Poisoned Blade Novels & Stories

The blade had been coated with something. “Poison,” Theodore whispered, his smile triumphant even as life faded from his eyes. “Ancient recipe. Kills slowly, painfully. Hours of agony before your heart finally stops.” Dario felt the drug spreading through his bloodstream, making his vision blur and his balance uncertain. He stumbled backward, pulling the blade free and dropping it onto the concrete where it clattered like broken dreams. Theodore used the last of his strength to push himself up from the ground, his arms wrapping around Dario’s waist in a final embrace that was part attack, part desperate grasp for relevance.

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

He sat up immediately and looked at his wound, “I'm still bleeding?” I sighed, why am I feeling sorry for this guy again? Have I gone crazy like him? “The blade is poisoned.” I blurted out, “Well, it’s not like the poison could kill an unkillable person like you. Just wash the flesh off in the affected area and you’re good.” He just nodded and got up. And just when he was about to stand on his two feet, he suddenly broke his balance and dragged my waist down to the bed with him. My head bumped into his hard chest and we both groaned in pain.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

My legs trembled. But the bleeding didn't stop. The edges of my vision darkened. A cold, spreading nausea trickled under my ribs and then everywhere: my limbs, my teeth, the inside of my skull. The pain was wrong — deep and thrumming, a poisonous undercurrent that ate at my strength. The realization landed on me like a physical blow. "The blade is poisoned," I managed to say, my voice small and surprised in my own ears.

he argued and i pushed his hands away and stared at the marking up close, it was deep but it was also not closign up faster than i expected. “The knife was poisoned.” he exposed.

He did not move at all. A trace of cruelty and joy flashed in Madam Nalan's eyes. The entire blue dagger was almost stuck in Ding Hao's back. "Haha, die!" Madam Nalan laughed loudly. The blue dagger was a highly toxic blade. She had spent countless efforts collecting poisons and had refined the dagger with those poisons. The entire dagger was forged with strange poisons. Once it stabbed into the opponent's body, it would instantly turn into a poison without an antidote, flowing to the limbs and bones in an instant. Even a master at the initial stage of the God Realm would find it difficult to resist this terrible poison and would be poisoned to death.

The specific scent of his cologne mixed with autumn air. The brushstroke wavered again became a muddy smudge. I stepped back, gripping the brush like a weapon. "Work,"I whispered to the empty room. "Just work." I turned to a half finished piece from weeks before a swirl of cool blues and grays. I had called it Equilibrium. I tried to lose myself in blending it. My hand jerked severally, A slash of pure, violent phthalo blue cut across the delicate gradients, ruining the composition. A gasp escaped me. It was a perfect metaphor for everything. Austin had ruined the composition of my life.

He turned toward me, taking a full gulp of his liquor and setting the glass down over the large table by the window. “Here.” He pointed to something on the table that looked like a knife wrapped in a white cloth-like material. A pit formed in my stomach when he lifted the knife so I could have a full glance at it. “This knife is with a silver blade, and I'm aware you know nothing of silver, but I would do you the favor of telling you what it truly means. Silver blades are known to be deadly weapons in all werewolf existence, and any who is pierced or cut through with silver never survives it.” He twitched his lips as he ran his fingers over the edges of the blade.

We didn't even inform our parents. Instead, we had a simple ceremony in our rented apartment. I wore a wedding gown and married the love of my life. However, he didn't pull out a ring from amidst the bouquet—he pulled out a sharp fruit knife. The blade slashed against my skin, making my blood flow. I heard him repeating, "Why is life so unfair to me? Why?" This was my wedding night, which I'd dreamed of countless times since childhood. I spent two hours of it lying in a pool of blood as Liam stabbed me over 160 times. Each stab avoided my critical organs.