Muramasa Blade Marvel Novels & Stories

“Oh, Seraphim’s blade. I’d never seen this in a long long time. Seraph Blade killed many of my people. Where did you get it, my dear?” “Not telling you anything.” He looked at Lucius. “Is this the same blade given to you by your father-in-law?” What was he talking about? I watched Ryden shift and divert his gaze away, looking hurt. “I wish, but that’s what killed her. Mine is safe somewhere.” Wait. What? He has a sword just like mine? “But this blade also shapes according to the wielder. Am I right? And it’s Katana for her. She must have been trained by a great sensei.”

Blade was nearly two meters tall. His body was particularly robust and he had bulging muscles. The short-sleeved T-shirt that he wore accentuated his chest muscles, and they were big enough to rival an average woman's bosom. His bronze-colored arm muscles instilled fear in people, while his thick eyebrows and sharp eyes were brimming with might. When he arrived, he rubbed his bald head and asked Trevor in a hoarse voice, "Tell me, who do you want me to kill?"

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

The ghosts of the past whispered beneath my feet, but I had no room for doubt. Myra stood across from me, clad in black leather laced with bone. Her pale hair was matted with dried blood—some hers, most not. Her eyes burned with the madness of too many lost wars and too much stolen power. "You really think you can end this with a duel?" she sneered. "After everything we've burned?" I unhooked the Luna blade from my back and let it sing as it left its sheath. The metal gleamed silver-blue under the moonlight, thirsty.

Aurelia’s POV I could feel the tension in the air. The blade kissed Tamara’s throat. It was just one adjustment from cutting her throat clean, but she didn't look intimidated by it. Her hazel eyes were fixed on Solana, burning with rage, and the mascara lining across her eyes gave her a venomous look on her face.

"You got something to say, bastard?" Marcus, like before, was across the table in an instant, his hand wrapped around Lucien's throat, the other raised and in it was a blade made from pure chaos energy. It wasn't black like that of Roman. Rather, it was a pure white, glowing with energy. "Marcus, that is enough. Release your brother instantly." Alpha Damarus boomed with an alpha-like authority he rarely used. Marcus released Lucien, teleporting back to my side like nothing had happened.

"I want Asura's head… Urma… you lot give me that… and you'll rid yourself of my annoying presence… Until then… you are stuck with me" Kuza then withdrew the knife with a command after he made this statement. Even though Kuza's knife had just cut someone, the blade was spotlessly clean. It was as if nothing had even come into contact with it. Urma watched as an invincible scabbard appeared and Kuza placed the blade back into it. All the while that the blade was being controlled to slit Urma's throat, then to sheathing it, Kuza never used his hands. He controlled everything with his mind while sitting about thirty feet away from Urma.

Its eyes locked on me. Not hungry. Commanded. That was worse. Mara moved fast. Too fast. One second she stood between the trees. The next she was beside me, shoving a short blade into my hand. The metal was black, cold, and carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. “Cut through the back of the neck,” she said. “Sever the cord.” “What cord?” “You’ll see it when it opens its mouth.” “That is the least comforting instruction anyone has ever given me.”

After I state my own claim Mortius nods. “Then we'll proceed,” he says. One of the attendants steps forward. He holds a blade in one of his hands. It isn’t ornate. It isn’t ceremonial in the way I expected. No jewels. No embellishment. Just steel. Old and worn from ages of use. “Blood binds,” Mortius intones, “where words may lie.” The blade is offered to Damon first and he takes it without hesitation. He slits his palm open. The cut is clean.

Reaching for his side, Ymir unsheathed another blade, and in the same instant the ones in his hands vanished. I backed away immediately after witnessing the change of blades. I didn't want to rush forward with an attack when I wasn't sure of what these new blades could do. It was safe to assume that each of them possessed unique abilities, someone like this couldn't possibly face the Lycan with ordinary blades. People like him were way too proud to even think of doing so. "These blades nullify healing of any sort, do not think you'll heal back after I cut you to pieces with these blades." He educated. It was a foolish thing to do, but I was pleased he had opened up.