Sacrificial Sword Novels & Stories

The cold silence in the environment was like the harbinger of a new approaching storm. He examined the surroundings; it didn't look like a trap or an assisted murder. Then he bent down and carefully examined Agness's wound. He was trying to understand the weapon used by lightly inserting his fingers into the knife cut. After a while, he noticed that familiar, serrated structure. The weapon used had practically torn apart the old woman's chest in a single strike. "This was a sacrificial blade," he said. Then he smelled the blood on his fingers. "Probably witch-made. I don't smell sulfur or silver powder."

He picked up the sword. "Infernal Demon Sword." He noticed that the words were engraved on it. It must be a precious sword passed down for generations to the Gardners, like the Ghost Sword. It was good enough to be a sacrifice. Wilbur chuckled and placed it in the demiplane. He looked at the dead body and said, "Yumi Gardner is enough. You're not relevant at all." He wanted to leave after saying that, but he stopped. He walked towards the broken statue of Asenthia instead.

I accepted the dagger with a nod of approval, tucking it away securely. "In addition," Maxwell continued, presenting me with a silver sword, "I've had this crafted for you. Silver, lethal to vampires and wolves, but harmless to you, Your Highness. It may prove invaluable within the enemy's stronghold." I inspected the blade, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "A thoughtful gesture," I acknowledged, feeling the weight of power in my grasp. "It will serve its purpose well." With a swift motion, I tested the sword's balance, nodding in satisfaction. "Let us proceed," I declared, my tone firm and commanding. "The battle has just begun".

It had likely claimed numerous lives before. "I'm ready to sever heads with this," Dirk proclaimed, lowering the blade to chest level. "Caladbolg?!" Jenny gasped. "You've taken our master's sword?!" Caladbolg was no ordinary weapon. It demanded a specific ritual—immersing in fresh blood each morning and evening. It exuded its unique aura, reputed to harvest lives upon unsheathing. This renowned mystical Jesundian blade was always in Adolf's possession. However, now, he seemed to have handed it to Dirk.

“The witcher was recognized by rumours of human sacrifice, which he admitted to doing.” “Human sacrifices?” The Alpha seemed angry. “How is it that a sorcerer known for human sacrifice entered our territory?” “No proof was ever obtained regarding the sacrifices,” Leonel replied. “Go on, Sienna,” Hunter asked. “I don’t know much about warlocks, but he teleported us without even breaking a sweat.” “I knew he had teleported!” My brother exclaimed furiously. “There is no warlock as powerful as this, but if he made sacrifices, that could give him enough magic for some time.”

The old vampire smiled and nodded. "We have much to discuss young one but first let me give you the true sword that ended your family," Marcos said as he turned the hilt out for Lucian. "It is the Torrent sword. The only weapon that steals souls immediately and traps them within. Your parents' souls are locked within its steel," Marcos said sullenly and Lucian held up the sword with a frown. Marcos, seeing the black rapier I was still holding, nodded. "You still have the other, impressive," Marcos grinned.

The sword light of his Storm of Swords spell was nearly snuffed out by now, leaving only his Unsullied Sword to resist the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword. Never mind that the Unsullied Sword was ranked beneath the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword. The fact that the Spirit of the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword was taking part in this battle meant that any resistance by the Unsullied Sword was futile. The blade of the Unsullied Sword was beginning to shake and the white light covering it was gradually dimming under the weight of the Northern Dark Mystic Ice Sword's cyan light.

“Sanguis Umbra... arise.” From my back, wings exploded—jagged, glass-like constructs of obsidian laced with crimson veins. The sky flickered with lightning as the blood in my veins answered my call. A hiss escaped my lips as my sword appeared—Crimson Mourning—forged in the underworld and fed with the souls of fallen enemies. The blade thrummed in my hand, alive, hungry. All around us, the wizards unleashed their spells. Lightning, flame, frost—chaotic and furious. But I moved with the grace of a phantom, slicing through the spells as I charged forward.

Elaine pulled out a knife and charged toward me, and the close distance made it impossible for me to escape. Just when I thought I would die there, Andreas instinctively pulled me behind him, and the knife struck his heart directly, blood spreading across the floor. "Isadora, I finally did something for you." He gripped my hand and used his last strength to speak."I'm willing to offer the entire Fitzgerald fortune as a wedding gift and fully support your experiments. So, Isadora, will you marry me?" I thought he had truly lost his mind. At a time like this, he was still thinking about romance.

It was the blood-fire of the First Sacrifice, a secret kept only by the High Elders. Cathros stood behind her, shadow stretched long across the sacrificial chamber. "They survived," Catherine said. Her voice carried no emotion—only fury restrained by ritual. "And that means the gods are testing our resolve," Cathros replied. "So we will give them blood." He offered her the Dagger of Unmaking—the same blade once used to kill the First Moonbearer. Catherine’s hand closed around the hilt, and the chamber wept. "No more sparing," she whispered. "No more mercy."