Rank, none escaped death. Even beasts at the Emperor Rank could not resist his sword. Upon seeing this, the Chancellor’s expression turned grim. “What a bizarre sword technique… Who exactly is he?” He could not figure it out. He turned around and looked at the Twe

Yoana showed a peculiar look in her eyes, then quietly whispered, “Sir York, according to my intel, Mitchell is completely enraged now. “Not only is he coming here, he even invited an expert from the Shinkage Way along. “I heard that person is a true God of War. “Please be careful. Gods of War from the Island Nations are all grandmasters of Kendo! They’re hard to deal with!” “A grandmaster of Kendo from the Island Nations? A God of War?” Harvey gave a thought to the situation. “Who are you talking about exactly?” “The Sword Saint of the Shinkage Way, Miyata Shinosuke! “He’s a true God of War. “I heard that he already took off. He’ll arrive with Mitchell tomorrow.

"Now take this!" With a resounding cry, the Oculus Blade erupted in a burst of divine hues. The 3,000 laws etched upon it absorbed the surrounding power of heaven and earth, coalescing into a golden sword rain that cleaved through the encroaching darkness.

Or is it? "It’s a legendary sword. Made from the strongest material ever known, as they said that it was even crafted by God himself. The weapon that only the righteous one can wield. That true being that is blessed by the heavens and once more God himself. Powerful and mightily, that’s what they say.”

X voice grew coldly. Isreal began laughing hysterically, as he unsheathed a long sword. “It seems as if you do not understand your place. I have you surrounded, surrender and I will spare your life, as Lord Henderson will decide you fate. He will be the god to judge you.” The sword Israel held was definitely finely crafted. The Sword was hand forged as the Damascus pattern resembled a calm river. The hilt was made of bronze and fitted with gold. No matter what quality his sword was, it will still rubbish before X’s translucent blade.

A cathedral of pain masquerading as discipline. And at its heart, a table. Not for feast. Not for audience. But set with a single silver parchment. A contract. Velis stood beside it, silent and still, like a shadow made flesh. No armor now—no crown, no mask. Just tailored black, the shirt unbuttoned to the sternum, exposing a chest carved with centuries of war and pleasure both. He looked like a relic. A sin turned saint. A god that never forgot how to bleed. His eyes, twin embers of restrained hunger, flicked to Caelum’s awakening form. And then—he smiled.

And in the middle, on a stone bridge that spanned the torrent, stood Leigh’s father. Lord Valerius was a tall, lean man like a hardened sapling. He wore no armor, only a worn leather jerkin over a grey tunic. His hair was more silver than black, tied back. He held no weapon. He stood alone on the bridge, facing Gryffen’s army, a solitary figure of calm authority.