Onyx Blade Ds3 Novels & Stories

After blindly receiving the clothes, he continued to say, "What kind of weapons?" Dylan followed him, the hem of his blanket trailing on the floor as he walked. The blond werewolf led him to his table which was cluttered with papers and parts he couldn't bother identifying. Enzo opened one drawer, revealing an organized assortment of blades and knives that were a lot smaller than the ones he was used to seeing. "These are made out of silver." He took a reflexive step back, having his own share of experiences with the lethal element. "Why do you have them?"

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze back up to his face. Nox walked to a shelf and retrieved a bottle before lounging in a chair. "Come here.” I hesitated, then approached slowly. "What's going on?" He held out the bottle, which contained a strange purple liquid. "Take this." "What is it?" I asked, eyeing the bottle suspiciously. In response, Nox turned his back to me, and I gasped. A long, angry cut ran across his lower back. “Silver blade," he explained, his voice tight. "Laced with wolfsbane. It won't close unless you apply this."

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

Ding Hao swallowed hard; he moved away his eyes from the black spinels, and saw a long saber floating in the space. It was a quaint-looking long saber, a bit like the podao used by the army of the cold weapon era in his previous life. The saber had a broad spine and a long edge, molded in a soft streamline. Three blood grooves were carved along the blade, like sprawling dragons and phoenixes. The blade was slightly narrower towards the handle, and the hilt was extremely long, which was more than enough for both hands to grasp. The entire saber, with no complicated pattern or engraving, looked extremely simple.

They were so deep to the point even his bones could be seen. Not even Hercules could contend against two at once, let alone hundreds of experts? Brittany shouted urgently, “Alex, hurry up and go. You can definitely get out by yourself!” Alex’s eyes became colder. “I’m fine! I just don’t want to go on a killing spree.” Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! As he said that, the Sword of the Universe, the Seven Blades of Death and the Breaking Point of the Dragon’s Bane of Thirty-Six floated in front of him.

In his hands, he held a shorter blade that he offered to Aria handle-first. "Basic silver alloy with moonstone inlay," he explained. "Not powerful enough to significantly enhance your abilities, but sufficient to provide a focus for channeling energy if you need it. And sharp enough to do physical damage if mystical attacks prove insufficient. Can you use a blade, or do I need to assign someone to guard you specifically?"

Like the moment before a held breath finally releases. Kael lowered his blade slowly. The silver edge still glowed, responding to something beyond the threshold. He could feel it pulling at him, not aggressively, but insistently. Like a hand reaching out in the dark. "Don't move," Aion warned. "I'm not moving." "Your blade is." Kael looked down. The silver sword was trembling in his grip. Not violently. Almost gently. As if it recognized something on the other side. Rhydian stepped closer, golden blade drawn. "Mine too."

"I'll keep the thermostat busy. You get to that core and freeze the drills!" The Sentinel lunged. It didn't run; it flowed across the catwalk like a wave of boiling quicksilver. Dax stood his ground. As the superheated scythe swung toward his neck, he didn't try to block it with the heavy iron of his gauntlet the heat would have melted the metal instantly. He ducked underneath the swing and drove his Phase-Knife directly into the entity's shifting torso. The blue sub-ether of the Phase-Blade violently rejected the superheated smart-alloy.

"It seems that I'll have to use all I have this time." The sword light flashed, and besides holding onto the Dual Blades of Fire and Ice, Omar was biting onto his third sword, the Blade of Wind. As soon as the Blade of Wind appeared, Omar's entire momentum also changed. The air in their surroundings sounded as if sharp blades had slashed it, and it was frightening.

She thought of her mother, Queen Nox, who'd once said, "A blade too soon drawn is a blade forever dulled. As though it had winked at her to catch her attention, her gaze shifted - caught on a blade resting apart from the others. It gleamed black as midnight, so dark the light seemed swallowed by it. Its hilt was wrought with curling filigree of silver, set with stones of onyx. Its guard swept outward like wings — not soft, feathery wings, but razor-edged, proud, terrible. It was beautiful. It was dreadful. It was hers.