Oblivion Golden Saint Armor Novels & Stories

Eryx’s voice was a low, vibrating growl of Lament-Steel certainty. He stood beside me, his violet-black stardust nebula condensing into a suit of Obsidian-Iron armor that seemed to absorb the silver light of the Loom. He wasn't looking at the machine; he was looking at the First Thread—a massive, vertical pillar of silver-oil that stretched from the bottom of the abyss to the heights of the Centennial Sanctuary.

Now he only had to deal with that gnome thief and he was sure to get away with this scot-free. While it wasn't possible to examine the stats of a player's weapon and armor without the player sharing the details, it was possible to identify the gear's grade based on the glow that the item gives off. When Kirou had passed by the group of players earlier, intentionally or not, the mage had paid very close attention to the armor on Kirou's body and realized that it was giving off a faint blue glow. This signified that the armor was rare and that caused the fire of greed to sprout within the mage's heart as it thought about the ramifications of a solo player possessing such armor.

Golden light pulsed from within like a second heartbeat. Valerian’s swords whispered free. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. The Shadow Blades fanned out. Then the coffin exploded. Shards of marble flew like shrapnel. A man rose from the ruins. No not a man. A god. Taller than Valerian by a head. Hair like molten gold cascading to his waist. Skin that glowed with inner sunlight. Eyes pure, blinding gold. He wore armor of white gold that looked forged from the sun itself.

Silver Swordsmen can project their Battle Force onto their weapons and cause them to discharge different types of sword sparkles, with the length of the gleam demonstrating the Star position of the fighter. With respect to Gold Swordsmen, they can accumulate their Battle Force to execute went assaults. Past that was the degree of Blademasters, who could project their Battle Force onto anything from blossoms to pieces of turf and use them as invulnerable heavenly weapons to annihilate their adversaries. Sword Saints, be that as it may, were more similar to legends. Not much was been aware of them, however it was said that they can use something in accordance with a "space". There were somewhe

"Your sister is too famous, so some people tried to infiltrate in her house in the past. Sainac feared that someone would try to attack her, so he personally created a defensive spell. Only those who your sister gives permission will be able to enter the house terrains. Of course, someone as strong as me can enter forcefully, but it wouldn't be easy." Golden relaxed as Swordmad said that, what Swordmad told him had sense. Then, Golden concentrated and started to circulate all his Origin Qi to form the Water Battle Armor. The water started to appear from his hand, but instead of taking any defined shape like before, it began to cover Golden's body. In a few seconds, Golden's body was entirely

"The rogue elder who vanished during the Great Purge. You are three hundred years too late to save this girl's crown." "I am exactly on time," Gideon replied. He slammed the base of his black-steel staff into the dirt. A massive wave of violet static electricity erupted from the impact point, traveling beneath the feet of the phalanx. The heavy silver-and-white shields didn't just rattle; the liquid moonstone forged into their armor began to reject the Council's command, the metal turning white-hot and forcing the soldiers to drop their defensive lines with cries of agony as their hands burned.

He immediately stretched his palm with his hand and the young girl’s above the semblance armour. Great-grandmother nodded with a quick smirk, brought out a blue-fire opal knife out of nowhere. A smooth slant cut on their palm which both the young girl and Flavius slightly grunted then the blood from the cut slowly dripped onto the Red-blooded armour laying under them after a deafening silence took over the large hall as the Humanes there were waiting for an outcome from the Red-blooded armor then suddenly the red stripes on it glowed for a brief moment enough for everyone to see. Most Humanes in the room were relieved. Knowing Flavius was not a bastard for if he was it won't glow.

“But you’re trying very hard to.” Massive black gates start opening ahead of us and the estate rises out of the darkness slowly, headlights sweeping over towering stone walls wrapped in ivy blackened by rain. Massive windows glow gold against the storm, warm light spilling across perfectly manicured grounds that stretch endlessly into the night. Armed security stand beneath covered walkways, shadows with guns tucked beneath tailored coats, while fountains glitter beneath marble statues that probably cost more than everything I’ve ever owned combined. It doesn’t look like a home, it looks like the kind of place where powerful men bury bodies beneath, a fortress dressed up as luxury.

The familiar silver glow returned to her eyes, but her gaze bored straight into the three commanders with unflinching certainty. “Hold my hand, Lawrence,” she whispered, heavy with sovereign authority. “Let the over‑mark’s light judge your vanguard’s hearts. Whoever has been corrupted by the Temple’s runes will bleed on this altar.” I laced my fingers through hers. The carnal and mystical link exploded; a thread of pure gold burst from our joined wrists, snapping like a luminous whip down the aisle and wrapping the three men in a dome of revealing energy. For three agonizing seconds, the light hovered over their armor. Then, as it touched General Lorcan’s plates—the officer in charge of the

And it's built on cliff like terrain, with enormous jagged rocks jutting out at every angle I look. "Welcome, welcome." My attention snaps back to the task at hand at the sound of that enthusiastic voice. When I turn, I stumble upon a heavily built man. His skin is a rich dark chocolate. His hair is a luxurious cascade of dripping curls reaching his shoulders. He's dressed entirely in white sportswear. Joggers and all. Rows upon rows of gold jewelry hang from him. Even his fingers aren't spared. "Samson." The man spreads his arms wide, never moving from his regal golden velvet seat beside a large S shaped swimming pool.