Inferior Magic Swordsman Novels & Stories

"That sounds perfect." The unforgiving ground offered little comfort, and with a grunt of effort, I pushed myself to a sitting position again, the movement sending a dull, throbbing echo through my injured shoulder. "And besides," I said, looking over at him, "you can't be that bad of a swordsman. You're a good teacher of magic."

“You’re stronger than you think.” Nyomei’s stomach twisted, but she rose anyway. “Thanks,” she said quietly, nerves prickling under her skin. She walked toward the gate that led out to the sparring ground, each step heavier than the last. Across the field, her opponent was already grinning as he warmed up. Wiry, confident, and brimming with kinetic energy. He bounced on the balls of his feet, fists flaring with dull-orange sparks. “Your opponent,” the announcer said, “is Orin Zarrin. Mage class. Energy Burst magic.”

Boro and Mika stood in the sand circle as the two finalists. The animosity between the two was so thick in the air it was almost palpable. Boro stood in the ready form, Crane In The Water, standing perfectly balanced on one leg, his sword held out before him. Mika stood in a form that Boro didn't recognize. Boro prided himself on knowing all the forms of classical, and modern, sword art, the fact he didn't recognize this one was puzzling.

I didn't even blink. I kicked his heavy broadsword aside like it was a child's toy and drew the surgically thin skinning knife from my boot, the blade catching the firelight as I twirled it between my knuckles. The motion was casual, practiced, the kind of muscle memory that came from growing up in the gutters where the only law was the one you carved into your enemies yourself. "You high-borns always overcomplicate your magic," I sighed, watching the manic confidence drain from his face as I stepped closer. "A pulse is just a pump, old man. It's plumbing."

After five years of being forcibly institutionalized in a mental hospital by my parents for “rehabilitation,” I awakened the “Slap System” skill. One slap, a million dollars deposited into my account. Another slap, my combat power skyrocketed. Just as I was thoroughly enjoying my slapping spree and preparing to leap over the asylum walls to break free, my parents suddenly arrived to take me home. The moment I stepped through the front door, I saw my adopted brother Atticus Hawthorne, eyes reddened, holding my fiancée, Cassandra Vaughn, in his arms. Meanwhile, my real brother Roman Montgomery was locked in a dog cage, bitten and torn by vicious hounds, covered in wounds, and breathing his

The man was elevated above ground level, he gasped for air desperately. “What is happening?”, the lady cried out, “Someone tell me something, please my child, my child speak to me…” The man struggled against the invisible hold, Cedric lifted his sword to the sky and admired it for a moment. It was forged with magic, long and it’s blade was as sharp as a lion’s tooth with the ability to cut through bone. Then in a clean swipe he cut through his neck sending his head flying, blood splattered everywhere even on Cedric and the old lady.

At this point all eyes were on the two than it happened everyone was left mouth open Celeas wings were finally out, unlike her father's black ones her were a silver gray probably the combination of his black ones and her mother's most likely withe onse she then picked her swords up from the ground and attack him, their fight was impossible to keep up with, the only thing they could see was a golden light looking like a falling star moving from one place to another " they are insane..." Salma the war was now only between Celea and her father while the others stood by and watched their fight, Draco than went up and picked Dereus up knowing Celea cared a lot about him he wanted to protect him,

Then he disappeared, but before he did he scattered the seven magic sword around Falusia and dropped a blue necklace he had containing all of his powers to a blue planet in the distance. The seven swords are the Tsunami sword recognizable by the wave on the hilt, the Shadow sword recognized by the ghost, the Earth Breaker sword recognized by broken earth, the Sun Saber which is represented by a sun, the Speed sword which is represented by a rabbit, the Phoenix Wing sword represented by wings and the power sword represented by a bull. The swords are activated by pressure, if you squeeze it tight you will activate the swords special powers. If the swords, the cloak, and the stones are found an

I raise my broadsword, slashing through the magnificent blade with a burst of my raw alpha power, dissipating his arrogant image into a cloud of harmless purple smoke. The heavy blade of my broadsword arcs through the air, humming with a brilliant surge of golden-silver alpha energy as it cleaves straight through the center of Mercer's glowing projection. The magical construct shatters instantly under the force of my strike, bursting into a swirling cloud of sparkling purple smoke that billowed toward the vaulted ceiling before evaporating into nothingness.

The man had made for a colorful spectacle, his red robes flapping while his blade writhed with pale green flames, but everyone knew there was no true magic to it, and in the end his fire had guttered out and Bronze Yohn Royce had brained him with a common mace. A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared t