Inverse Sword Mad God Novels & Stories

"The Silver Vow? You mean... the one he used to butcher them fifteen years ago?" "It didn't just 'butcher' them, Kendrick. It erased them. That blade was forged to sever the connection between a marked soul and the Inverse Moon. Without that sword, you aren't fighting mere wrewolf but fighting creeps that can't easily die with silver." Mom stopped at the edge of the gazebo, her shadow stretching across the floor. "And right now, that 'key' thinks I’m one of the monsters it’s supposed to kill. If I can't hold it, we're sitting ducks,” Malcolm mumbled.

The pressure of their gazes was familiar and pulled at her instincts to stand tall in front of them. When Maddie turned to face her opponent, her breath hitched. That steel rod of confidence she was forced to maintain in front of her pack, weakened slightly as she gulped. Jason wasn’t a small man, his body as carved as the other warriors even if his strength didn’t stand up to the Silver Moon training. However, he became more daunting with the vicious weapon in his hand. It was scythe like and gleamed as it caught the afternoon sun, flashing its sharp edge like a beacon to ward off any idiots who dared to approach him. It was a scian mhór, like Jess had told her. Its curved blade was good fo

His immense power surged, radiating in all directions. “Why bother? You’re indeed very powerful, but if you make me your enemy, you might regret it,” Adrian said indifferently, his tone devoid of courtesy. Madi's gaze grew icy. Adrian’s arrogance was unmistakable, and if he continued like this, he was clearly courting his demise. “Heart of the Sword!” Madi’s terrifying power ripped through the heavens. His long sword shattered the void, striking like a giant azure dragon, brimming with immense strength.

I said, my physical voice raspy and exhausted, stripping away the terrifying, synthesized acoustic filter of the suit. A collective breath shuddered through the Vanguard. Cord let out a booming, chest-deep laugh that echoed off the high peaks of Iron Crest. The seventy-two-year-old Master Forge pushed his way past Torin, walking right up to the terrifying black armor. He slammed his massive, heavy hand against the shoulder plate. The kinetic sink instantly ate the blow, making no sound. Cord just grinned wider. "You didn't break it," Cord noted, his golden eyes shining with absolute pride.

I gasped. Lunar Eclipse was more of a pack of mercenaries. No one knew the real names of the pack members, as they all had some sort of code name. The Alpha of the pack was known as Shadowstrike. Shadowstrike was considered the ultimate warrior, with skills that a normal werewolf didn’t possess. He could strike his opponents down with a single blow, but it wasn’t just because he was strong. There was a rumor that he could expel some sort of energy in his attacks that could knock someone down without ever touching them.

The way she had smiled in her sleep, as if whatever she dreamed of brought her joy. Solas clenched his fists under the water, his nails digging into his palms as anger bubbled up inside him. How dare she make him feel this way? He was Solas, the banished god of the moon, powerful beyond comprehension. And yet here he was, his thoughts consumed by a mortal woman, a woman who had no idea of the power he wielded or the darkness that surrounded him.

"But if she can easily defeat him, then why is she doing this? She's clearly up to something." "I don't know what it is but we just have to keep an eye on her. I have a bad feeling about this." At some point in their duel, Madaline and Ducroft were pushed back. The god looked exhausted, using his halberd to stand. He was also covered in cuts, his golden blood forming a puddle on the floor. Madaline raised her rapier and licked the blood off it. "Don't tell me that's all a war god can do?" She provoked, extending her rapier to him.

I barely had time to gloat before I was hit with the whirlwind that was Ogun, I was ashamed to say that I was bested that fateful day, the war god’s brass and iron swords flashed like the wings of a dragonfly as I was driven back from the smithy’s out to the skies of Ire as I clumsily wielded Oshe trying hard to avoid getting beheaded. I pushed the angry deity back with all my strength, granting me a few moments respite; making good use of that moment of breath I summoned lightening and hurled enough tons to level the hill of Ire on its master holding the lightening for as long as I could.

The God growled loudly and launched himself through the air, his claws extended like knives. Ivan held up his sword in a defensive position and held his ground when the God landed, swiping at Ivan like a cat. Ivan summoned another sword that was smaller and used it to swipe at the God’s stomach. The metal crumbled into pieces after contact with the God’s exterior. “Impossible…” he murmured, dropping the hilt of the now defunct sword. “Do you still think I will be on my knees in the end, mortal?” The God was Ivan’s superior in almost every way: size, strength, and experience. However, the God lost out on one crucial thing: determination.

is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished. When he finished bathing and getting dressed, he went to his secret armory. It was a bedroom inside his bedroom, it was inside the wardrobe hidden here a safe the size of a bedroom. In this room of his are all kinds of guns, blades, and other improvisations that he uses for his missions. In the middle of the armor, there is a large table, there are compartments and in each compartment has explosives like frag grenades, flash bang, and smoke grenades. There are also some different types of blades that he use. On the right side of the armory, there are the rifles M16, M4, AK47, AK74, Berreta A