Nico Sword Novels & Stories

I wonder who he is calling. Stoic jumped down from the desk, floating down to us. He grabbed Nate pulling his shirt off. I jumped out of my chair wanting to protect him. Nate shook his head at me again. I stood frozen as I watched Stoic create a sword of fire and slice Nate's wings clean off. Tears streamed down my face.

The moment she heard the commotion, she stood up. Without a proper examination, she glanced at me and declared, "I'm an OB-GYN! We have to perform an emergency C-section immediately, or the baby could suffocate!" With no disinfection or sterilization, she took a paring knife and sliced open my belly. Blood gushed out, drenching everything around me. Even though my eyes were closed and my body was unresponsive, I was fully conscious—I felt every bit of the pain. I felt her hands digging around inside my abdomen. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

The white-haired and white-browed young man had unsheathed his long sword. It was a strange long sword that was as clear as jade. One flank of the sword was the cutting edge, and the other flank was a sharp sawteeth-shaped edge. The blade was long and narrow, and it looked like a beam of silver light when it shook. Every time it shook, a beam of light shot out from it like a fierce tiger coming out of a box. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

’ everybody assumed impatiently. Tension of the crowd was aroused in alarm, their hearts raced with unwelcoming anticipation. Finally, a figure emerged from the huge waves as a victor, the sword of Eryndor– Eryndor, exhausted but triumphant, his Conch shell still clutched in his hand.

On the pavilion floor lay a sword carved with a dragon, and standing on it was the man who had shouted. He stooped slightly, breath ragged; his eyes were bloodshot, bulging as if they might pop from their sockets. Through gritted teeth he thought, 'Xiu Jian is a damned wretch! I can’t even burn his sword!' Indeed, the trembling, furious man was Huang Fu, and the blade beneath his boot was the Sacred Dragon Sword. He had tried to set the sword aflame—yet not only did the flames refuse to take, the fuel he poured seemed to be absorbed and vanished, drying as if swallowed by the metal itself.

"Battle raged on across the continent, until finally, Markelus faced off with Eon. He drove his sword to the tyrant's heart, and killed him. Henceforth he became known as the Godslayer, and his weapon, the-" "Sword of the Godslayer." Minos swung his arms sidewards, like a musician that just delivered a heartwarming ballad. "So you're not really after my father, you're after the sword." "Yes." "You could have just said that." "Where's the fun in that?" "The only one who had fun in this room was you." Cassana glanced at Rei, who gave her an affirmative nod. "I hope you're not planning to be a bard, because you are terrible at it."

Too long. Suddenly Nico was there, grabbing my wrist. Not hard—just enough to freeze me. “Too slow,” he whispered. “Too soft.” Then he took the knife from my hand and plunged it into the man’s thigh. Deep. Clean. No hesitation. The scream echoed through the room. I stumbled back, breath ragged, heart racing. He had done that without even blinking. “You wanted to be more than a pet?” Luca said, walking past me. “Start acting like it.”

He looked at Lixien and touched his silky hair. “Your Majesty, do you need to poison this humble servant of yours?” Lixien giggled and sat on her seat again, near the man. “How amusing. A sword… can be a man. What’s your story, Mr. sword?” Mr. Sword closed his fan. He wasn’t shocked to know that she already knew his identity and shook the fan in front of her. “Why would I say that to you? Oh, and by the way… give me the antidote otherwise, I’ll perish.”

But he also understood it. He gave a small, resigned nod. The ritual began. Two combatants. No weapons. Only fists, blood, and the truth of legacy. They cleared the chamber’s center, torches flaring higher. Niccolo stepped forward, stripping off his coat. He was built like a boulder—thick arms, brutal scars, a nose broken more times than Sophia could count. A born killer. “You sure about this, princess?” he sneered. She pulled off her jacket and kicked off her boots. “I’m not a princess. I’m your reckoning.”

Alberto huffed out a laugh, a wide grin on his face as he clapped Matteo on the shoulder. “Make it creative. Give us a nice show” I said to Nico and watched Matteo turn ghastly pale. This was going to be fun. Nico studied the tools speared out, his lips thin in concentration. He picked up a long knife, sharp enough to plunge into Matteo's chest; Nico dropped it and went for the chainsaw. Matteo’s fingers trembled. The vein in his neck throbbing madly. Nico began to advance towards him with a look that promised slow, painful death when Matteo said the words that froze the entire room.