Moon Breathing Sword Novels & Stories

There was also the mysterious red dress. As for the black sword, when Philip was trying to control it, he discovered that the sword was called the Lunar Sword, which contained the power of the lunar star and was forged from the core of the lunar star. Not to mention other spoils, the dragon viper’s whole body could be seen as materials, and even the grade-nine crystal nucleus in its body was also a big haul. As he walked on the yellow sand, Philip noticed that flying was prohibited in this place. The prohibition would probably be lifted after getting out of the range of the blackout zone.

The way he’d said goodbye without saying it. Pain surged through my chest, and the light responded. It hardened between my palms, forming an edge, a hilt, and a blade of pure lunar fire—the Moonlight Dagger. When I opened my eyes, it glowed like a piece of the moon itself—white-hot, shimmering, alive. Lyria exhaled in awe. “Selene… It’s beautiful.” Beautiful. Deadly. Mine. I tightened my grip around the hilt. The blade pulsed in response, syncing to the beat of my heart.

With the inexhaustible sword light, he cut the place hurriedly where the blood had fallen. "Jingle! Jingle! Jingle! Jingle!" A series of sparks burst into the air. The sound of metal clashing was endless, like rain hitting banana leaves. The sword light was cut clearly in the air, but it was like cutting steel, and there were always sparks. Like ripples resulting from stones being thrown into water, a looming figure was gradually cleared by shaking. "Meow! I'll bite you to death!" The crazy and enraged Evil Moon was fighting faster and faster. At the beginning, he had just produced a series of white shadows in the air; white lightning continued, and in the end, the virtually invisible white

Moonlight surrounded us, racing through my veins, eager to please if only I knew how to coax it to do my bidding. “Come on.” I hissed. I pictured a broadsword, one perfectly balanced yet sharp enough to carve through bone. The dagger in my hand began to shimmer. The soldier I hadn’t managed to wound swung his blade at my head. I ducked, rolling to the side to avoid them both. Gritting my teeth, I poured magic into my weapon. I nearly sobbed when the blade began to grow, morphing into that of a sword. There were delicate carvings throughout the metal, shaped like moons and stars, galaxies from other realms.

she explained, trailing off when she grabbed two large spell books from the top of the pile. As soon as Harriet pulled out the books, she exposed the artifacts hidden in the lower parts of the chest. I froze as my eyes landed on the glowing silver sword. Then my whole body started to tremble, and my eyes filled with tears. "You've seen it before," Nova said as if I needed a reminder. "It's the Moon Blade. We took it from Marlene's house." "I know what it is," I choked out. Harriet frowned in confusion. "Aria… what's wrong?"

Couldn’t stop this. The leader raised his sword high, the blade catching the moonlight. And then— A horn split the night. Not the rogues’ call. The Blood Moon’s.

The Blood Moon Key circled beside it. Lucien's Shadow Key continued hovering between the opening doors. The winged warrior watched in silence. "What are you doing?" Orion shouted. I smiled sadly. "Finding another way." The Shadow Dragon's eye narrowed. There is no other way. I lifted the Sword of Eclipse toward the heavens. Moonfire erupted around me. Golden light mingled with silver flames, forming a radiant pillar that reached into the clouds. The Crown of Luna glowed brighter than ever before. Every relic answered my call.

The Hunter. His body was wrapped in black armor laced with silver threads that shimmered under moonlight. At his back hung two swords forged from obsidian and celestial steel—known as twin fang breakers. His face was hidden behind a mask that bore the crest of the Moon’s Eye: a sign of ancient judgment. He stopped at the crest of a ridge and stared down at the glowing borders of the Obsidian pack below. “The Moonbreaker rises,” he murmured. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—hooded, feminine, voice low.

The light between them dimmed. “Lucien…” Her voice was a whisper. “Don’t blame yourself.” He shook his head violently. “You don’t get to say goodbye.” Her lips curved faintly. “It’s not goodbye.” The mark flared once—bright enough to paint the ruins in silver. And then, as her breath left her, the light withdrew into the air, spiraling upward like smoke. The moon above caught it, bent it, and sent it back down in a single narrow beam that fell across her face.