Peerless Warrior Novels & Stories

“To the stables, princess. From there we will rally my men to the barracks.” “And you briefed the lieutenant of this?” “Yes,” Falstad nodded. By the time they have reached the castle’s courtyard, many survivors; knights and servants have gathered together, and are about to depart. “Halt!” He yelled, calling for the highest-ranked person in the survivors. A thin young man stepped forward, introducing himself as a knight captain of the kingdom’s army as well as a hereditary baron in rank. His eyes glistened when he saw the princess, thanking Holus for protecting the last royalty. The knights and servants alike cheered, though, for some, it turned solemn the moment Falstad demanded authority ov

Damien spun me around, his hand around my throat and the other around my waist and my arms, pinning me against his front. Percy's eyes were glowing and everyone else was getting ready to fight. My biggest fear was that if they fought, they would lose. Damien and his warriors had come in with ease and stood perfectly calm in front of some of the deadliest Warriors there were. Percy's eye twitched, I had never seen him nervous or scared before so this sight of him broke my heart. Nobody was moving in on Damien and his warriors, this was the Royal Guard, the best-trained warriors anyone had heard of.

My scalp prickled, and I took a step closer, glaring at her. “My brothers said you are one of the best warriors they have seen,” I hissed. “But I can see for the first time their judgment is wrong. Because a warrior who isn’t disciplined enough to show up on time to training isn’t worth anything. I do not have the time or patience in me to deal with you.”

Whiplash said, his voice accompanied by a hoarse whistling, a sign of his old age catching up to him? The squad members pulled up their displays from their hero suits, and one by one, they read out their current rankings and attributes. The readings were disappointingly low, except for Dante, who was on the cusp of breaking into the B-rank. His ranking was 11,382, the lowest of the low, showcasing the scarcity of ranked superheroes compared to the unranked ones. To be ranked was truly an honor and privilege, reserved for the most skillful and promising individuals. The rest of the squad reported their low attributes, all of them unranked.

Someone sang off-key near the barrels. I wove through the crowd, looking for Harrison. Instead, I caught scraps of conversation from a group of warriors. "—took down three rogues before the rest of us even shifted." "The new strongest female warrior. I'm telling you, she's something else." I slowed my steps. The strongest female warrior had always been Valeria — Alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack. They called her The Selene-Blade. People said the Moon Goddess herself had blessed her, and she fought in a terrifying mask — all you could see were her red eyes, glowing. No one had ever beaten her.

He wouldn't bear to be uncomplicated no matter how powerful he is to an Elder of the council. They clashed, the sound of their blows shaking the chamber. Cornelius, for all his strength and experience, was evenly matched with the mystery warrior. No, he was losing. The warrior wasn’t just powerful; he was untouchable. The council watched in stunned silence as Cornelius staggered back, his pride shattered.

Behind him, ten warriors stand like statues, their uniforms neat, their expressions unreadable. Beside him, Alpha Dorian Vex emerges, adjusting the cuffs of his black leather coat. Unlike Elias, Dorian carries an aura of cool confidence rather than brute force. His high cheekbones and sharp, calculating eyes make him appear almost regal. His jet black hair is slicked back, a single silver streak cutting through one side. He wears a fitted black combat suit with a silver wolf emblem stitched over his heart. His ten warriors follow him closely, their matching dark attire giving them a ghostly presence.

Jerry leaned toward him and murmured something. Marten's eyes shifted toward me. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Only slightly. Then he turned back to the warriors. I stopped a few feet away and waited. For a moment I simply watched him, the cold air moved through his dark hair. His armor caught the grey light from the mountains. The scars across his neck and jaw seemed more visible today. He looked less like a king, more like a weapon, a weapon preparing to be unleashed. It was tradition that an alpha hero would have scars from past wars he had conquered and that defined him fully.

“What’s that sound?” “Who’s coming?” I stared in the same direction. Then my eyes widened. Thousands of warriors emerged from the distance. They marched forward in perfect formation, every single one dressed in identical black armor. The armor was sleek and heavily reinforced, covering their chests, shoulders, arms, and legs. The crest of the Silver Moon Pack was engraved across the center of every breastplate. Their weapons glinted as they advanced. My mouth fell open. Kael or rather, Cassian stood beside me with a calm smile.

"Every elite warrior receives a solitary strike inside my perimeter. The true vanguard treats their entry gap as a blood-vow. Your frame arrived completely unconditioned, your bloodline possesses zero martial talent, yet your tongue demands an administrative exception? Identify your authority within this sector, youth. Do your claws command the Condex military houses? With this pathetic level of discipline, your beast will find nothing but a shallow grave in the trenches!" Tahlia’s face burned a violent, localized crimson as the Warlord's verbal execution echoed through the high stone amphitheater. His inner wolf snarled with wounded vanity. What if my claws bypass the standard path? My exec