Oblivion Swords Novels & Stories

"Mira was the junior chief of her clan!" "Oh, you talk too much!" Caleb moved, disappearing in a flash again as he shot forward! Shocked, Terra and Deniz's eyes widened as they promptly moved to block Caleb's attack. "Mirage sword!" Terra exclaimed as he drew his sword. "Infinite blade!" Deniz exclaimed as he drew his saber. Both of them unleashed all their cultivation on Caleb right then. However, Caleb breathed calmly, "World Burial Sword—Throttle." Shunk! In a flash, the Overlord shattered the mirage that Terra's sword conjured as Caleb thrusted the greatsword into his neck!

“Sanguis Umbra... arise.” From my back, wings exploded—jagged, glass-like constructs of obsidian laced with crimson veins. The sky flickered with lightning as the blood in my veins answered my call. A hiss escaped my lips as my sword appeared—Crimson Mourning—forged in the underworld and fed with the souls of fallen enemies. The blade thrummed in my hand, alive, hungry. All around us, the wizards unleashed their spells. Lightning, flame, frost—chaotic and furious. But I moved with the grace of a phantom, slicing through the spells as I charged forward.

His younger brother. In his peripheral vision, Nicholai saw Elvious movement. On its hand, a red sword appeared. Nicholai new that sword, the sword of Elious. A sword that can takes away someone's ability for eternity. In a quick motion, Elvious appeared just infront of Nathaniel, Elious sword on hand barreling towards Nathaniel's body. But before it hit Nathaniel, someone blocked it from there.

He would destroy anyone and everyone who laid a hand on her. I rushed back into the sanctuary, with no time to waste. Walking into the artifact room and grabbing the pair of cutlass swords, I had always admired, hanging up on the wall. Both are trimmed with gold, and both are etched with the lunar phases on one side of the blade. The only difference – is their handles. One woven in white the other black. The supposed twin swords of Skoll and Hati. The sons of Fenrir. The balance in both blades was perfect, as I tested them out, rotating my wrist and twirling the blades. The sun catching the finely sharpened edges.

Moonstone accents adorned his gauntlets, greaves, and chest plate, pulsating with magical energy that resonated. In his hand, he wielded a sword forged from pure moonstone, its blade glowing softly with an inner light. The hilt was embellished with intricate patterns in Phaikón Árgyron resembling celestial constellations, further enhancing its mystical allure. As he brandished the sword, it seemed to hum with power.

Until the magic rested and the swords appeared in my mind again, but different now. The handles had become onyx in color and the blades silver and gold. They were beautiful, but more than that, they were a combination of my vampire magics as well as the elven crown. "I have them," I said. Lirle said: That is excellent. Next, think about the swords and imagine your magic becoming one with them. I didn't tell her that had already happened. I just nodded. Though I was still full of questions, a peace passed through me, and I opened my eyes.

The war raged on, a battle of power and soul, each stroke striking like a crescendo amid the storm. My trembling palm clutched Xavier's sword, a relic of power that pulsed with an energy I didn't understand. The blade became an extension of my will as the Demon leaped at me with murderous intent. The sword clashed with its opponent's blade in a dance of survival, each strike mirroring the ferocious struggle for power.

Cian watches, amused, as they stagger to their feet, disoriented and glaring at the dim cave. “Your healing should’ve taken hours, not days,” Rolan growls, flexing his hands. “What was that place?” Cian tosses him a cloth bundle. “Open it.” Inside lie three weapons: a dagger with a hilt carved from antler, its blade etched with swirling runes “Storm’s Claw,” Cian calls it; a sword forged from blackened steel, its edge shimmering like starlight. And for Elowen, a recurve bow made of polished yew, its string woven from silver thread. Arrows tipped with jagged obsidian sit in a quiver.

With controlled movements, he rolled the map into a tight cylinder, the parchment whispering faintly as it folded into itself. His gaze shifted toward the far corner of the office. Mounted securely on iron hooks fastened to the stone wall were several weapons. Livion approached them. His hand reached for one of the swords hanging there, fingers wrapping confidently around the hilt. The blade slid free with a soft metallic whisper. Livion strode toward the door and stepped out of his office. He mounted the stallion, settling firmly into the saddle. He gathered the reins in his gloved hands. With a subtle nudge, he urged the horse forward.

Emotionlessly, he pushed his hands forward, and the ten Soul Swords instantly collided with the ten light blades. All everyone heard was a burst of bang, bang, bang, like cannonballs crashing against each other. An eye-piercing light briefly shrouded the two of them, and in the next second Fane already had his palms together. After the light subsided, a three-foot-long giant Soul Sword shot out in the air toward Oliver. The others might not know it, but he knew that his ten light blades all instantly exploded into a light ball, and were extinguished after coming in contact with the gray-black energy.