Magic Fantasy Guns Novels & Stories

he warned as he placed his hand on a lever. I froze in place, fear making my stomach drop. Damion stood next to a foreboding weapon. It looked like a giant crossbow, but instead of being armed with a single or even two shots, a line of at least twenty bolts ran down the riser of the bow. At its side, it was equipped with a belt of hundreds of silver arrows. "One twist of this lever and you can kiss your pathetic mongrel pack goodbye," Damion said triumphantly with an evil smirk that made my blood boil.

I believe this is one of the lamest jokes on the planet. I walked to the other three men outside the door of my room. I checked if they still have a pulse on their neck and their nose if they are still breathing. Actually, what I was using was a gun that wasn’t loaded with real bullets. The bullets were actually made with magic that has the power to make someone unconscious and immobile for a certain amount of time. “But it was still thanks to the Dragon King that we are able to counterattack these men today. If not, one of us would have been wounded by now.”

she said to him sharply, as she backed toward the doorway. “Think again,” he growled as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver gun, similar to the one that was used to shoot me. At first, he pointed it at her, and she looked pissed by the gesture, but then he whipped around and had it pointing straight at my head. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight an entire house of witches; they were powerful beings and even a vampire's magic was no match against the magic of a coven. He cocked the gun and grinned.

Equipped with all the necessary weapons, Magnus, Lara, and Alex set off towards the forest under the cover of darkness. Each carried a variety of blades, crossbows, and silver-tipped arrows, knowing they might face creatures lurking in the shadows—beasts and entities that regular weapons couldn't harm. They also brought along vials of wolfsbane and a few precious potions gifted by the pack's healer, meant to strengthen their senses and protect them from dark magic.

(Calla's POV) The freeway stretched out in front of us like a strip of black glass in the moonlight, trees crowding in on both sides like guards observing us. Our SUV moved smoothly along, a gentle hum of engine and metal. The rear seats were stacked with weapons: gleaming swords next to matte-black rifles, boxes of ammunition, vials of silver, charms and talismans Freya had made us bring. It was strange to have remnants of war littered across hot woolen blankets and coffee cups, but it was the kind of world we had come to live in, a world where guns and ancient magic were fighting the same war on the same side. Rowan was behind the wheel.

Turned. For a breath, Killian saw a face beneath the hood — pale in the dim light, eyes burning gold-amber. And then the chain sound came again. This time from behind. Two Wardens stepped out of the dark like wraiths, masks gleaming, moving with perfect coordination. One carried a crossbow with a loaded bolt of silvered steel; the other swung a hooked chain designed to snag and pull prey off balance. Killian’s magic flared. Shadows leapt to his hands, solidifying into a jagged blade that gleamed black.

Of course they noticed this, and their retreat quickened. Marcus suddenly reached behind him and pulled out two guns from his back pack. It was somewhat different from the others–sleeker and heavier. He stepped out slightly from the alcove, planting himself between Maya and the witches' direction. Then he aimed at the witches clustered near Sienna. Three of them lifted their hands to chant a spell, but the bullets were faster. The first shot struck a witch square in the chest. She didn't even have the time to scream. Her body convulsed, then exploded into a violent burst of black dust.

They roll forward crates that have never before existed in any pack arsenal, enchanted blades Lyra forged with her own hands, brimming with the remnants of Morwein’s stolen power. Gasps shudder through the warriors. “These weapons,” I explain, “can cut through corrupted creatures… through ghosts, phantoms, and the dark spirits that serve the shadow rising against us.” They stare at the crates like they’re full of venom. A younger warrior whispers, trembling, “magic is forbidden… isn’t it?” “Magic is dangerous,” I correct. “But so is pretending it doesn’t exist.” I bend, lift one of the blades, the steel cold and humming. Lightning cracks across the sky in silent acknowledgment.

This time my heart quickened like crazy. “Oh my God...” I exclaimed, breathless. In front of me was a room (no, scratch that) a convenience store replica full of — what can I say — ammunition, firearms of different sizes and calibers, daggers, boxes upon boxes of bullets, and gadgets that I have no idea what they are used for. My mind immediately registered two words: danger and death. Why would the Fancy Pants Club store weapons inside the chateau? What are they for? And why?

"This particular rifle is an older model, it makes use of elemental bullets that the marksman mage can fill with their elemental magic." The drillmaster took a silver bullet from a box in his pocket and placed it inside the rifle, cocking it. He then aimed at the target at the end of the field and concentrated. The carvings along the rifle's body slowly glowed red. When the whole length was aglow, Drill Sergeant Robinson pulled the trigger and released a red beam of light that hit the target which burst into flames. "Woah!" Dorin said in amazement, "That was some reaction coming from such a small amount of magic!" Upon hearing this, Drill Sergeant Robinson looked at Dorin, an eyebrow raised.