Grandmaster Griffin Armor Novels & Stories

Arth saw the knight's ruby badge placed at the center of his silver chest armor. ‘Woah... It's my first time to see a Grand Knight. His ruby badge is so cool!’ Arth thought excitedly. The knights stopped in front of the competitors and the grand knight stepped forward. Arth could not see the face because of the helm the knight was wearing. The grand knight’s armor was quite different from the others with him. There were golden lines at the edges of his silver armor, including his helm. His posture manifested his full-blooded body as he looked at the warriors in a calm manner.

Within the towering projection stood the Grand Marshal of the High Command. He was a huge figure, in polished black armor with glowing crimson runes that pulsed like heartbeat. A heavy, fur-trimmed mantle of shadow-silk rested over his broad shoulders, and his hands were folded calmly over the pommel of a massive, double-edged broadsword. His face was obscured by an ornate, featureless obsidian visor, but the sheer, oppressive weight of his presence pressed down upon the chamber like a falling mountain. Gideon stepped instantly in front of me, his broadsword igniting in a brilliant, golden blaze of Earth Seal energy that pushed back the invading shadows.

The penthouse suite was flooded with the bright, golden light of the morning sun, the mountain wind rustling the sheer curtains of the balcony doors as if last night's violence had never occurred. I walked into the private master closet, pulling two sets of heavy tactical gear from the high-clearance racks. The Crescent Warrior armor was built for high-intensity sector operations lightweight, layered Kevlar plating embroidered with the silver crescent crest across the shoulders and reinforced with internal titanium threading to resist claw impacts. I stripped out of my rumpled formal uniform, pulling the dark tactical shirt and structured pants over my frame before locking the heavy chest pl

To him, this was his greatest bargaining chip to control me. “His words are absolute, huh?” I nodded as my fingertip gently brushed against the folded parchment hidden beneath my sleeve. “Griffin, the soldiers you trained are certainly very loyal to you.” “Of course they are!” Griffin puffed out his chest with pride. He looked as if he had already won. “So, Your Grace, stop your useless struggling. Get down from the carriage now, and we can still go through with this wedding with dignity. No one will benefit if this turns ugly.”

Agreed, he felt the boy’s presence in the room, though reluctant, was a show of an understanding, be it all too little, of what duty entails. Grunald’s lesson was very much unlike the ones before it. The first thing Kilvic noted was the absence of the girls who had taken a different route as they approached the class. The next, though not as obvious as the first, was the instructor’s garment. It was far from anything close to being considered a robe. The man wore a leather vest adorned in scales of a nightingale fish, a water demon from the vasimil sea of revindal, although, Kilvic was certain the instructor lacked such knowledge. The dull scales were known to be the sturdiest piece of armor

It hurt to breathe but I attempted to take in lungfuls of air to keep my brain alert. "You're weak, why even put up a fight when you know you're going to lose?" Griffin taunted, moving his shoulder in a circle. His once dislocated shoulder was set back into place, the sight putting me on edge. "Because you're not fit to run a pack," I could feel the warmth of my blood as it rolled down my body, "the Midnight Sun pack belongs to me." "Over my dead body," he crouched into attack position, letting his canines elongate and his nails grow into claws.

I don't have to worry about the headmistress, the gym teacher, and everyone else that hates me. Griffin leaned against the front door, his getup is sexy in his bad boy charm. White tank top, leather jacket with the sleeves cut off, and a pair of dark blue jeans tucked into black boots. He may not have my sense of fashion, but whatever he's doing works for him. My cheeks warmed, does he know what happened between me and Dell? Nah, I'm sure he doesn't. "I'm ready." He looked up from his phone, running his gaze over my attire.

the healer said. He wore a suit of armor made of silver and steel, with intricate engravings that depicted the history of his pack. The armor was polished to a shine and was adorned with symbols of his rank and authority. The chest plate of the armor was emblazoned with the symbol of the wolf, representing his strength and leadership as the Alpha of the pack. The gauntlets and greaves were adorned with intricate designs, and the helmet that he wore was adorned with a fierce-looking wolf's head.

His knife—a monomolecular blade that could cut through enhanced armor like tissue paper—traced a silver arc toward Griffin's exposed back. Only years of combat training saved Griffin's life. He spun with inhuman grace, the blade grazing his ribs instead of piercing his heart, drawing a line of fire across enhanced skin that healed even as the cut was made. But Twin B's assault didn't pause—he flowed from the missed strike into a grappling maneuver designed to break Griffin's neck with mechanical efficiency.

Gunshots ring, but none of them even touch the creature because of the shield. "That's a griffin! From the Witches guild..." I say as realization dawns on me. The griffin, the shield, the vines! "Holy crap!" I yelp. "Those two called the witches." It makes so much sense because now as the shield surrounding the griffin shatters, I can see two people sitting on its back. Both men are dressed in the uniforms given in the Guild, and one man jumps off the back of the griffin to engage the guards with various protection spells.