Holy Sword Novels & Stories

I wanted to sit down a little, but he held me back. “Look,” he pulled out from behind the collar of his shirt a small smooth gray stone with dark gray veins, held in the paws of the frame and hanging on a long chain. - What is it? - with surprise, she took a stone in her hand. In appearance, I would never have distinguished it from ordinary pebbles. - This is calcium borosilicate - howlite. An ambiguous mineral should be noted. This, Leah, is an artifact, it helps to disperse the excess of my power in space without causing harm to others.

Her intense gaze, hardened by countless battles, was tempered by her unwavering loyalty to Somerland. To Elysia's left stood Gareth Swordbane, widely feared and respected as the Sword Demon. He was a tall, imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. Known for wielding a blade with unparalleled mastery, Gareth’s skill in swordsmanship was legendary, his reputation as a ruthless opponent striking fear into the hearts of all who dared challenge him. His sword, an ancient blade etched with runic symbols, was strapped across his back, and his eyes held a piercing focus that spoke of countless battles fought and won.

She purses her lips in displease seeing everyone is leaping aside. 'Why in the hell would they leap away as if it's a vulture?! The sword is aimed straight and they could have just stepped aside from its way! Why would they do backflips and all? Is this a gymnastics class or what? And what's with that dude? Why is that guy breathing heavily as if he just escaped from a hunting lion?' She notices only a few guys just took a step aside and stood straight calmly. THUD! Her eyes follow the sound and see Parthib stopped the sword by holding it in his bare hand. The sharp edge has cut his palm resulting in bleeding.

Francis said with a small frown on his face. “I mentioned it. You must have forgotten,” Ericson replied in a dismissing tone as there was no reason to be discussing what they were gradually heading to. They both stopped talking and the world around them froze but for their hearts which began to race when they saw Sarah lift up a sword above Harold. The sword which was long and without doubt, sharp, glowed and glistened with the light that bath it. The sword was made of silver. The other students were in a pile of each other, everyone of them in one way or the other, unable to help Harold and even themselves.

Whoosh! The huge soul sword that was fighting against the three Divine Void Warriors completely swallowed the red light. The grayish-black sharp sword acted as if it came from an abyss as it broke through the attack and defense of the first three Divine Void Warriors. The sword pierced through the bodies of the three Divine Void Warriors within the blink of an eye. As the three huge soul swords pierced through their bodies, the first three Divine Void Warriors instantly turned into red specks of light and floated in midair.

It was filled with copper, silver and gold royals, all to help supply them while they sought out allies. After Boro said his farewell and accepted the money, he quickly made himself busy checking out the two pack horses. He wanted to give Littume and Lord Jetir space for there farewells. He saw Jetir give his son a firm hug and share a few words with him. Then he saw Lord Jetir unwrap the cloth and from it pulled out an ornate brown and gold scabbard. The scabbard was too thick to belong to a rapier, and too wide to be a katan, the long slightly curved, single edge style sword that Boro himself used. This one was as wide as the width of his palm and had two edges to it. A broadblade, an olde

✦ ✦ ✦ The Warlord Eternal did not look like what she had expected. She had expected immensity something that bent space around it, something that made the room feel wrong. What stepped through the air of the sanctum looked like a man in his later years, silver-haired, with eyes that were the same ember-red as Kael's and a face of absolute, weathered calm. He looked at Seren with the dispassionate assessment of a craftsman examining a piece of work that had gotten out of hand. "The oracle," he said. His voice was what she had expected low, vast, something that resonated in the walls. "I see why."

The sword light of his Storm of Swords spell was nearly snuffed out by now, leaving only his Unsullied Sword to resist the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword. Never mind that the Unsullied Sword was ranked beneath the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword. The fact that the Spirit of the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword was taking part in this battle meant that any resistance by the Unsullied Sword was futile. The blade of the Unsullied Sword was beginning to shake and the white light covering it was gradually dimming under the weight of the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword's cyan light.

We said goodbye and I headed to the address Nick had texted me. As I walked into the shop a friendly gentleman greeted me. “Miss Clarke, Mr. Thorn said to expect you.” “He did,” I sounded surprised. “I have the bottles ready for you.” We walked over to the counter, and he showed me the bottles. First was Chateau Montelena chardonnay and the second was a bottle of Macallan 18-year-old double cask whiskey. I nodded, not having a clue. I watched as he boxed the bottles up and placed a gift ribbon around each of them.

“How much?” Deacon put his hands up. “Celestial weaponry is not sold, Theo. The weapon is fated to a specific owner and that sword was destined to be yours.” Theo nodded, pretending he understood the meaning of it. Deacon pointed to the scabbard with a holster fit for a dagger in the chest. The moment Theo touched the scabbard, the sword shrunk to its original size. Convenient, he thought, as he sheathed the dagger into the scabbard.