Life Of A Warrior Novels & Stories

I agreed and walked with him, further away from the rest of the brawling. Walking with Tanner he ambly chatted about his life. Tanner was the lead warrior in this pack. He had a mate, who was once a rogue and stumbled upon her when he was on his first ever patrol of the border. He has a pup on the way and I have never seen anybody prouder of their own family. As we got away from the warriors, we took position facing each other, now in full fighting position.

“Because one day you will meet someone who needs you to be alive, and it won't be just to beat people up.” I didn’t respond. I glanced down at my hands. They were starting to shake, but not from fear. Not from the aftermath of terror. He crossed his arms. “I’ve seen men like you on the battlefields. Burned and broken with rage.” “I’m not angry,” I said. He raised a brow. “No? Then why’d you go in alone?” I sighed. “I just wanted the noise in my head to stop.” The warrior nodded slowly. “It’s normal. Pain makes us restless. But control is what makes a warrior.”

he started, “You have to learn to face your problems. Running away from your problems isn't a permanent solution. It's only temporary. But facing your problems is a permanent solution. You have to be a warrior, okay?” I nodded with a pout. His words didn't make sense, yet they did. I didn't know why. “I want to be a warrior…” I muttered in a daze like a child. “Very good. Do you know what a warrior does?” he asked, trying to ignite curiosity in me. “Sacrifices their lives for other people?” He chortled and shook his head. “No, silly. They fight back.” I glanced at him quizzically as a question appeared in my mind.

They were Death Warriors. Death Warriors, Suicide Warriors, Sacrificial Fighters, etc. There were many names for them. But they all meant one thing – someone whose life is worth nothing to their master. Death Warriors were warriors raised up and groomed all for the purpose of giving their lives for the ‘greater good’. They were meant to slow people down, and weaken stronger foes so that others can garner all the praise that came with conquering their enemies. That was what these profound wielders were doing. They didn’t fear death. They didn’t care about their lives at all. All they wanted to do was to inflict some sort of damage before dying so that Mane and Abe would be weakened sufficient

"That has nothing to do with me." "Three years ago, he was badly injured fighting off rogues. They nearly tore his right leg off," the Elder continued, ignoring my protest. "The doctors said he would have died if not for his incredible willpower. But he's not living for himself. He's living to atone." Atone. "He goes to that lake you used to love and sits there all day. Sometimes he brings things you left behind," the Elder's voice grew weaker. "Serena, I know he hurt you, but—"

The memories of that day, the last moment of happiness I had felt as my brother had given me a hug and taken the stage, his handsome face glowing with happiness. “MysticWarriors, my pack, was a very small one and ancient,” I answered. “We didn’t believe in fighting for power, we believed in peace and kept to ourselves. It has been like that for years. We were all powerful warriors by blood but having power and strength doesn’t mean needing to exercise it. That day we were taken by surprise and were heavily outnumbered. But we fought, to the end, till each one of us fell apart but…” “But…”

It was right in the middle of the passage and from where he stood, he could see the entire arena at one glance. The Commander's room had the splendid glance of the entire ground and with just one look through the window, anybody could see what was happening outside. Laurier took one glance at the arena before he proceeded to knock at the door. While he waited for his orders to enter, he noticed a group of soldiers running down the steps with enthusiasm. Their faces were filled with emotions he was too familiar with. There was fear, zest and excitement in them and it was all because of one reason. They were thrilled to put their skills into practice in the war that would start any day from no

I couldn't be more uncertain. "Is it so hard to believe that I'm the real one?" It feels incredibly absurd to ask such a question, but all this suspicion is draining me of energy and hope. He sighs deeply, and it's only now that I notice the crease between his eyebrows from frowning too much. It isn't easy to be a warrior, to spend your life in the shadows fighting, protecting a pack from all types of threats. He walks around as if he is bearing the world on his shoulders, he probably is.

Right then, there was a lot for him to mull over. With Bertram's death, Rhychard would have thought that most of his problems would have been settled, but it seemed they were only magnified. Aradhon was still loose and very much a mystery, more people knew Rhychard was a Warrior of the Way than he was comfortable with, Buttercup was a growing witch and again without a job, and Renny needed to be announced as alive again. Why can't I ever have normal problems, like all the parking spots are taken at the mall? He sighed as he lifted an ancient desk chair and headed for the truck. He couldn't remember the last time he had a normal problem to tackle. He needed normal again, but as long as he hel

Ruby gave me a pitiful look, like I was somehow the reason she had been poisoned. "It's fine," I said before anyone else could speak. "You can take the front. I'll sit in the back." The whole ride, Ruby cheerfully chattered about food, travel spots, and fun things she wanted to do. Her energy was high, and her skin was glowing. She didn't look sick at all. Meanwhile, I was the one who was truly dying. My organs were already shutting down from advanced Wolf Dissolution Disorder. If I hadn't taken a whole bottle of painkillers before we left, I wouldn't have even made it out the door.