Magical Warriors Novels & Stories

"Pux says that it was my love that brought her back and that the Brintohar opened up even more magic within me. Is this true?" Respin's face remained stoic in his expression as he stared at Rhychard. "All the faerie real has some sort of magical ability, each race with their own unique power, even the Warriors of the Way, although ours is mostly centered upon the skills needed for battle. With you being human, I am unsure what powers may have been within you that were brought out." Rhychard rolled his eyes. "Always with the human insult."

he assured. He left, not wanting to talk about the matter. On the full moon, Jared already took his position and I was forced to sneak out, going to the place I had asked Jared to prepare. The thing is, I had asked Jared to prepare and train my personal army. They think I don't have royal men in the palace but the truth is, I have fourteen thousand loyal soldiers waiting for a command. I had asked Jared to send them the command and slowly they began showing up, night by night, it started with a hundred, grew with a hundred and fifty and soon it grew to a thousand men as they all answered the command.

Felix turned on his heel to leave, but before leaving he gave one last warning. "Remember. I'll be watching you. " With that said, he left. Viktor leaned forward in the chair where he was sitting, and vomited. ♦ ♦ ♦ The warrior priests, Paladins and Clerics as manifestations of the divine intervention of the gods themselves on the earthly plane, regarded the Magi who practiced their arcane arts, made potions and wrote scrolls as little more than Warlocks and Sorcerers.

Instead, the disciples of the Divine Martial Sect were eliminated. They couldn't even react in time. If they wanted to use their magic treasures to protect themselves or use their magical powers, they would be a little slower. They would be killed by many indestructible ancient warriors and eliminated one after another. "The reason why these ancient warriors are so powerful is because they have absorbed the strength of a million-year-old Soul King. All of them possess strength that is at least at the fifth or sixth stage of the Nirvana Realm. One cannot underestimate them!" Someone's expression changed drastically after realizing something.

And even though magic was spiritual, it was required in high amounts, in highly purified and sustained amounts to be able to affect the shadow warriors for a start. It was why Margo needed Freya in her spiritual form, not one governed and distracted by physical senses. It was why she was grateful to whatever had made Leonarya call back the warriors when the latter had first sent them to the pack to retrieve Emma. If her old friend had let the warriors loose on the pack then… Margo didn’t want to think of what would have become the fate of the Blue moon’s pack.

But they acted like excitable puppies stacked on top of each other. At least ten of them stood outside my door. All staring at me with hopeful, desperate, sparkling eyes. I blinked slowly. “This is a cult.” “No,” a young warrior said quickly. “We are enthusiastic supporters of your artistic gift.” I rubbed my temples. “It is not a gift. It is magic. Unstable magic. Potentially dangerous magic.” “We accept the risks,” someone said proudly. I blinked at him. “Your bravery is misplaced.” Another warrior stepped forward and clasped his hands dramatically. “Please, princess. My room looks like a sad barn.”

But it was the five standing figures that stole the breath from my lungs. They wore the remnants of Mistwood armor, scorched and bloodied. Their faces were pale, their eyes vacant and glowing with the same faint, bloody crimson I'd seen in the mages' magic. They moved with a stiff, unnatural grace, like puppets on strings. They were dead. Warriors from Adrien's former pack, from his parents' time. Raised and animated by the Crimson Sun's vile magic.

The weapon that had been meant for his heart missed it by a beat and the king collapsed. "Protect Your Majesty!" One of the warriors screamed and they rushed at her. She didn't even have to think about it. Magic pulsed from her like a dark detonation, punching into the first wave of warriors and ripping their hearts from their chest. They dropped around her like flies but the next wave rushed at her. Her skin grew hotter and hotter as she danced between them, her magic a lethal whip that twined around her. She ducked beneath one swipe and came back up, spearing the warrior's heart with her magic axe. He dropped and another punched out from behind her. She spun and wove between them but then

The outer doors — heavy iron plated with oak — were cracked inward, smoking from whatever had slammed into them. “Wardens don’t use explosives,” Carter muttered. “Then who does?” Killian asked. Carter’s smile was grim. “People who aren’t afraid to break the rules.” The doors gave way with a splintering groan, and figures poured in — half Warden, half mercenary. The Wardens were cold and precise, their mirrored masks unreadable. The mercs were loud, brutal, hacking their way forward with cleavers and hooked blades. Killian’s magic surged to his hands without thought, shadows boiling up from the floor and coiling into serrated tendrils. He lashed out, slicing through the nearest merc’s weapon

I shouted loudly, my words echoed by the roar of the warriors. Half of the enemy forces had been wiped out, but they kept coming like an endless wave. The black wizards fired dark magic from afar, trying to push back our forces. Amidst the attacks and evasions, I was nearly cornered several times—three magic attacks nearly struck my chest, but I managed to dodge them with a swift spin and a claw slash that cut through their attack paths.