Muramasa Blade Marvel Novels & Stories

No Alpha could bestow this. No mate could earn it. It came only from the flame, and from the legacy that refused to be silenced. Mama Oya stepped forward and drew something from beneath her cloak. A blade. It wasn’t steel. It looked like obsidian, carved from volcanic glass. The edge shimmered red and orange like it was pulled from lava. “This blade was made from the last forge of Hollow Moon,” she said. “Carried by your father into exile. It was never used. It waited for this.”

Thane muttered. Zeta scowled. “She was here.” Mama G smiled thinly. “Impossible. Scarlet is under watch.” Scarlet’s heart shattered at the next words. “Blade,” Mama G said calmly. “Blade is watching her.” Scarlet pressed a fist against her mouth to muffle the sound that almost escaped. Blade. Her supposed protector. Mama G continued, “He is doing this out of passion. He wants revenge for his rogue brothers. The Lycan was among those responsible...long before he became Lycan. Blade hasn’t forgotten.”

I raise my broadsword, slashing through the magnificent blade with a burst of my raw alpha power, dissipating his arrogant image into a cloud of harmless purple smoke. The heavy blade of my broadsword arcs through the air, humming with a brilliant surge of golden-silver alpha energy as it cleaves straight through the center of Mercer's glowing projection. The magical construct shatters instantly under the force of my strike, bursting into a swirling cloud of sparkling purple smoke that billowed toward the vaulted ceiling before evaporating into nothingness.

The wind screamed through the whale’s ribs, a banshee’s wail that drowned the scrape of my blade against stone. Three nights in the Unbound’s belly had taught me this: ash choked the stew, lies choked the air, and Mara’s eyes never left my back. She found me in the skull’s shadow, sharpening a stolen dagger. The obsidian edge caught the firelight, fracturing her reflection into shards. “Elder Yrsa,” she said, flipping her own blade in her hand. The name was a knife.

161 Zara's POV "Oh god, Zara! I'm scared for you." My fake sobs came to a halt as I heard an equally jarring fake gasp on the call. "How big is the knife? Is it a katana? Or a machete?" The mockery in those words pierced my ego like the tip of an obsidian blade. When I say obsidian blade, I remember reading once that it is the sharpest blade in the world. One can only imagine how deep the tip wounded my ego.

When Jacket was providing cover for him, Jim had already started forming a mystic technique, channeling all his spiritual power into the blade. In a moment, Jim's sword underwent a bizarre transformation. The entire long blade was now fiery red, flames engulfing it. The flames resembled lava, continuously dripping from the blade like flowing blood. Jim's momentum drastically changed; he looked like a Shura returned from hell. He stared fixedly at Sebastian, the flames on the blade reflecting in his pupils. For a moment, he truly seemed like a Shura returned from the abyss. "I'll take your life, in memory of my brother!"

For a moment, he felt like he was God. While the robotic 2Pac was trying to land a punch on Mark’s body, Mark activated the laser sword feature on his suit. When the furious energy sword emerged out of the suit, it looked like a medieval double-edged sword made of molten hot lava. Mark brought the laser sword down on 2Pac’s head. When 2Pac’s arm came up to block the sword, sparks flew. Some sparks flew in Mark’s face, burning his chin and nose.

No one present—not the three bewildered thugs, nor the whimpering leader, Blade—had clearly seen the move. Skylar Vance’s hand, small and delicate, looked utterly frail, yet it had crushed the muscle and bone of Blade’s thick forearm with casual ease. The sound of splintering bone was relentless, a horrifying, staccato crack-crack-crack that merged sickeningly with Blade’s uncontrollable, animalistic shrieks. Under the weak, sputtering light bulb, the scene was an absolute nightmare.

"Thought you could use proper equipment." He opened the case. Inside lay two curved blades made of meteor silver. "They're beautiful," Tamara breathed. "Beautiful and deadly. Magic is great, but what if it fails?" Derek picked up one blade. "These will work when nothing else does." They moved to a clear area. Derek showed her basic forms. How to hold the blades. How to move with them instead of against them. "You're a natural," he said after an hour. "Most people take weeks to get that fluid."

And on a night like this when he was finally free from the shackles he had been put in by Rya, he was a living monster, death cloaked in human flesh. For the first time in months, I finally set eyes on him. He had become a shadow of himself, looking wild and haggard. And the way he smiled, he was like a broken man, one who had nothing left to lose, willing to take the world down with himself. He clutched tightly a certain blade in his hand. It was different from the rest. There were engravings on the blade, like runes that made it completely different from other kinds of blades. I had never seen its kind all through my years of living in the SilverFang pack.