Phighting Ships Novels & Stories

The heart of battle throbbed around her, a symphony of steel clashing and shouting men, a world poised on the edge of violence. “Hold steady!” she commanded, eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, watching the rival ship approach with malicious intent. Its sails, swollen with wind, sent a shiver of dread coursing through her, each puff an omen of the conflict that was sure to erupt. The crew sprang into action, the once-idyllic morning transformed into a tableau of urgency as they loaded cannonballs and prepared to defend their vessel.

I don't kill, I immobilize. I was in the full battle mode now, and wolves were falling at my feet. I was ripping into the side of a gold-coloured wolf, I was distracted. Too distracted to see a rouge lunge at my right. The wolf knocked me to the floor and I growled as blood pooled from my side. The battle was drawing to a close, the rouges were retreating. The wolf tearing at my body was doing it out of spite. I struggled, made a last attempt to lunge and my teeth sunk into his throat. He thrust away from me and retreated, blood dripping from his coat. I sunk down as the pack began howling in victory, a soft smile working its way onto my lips

“Ready.” After four or five rounds, Christopher hit the stopwatch. “That’s pad work. Next: hand-foot coordination, then two rounds of light touch sparring. No contact.” “No contact,” Aria repeated, eyes gleaming. “If there is, it’ll be accidental.” “There won’t be,” Kai said, that faint half-smile appearing—right where it belonged.

They tore into each other, smashing things at home. "If it weren't for you, I'd be living large with the O'Connors. This is all your fault!" Sawyer barked. "Keep dreaming!" Mathilde shot back. "Think they would let a guy like you in their house? You're stuck with me!" "I'm gonna kill you!" Sawyer growled. My name came up often in their fights. "Just forget about them," I said, uninterested in their drama. "Let's focus on our lives instead." After settling my luggage and gifts from abroad, I went to the garden.

Biting, scratching, and growling. Finlay didn't come when she was barfing out her lungs, outside. Even when men had gone to call him. She wouldn't jump into conclusions because she knew if he had been present, he would have been the first person to pick her up from the floor and take her inside. But if he was out, the fighting on the twenty ships would've stopped. Ophelia was confused because she could feel it in her gut that something wasn't right. She was touching through the wooden walls so she could open the windows when she bumped into something mighty with fur.

Worse, every single punch held tremendous power rivaling a canon’s shot. Amazingly, Dick braced through them all. The melee switched locations every few seconds instead of remaining static. The two fighters’ shifting footwork meant they zipped through the ocean within a 5km radius in a tight chase of cat-and-mouse. Flashes of their silhouette appeared everywhere. They were so fast that even the cruise could not catch up. The only way the spectators could even see where they were was if the cruise managed to shine its spotlight on them as it scanned through the area. It was a battle so intense that the sea had temporarily lost its hope for peace. Waves rolled and roared while carcasses of fis

Flanking them were hundreds of sleek, dart-like escort fighters and drop-ships. They didn't broadcast a surrender demand. They didn't ask for parley. The three Dreadnoughts simultaneously fired their main batteries. Three beams of concentrated, superheated golden plasma, each as wide as a skyscraper, lanced across the sky and slammed into Coldwater’s Phase-Shield.