Novel & Cerita Holy Grail War

Myan shifted uneasily on his seat which was located at the front row, giving him an eye-to-eye contact with Signor Gosbald, the long bearded dwarf. "The special forces ascribed to unearth the causes of the Century-long war have pegged the cause of the conflict that lasted for roughly a hundred years on y'all - the Necromancers and Inyangas, Elementalists and Tofras, too and for that reason, to keep all of Wabrook and the world safe, we will be going through series of activities quickly." A warm wind blew into the Chamber of Duties upsetting a few blue, spiral binded documents that were held in Gosbald's thin hand causing him to go silent as he reached to the ground for it.

A story was once told of a man who beat the Nephilims of the North. It was quite a famous story amongst the knight guards and state guards. It was back in the days when Slejj and Alvatrone were second rank lieutenants, battling for each other to see who would become the next commander of the Independent States. King Higo, the current king at that time, alongside his fellow ruler Hashi had arranged for a ceremonial tournament. A competition to see who was worthy to vie for the role of the next Commander.

I was dumbfounded, and I didn't understand why the Warriors didn't support each other against Rogues but slaughter each other. Elias clenched his fist. "Because they want to compete for the top spot. As I said, this is no longer a contest; it's more like a real war, and only the winner is the last one standing. Moreover, in the process of fighting with Rogues, warriors will kill them and steal the silver fangs that are worn around their necks. By the end of the third day, whoever is alive and has the most gamblers becomes the winner. So the warriors would hide in the forest to save their strength, usually until the last day they showed up and slaughtered each other."

I pick up some mud from the ground and let it run through my fingers, allowing the descending mud to calm me down. “Gravlin Valley was not a simple stride. You think it was easy? I lost friends there too, people like you and I. Soldiers” I tell him “We faced the metal men and the hordes, I know what it feels like when the creaking of their gears echo across the field. And don’t forget we all fought in the Long War before all this? I mean for love of Providence, we all fought here against the Persians in the Long War didn’t we? Even if Captain Gilderscrowns did betray the principles, are we not all still part of the 17th Legion” I stare him in the eye hoping to bring my point. He then replies

The war room was a ghost of its former self, a place now filled with the profound silence of a final, unyielding resolve. The maps were rolled up, the strategies memorized, the orders given. The last war, a brutal, uncompromising clash of two worlds, had reached its climax. Amara and Dante, a formidable partnership forged in the crucible of betrayal and loss, were a single, unstoppable force. But now, they were not just fighting for an empire; they were fighting for their family. The son, a secret for three years, was now a reality, a reason to live, a reason to fight, a reason to die.

"If we don't know which one it was, I'll just kill all of them then." "You can do that?" Holly whispered. Dagon smirked. "I'm one of the Four Horsemen as well, I can be just as deadly at my brother." "Are you War?" Holly asked. If he was as strong as Death he had to be an important one. "No," Dagon frowned. "War is an odd one. If Death has found you, War is not too far away. But I won't let them near you. Just trust me." "No," Holly replied. "I barely know you. For all I know, you could just be trying to trick me."

Grief isn't a storm, it's a slow tide. It doesn't crash; it seeps. It winds its way through the cracks in your armor until you're hollow, until even your heartbeat feels borrowed. And yet, I stood at the center of war. We were days away from the Conclave, the long-awaited summit where every supernatural faction, once divided by history and blood, would gather to form a united front. Witches, fae, shifters, hybrids, and even a few ancient vampire clans who had turned their backs on the throne all would be there. If we succeeded, it would be the beginning of a new era. If we failed, it would all end in fire and ash.

“You can’t change that.” “No,” Erelah admitted, “but we can stop him from realizing it fully. That’s what this war is for. A distraction. A smokescreen.” “You’ll kill him if you must,” Cassiel added. “But do it slowly. Carefully. Let Nihareth make the loudest noise. You move from the shadows.” The rogue turned his face toward the altar, black eyes gleaming faintly. “He won’t be easy to break.” Cassiel smiled tightly. “He wasn’t, the first time either.”

No, the war between Eclipse Howl and Crescent Moon is on. Only it is not being fought on the battlefield...

“Never let the Dark Blood smell the scent of souls. They are the gatekeepers of the Abyss.” She lifted her gaze, staring straight into Martha’s eyes. “What if the gate was opened from the inside?” The wrinkles on the High Priest’s face twitched. Blue veins bulged on the back of her hand gripping the scepter. “There is a traitor within the Silvermoon Clan?” Eira slid her dagger back into its waist sheath. “Rhoderick declared war before a hundred thousand people, vowing to seize the Dark Blood sacred relic.” “High Priest. Now that things have come to this, will you finally tell me what this so-called sacred relic truly is?”