Greatsword Of Artoria Novels & Stories

"Jack wolf, please!" With a surge of adrenaline, Jack Wolf summoned every last ounce of strength. The spear shone brighter, its power surging through him like a river of light. Eryndor's eyes widened in surprise as Jack Wolf's grip tightened, the spear's tip pressing deeper into his chest. The dark magic swirling around him began to falter. Eryndor stood on his ground. The air was electric with the clash of steel and the scent of sweat and blood. Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss.

She looked like she was born for this, born with a sword in her hand. “Aurora is marvelous. She is born for this.” Shalom took a gulp of his water. “And you are getting acquainted with it.” Art grunted in response. To be honest, he still felt strange holding the gilded hilt of the sword. His sword shone in the moon light, pure power. Its hilt was carved with ancient words. It was beauty and strength molded to be one. It was as powerful a weapon, as it was an art. And Shalom said it was Isaiah’s, the one he had used in that battle where he had died. He had said that Théoden’s blood in them gave it more power, more glory.

We were joined soon by Anthonier and Hilra who also appeared surprised at the sight. But while Xialara tried to check for a pulse in her neck and base of her thumb. Something else caught my eye. The ruby colored gem at the hilt of the sword was now a clear diamond. No sign of red. I picked it up by its blade and examined it under the moonlight to check for any cracks or possible leakages. There were none. The red color had just vanished. My blood was gone.

His greatsword lay across the prep counter, the blade still bearing the gouge where a shield had smashed into it, the notch's edges glinting cold. "Eggs are overdone. You've got a choice: burnt or raw." He shoved a plate toward me. One egg was a charred ring of black. The other was still wobbling. He unstrapped his own dagger and laid it on the countertop beside the greatsword. The dark brown leather wrapped around the grip was polished to a glossy sheen by years of sweat and blood. "That sword's too heavy. You take this. Light. Fast. Angle's different when you're going for lungs instead of heart. Blade goes up, extra half-inch of tilt. Don't use it backwards."

asked Kariya with a smile. “Draw your sword!” screamed Luese holding up the Sun Saber. Kariya drew the Doom Giver, which he got from Lena after she beat the guardian and met Luese in the middle of the room. The Doom Giver was pure black, with red rubies and a ghost on the hilt. Both combatants moved at incredible speeds slashing and striking each other. “The Doom Giver! Why are you collecting the swords?” “It’s my part of the Grand Design.” Said Kariya jumping backward.

I don't think it's going to be difficult, considering that Arthur also always wakes up at 1 pm so there won't be a lot of orders. But why do I feel like he's going to ask me something weird? Crap, he better don’t do that. “Arthur, you can’t do it to a patient” I smile at him, try to convince him that I will be a bad errand type. “It’s okay, only me who knows it. Plus, I can keep a secret” he winks. “Asshole, go away!” I answer immediately. His laughter filled the room, he must be happy that he successfully teases me. What a jerk. Arthur opened the plastic bag and took out one orange from there, he slowly peeled the skin and cleaned it before handing one to me.

Behind the darkness occasionally emerged vague outlines of creatures and that made it look more of a scene from a horror movie. Surrounding the woman were fully armored soldiers, some of whom had their swords drawn, while others had their hands on their swords ready to remove them from their sheaths in a swing. In front of the woman stood a man flanked by other soldiers. The man was huge, taller that everyone around. He had long hair that flowed all the way to his waist like a woman's hair and beards that reached just above his neck bone. Both his hair and beards were shaggy and it made him look like he had just come from the wild. His grin revealed brown and rotten teeth and one artificial

He is undeniably great at what he’s doing. “Aren’t you going to try yours? The sword and dagger are both yours from now on, Aparryll.” I stared at the chest. “All these weapons you have right now have the blessing from different fairies, gods, and goddesses. Those are made by fine iron, gold, diamonds, and parts of mythical creatures that I hunted myself.”

It was a fine and reputedly magical sword with two sharp blade edges made in crystal and a silver white cruciform lightly covered by gold chains. “These chains will be wrapped around your hand from the beginning of your battle and will start to loosen once there are no enemies left to fight,” Mr. Napoleon informed me. I nodded my head as a response. I am completely dumbstruck and wasn’t able to utter a word due to amazement. “Wow!” Lane almost shouted. “My dear, that definitely looks like the sword of Queen Aria,” she added. “Indeed,” the dwarves’ leader cleared his throat and continued, “It does look the same because it is the real sword of the Queen. One of the first weapons I have made an

"Fitting. You were always noise in a world that needed stillness." Arthur did not answer. He tightened his grip on the Emberblade, a weapon forged of memory and fire. It was not a sword by traditional measure—its edge flickered like burning parchment, its hilt made of woven light. It pulsed with Isabella's magic, with the voice he could no longer use. He stepped forward. Vurnex grinned. "You cannot win. You cannot even cry." The creature lunged. Their collision split the sky. --- Time twisted. Light bled into shadow. The battlefield warped under the weight of their clash. Arthur moved not with brute strength, but with grace—each motion deliberate, each strike layered with memory.