Marleyan Soldier Novels & Stories

Everyone collapsed where they stood. Mara slid down the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Tears cut clean tracks through the dust on her cheeks. She was shaking, clutching the data crystal like a lifeline. “I… I’m not a soldier,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I have a family on Earth. A little sister who still thinks I’m coming home for her birthday. I’m going to die here, aren’t I? I’m not supposed to be here.”

“This one looks healthy, nice, and petite. She will serve me well in bed tonight,” one of the Lupari soldiers sneered, his disgusting voice making my stomach hurt. His eyes roamed hungrily over my bare body, and I fought the urge to spit at him. He stroked his scruffy chin, flashing a set of brown, rotting teeth that only added to his repulsiveness. “Not that one, Arzreal. Commander Kael has his eyes on her,” another soldier said, stepping forward and blocking his path. His voice carried authority, his arms stretched out as if warning Arzreal to back off.

The not–so–young guy spoke. She smiled shyly, " thanks Angel." "So, brother, tell me. How has life been in the north Pole? " Marcellus swirled the contents in his goblet, wrinkling his nose. He'd hated the smell of old bottled blood, he brought the goblet to his lips, taking a reluctant sip before speaking, "As splendid as ever. You guys should go there for a vacay one of these days, you'd love it." Marcellus said. "I heard news of how you singlehandedly destroyed the Republic of the West. How does it feel? So much blood, how does it feel to let your predator instincts get in control? It's been awhile since we'd taken directly from a human."

Just when Adalwolf was being taken to the dungeon, a soldier rushed inside the great hall and fell to his knees in front of Samael. "Lord Samael..." the soldier paused. He is still in shock that his brothers were killed as easily as they kill an ant. He doesn't know how to tell this matter to his lord. "What is it?" Samael snapped impatiently. His mind is swimming with the accusations made by the old Were man. He is not in the mood to deal with petty issues. "My lord, those Were warriors killed eleven of our soldiers. Only one came back with blood and injuries all over his skin" the soldier revealed with fear and hesitation.

I wiped the eye-slits of my mask and barked at the two Betas standing nearby in shock. A few yards away, Mara was pinned under a snarling vanguard soldier who had fully shifted into a mangled mid-form. He had his jaws locked onto her shoulder, tearing at the meat. Mara didn't cry out. She had both thumbs jammed into his eye sockets, pushing until the soldier let out a high-pitched yelp and his eyeballs literally gave way. This was the reality of the fight. No elegant swordplay. Just the sound of wet breathing, the squelch of boots in gore, and the sickening crack of breaking bone.

"If you do not see it. It cannot hurt you" Everyone has one 'soldier'... or more... that they are born with. 'Soldiers of the soul' where you know them, you trust them, but you are convinced they are your 'instincts' instead of your 'invisible friend' from long ago. They walk in the shadows and are always with you... Even when you are lost and alone, though they cannot come into the light, but they can warn you from things they are able to see. Have you ever felt like that?

Mara Johnathan is filthy and smells of death, but I don’t care. I roll into his arms and cuddle tightly against him. It’s all I can do. I can barely move as it is. I feel as if a bulldozer ran over me, and left me on the streets to bleed to death. I can't process it. All that blood, the pain, the suffering, the death. I even feel sorry for the human soldiers who had to endure that brutal battle.

"Are you really soldiers? You all appear to have abruptly quit drinking your mother's breast milk and decided to fight werewolves." The soldier lost his temper at last and fired a shot at him. The bullet went right into the side of his stomach. Marcus kept his face straight despite the pain spiraling in him. "Is that all you got?" The soldier aimed at him again but the other one stopped him and began to drag him away. "I like my tea with honey," Marcus named after them.

"But remember this: the Hallowed power you carry is tied to your emotions. If you rescue him out of pity, the light will be soft. If you rescue him out of a claim of ownership, the light will be a blade. Decide now which one you want to wield." Before I could answer, a low whistle echoed from the scouts' position. Mara was on her feet in an instant, her hand signaling for silence. From the ridge above us, the sound of rhythmic marching drifted down. It wasn't the chaotic footfalls of the Shadow-Walkers. This was the disciplined, heavy tread of Blood-Crag soldiers. "Patrol," Leo hissed, sliding down from a lookout point. "About twenty of them. They’re carrying something... some kind of machin

A total of 50 soldiers were riding through the grasslands. Each of them was muscular, vigorous, and attention-grabbing. These men could only be described with the word "robust". Even dressed in armor, one could see the muscles underneath. A man, in his 30s, with skin tanned from sun exposure, short hair, and black eyes sharp as a sword, looked at the man behind him. "Marshal, we are approaching the first village." "I know Captain."