Obsidian Blade Novels & Stories

Blaze had given her this small knife back at the Phoenix cave, an alternative to using her powers in a fight. She had rarely used it since Alessia, as battling Alessia with a knife could have been risky. "Astralys!" Arabella snarled, deflecting an attack and driving her blade into an undead jugular. It sizzled, and he screeched, vibrating nonstop. Arabella eyed the knife; it had never sizzled before. It was strange that it was happening now. "That is a silver blade coated with wolfsbane," Sandro commented, eyeing her.

She took a deep breath and opened it gently. Inside the box laid an ornate weapon, no longer than five feet. From a quick look, Cassana could tell the handle was made of obsidian. A fine carving of wreathe with the shape of willow leaves twisted around the handle up to its arms. The upper and lower limbs, made of either holly or cedar, extended out from the handle to form an exquisite symmetrical arc that curved on its ends. A string made of sinew fiber stretched from one groove to the other, pulling the wood into shape, while seemingly emanating an ineffable hum.

The Hollow Blade waited for her there. It was no weapon forged by men, nor a simple vision birthed from fear. It was something etched into the marrow of her existence. A spectral blade with jagged, shifting edges, its body wreathed in whispers that cut deeper than steel. The voice it carried wasn’t one voice, it was many, layered, distorted, yet unified in cruelty. "You think you can wear the crown of Luna? You think your blood is strength, hybrid?" the Blade hissed, circling her in the void-space.

They’ve forgotten wolves chew through their own paws when cornered. One of the guards offers him the ceremonial blade from earlier—standard steel, worn hilt engraved with pack sigils. The priest barely glances at it. He lifts a hand and dismisses it like a king waving off a servant. He’s brought his own. It’s more of an obsidian and bone material. The handle is wrapped in something that might’ve once been human skin. The edge shimmers with old runes that seem to move or laugh. It’s the kind of blade you don’t just flay with, but you feed. He sets the blade on a silver tray beside me, then uncorks a glass vial filled with something thick and green—wolfsbane oil. It smells like death soaked in

“It’s an obsidian knife, the sharpest knife in the world.” She took back the phone and examined the same image. “Good heavens, you’re right! It’s obsidian— three times sharper than a diamond and 500 to 1,000 times than a surgeon’s steel blade. Scalpels with obsidian blades have a cutting edge of only three nanometers thick and are said to heal with minimal scarring.” “We can only see a bit of it. If this knife is large enough…” I paused. “…it will be the murder weapon. It can cut through bones if its size is perfect,” she finished.

Haris was taken aback when he saw Adrian's attack. He had a deep impression of the Inferno Purgatory. It was this move that told him that Adrian’s weapons were top-notch treasures. As someone from Blade's Reach, Haris had been around weapons since childhood, particularly swords. Adrian's Divine Frost Slayer Blade was the most enigmatic weapon he had ever encountered. It seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, making it extraordinarily mysterious. As for the Hellblade, he deduced from his clashes with Adrian that it was an exceptionally rare and valuable weapon.

“When you're done measuring up, I suggest you come and take a look at this.” “No measuring needed; we all know who the real man is, don’t we, Axel.” Shaking my head at my grandfather’s immature comment, I walked over to where Hector stood with his nose in a book. “Take a look.” Following where his finger pointed, I read the description. “Obsidian Blade. What is it?” I had never heard of it, though I hadn’t heard of half the stuff in this room. “A handcrafted sword made by Hephaestus himself.”

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.”

All types of specially made knives were displayed and arranged perfectly before him, from fixation Bowies, authentic katanas, bolos, Gerber, and. Ah, this one. He slowly raised his glinting Obsidian knives. The thinnest blades one could ever find were three nanometres wide at the edge – 10 times sharper than a razor blade. These were made by flaking a long, thin sliver from a core of the volcanic glass. This was perfect! "Prepare him." He instructed without turning his head, knowing his men will know what to do. He critically examined each piece to make sure it will work on the flesh like butter.

This serves a secondary purpose of purifying the energy that's constantly being attracted and stored by the energy core. The blade was made from Obsidian diamond, there were countless tiny grooves and endless runes etched into the body of the swords. There were no magic circles on the sword but the grooves were designed in such a way that the mana will flow through it and activate the correct runes in the correct sequence to cast the correct spell when needed and works with the same principle as the magic circles.