Seirei Blade Dance Novels & Stories

says Seirei and the teacher’s desk flies away completely exposing his location. “Well, sh*t. Guess I’ve gotta fight then.” Seirei stands up on his feet and a black mist surrounds his arms. He turns around and an arm of a kappa grabs his face hurling him outside the window at high speeds. The windows in the classroom shatter with Seirei still flying through the sky. The speed with which he was flying reduces gradually and he puts a stop mid-air. Staying upright, he cuts through the air with speed not visible to the naked eye re-entering the classroom through the window and putting his arm that had transformed into a huge black scythe right through the kappa’s head.

The blade of the sword was vibrating with an audible hum, and suddenly, there seemed to be dozens of blades! There was no telling which was the real one, and they were all shooting toward Frank! "Watch out, Mr. Lawrence!" Robert cried out even as he turned pale. That was Flying Sword Sect's killing stroke, a sword technique of breakneck speed! It was just too quick to dodge. Even Vicky and Yara—both of whom were martial artists—would be killed in Frank's place! Even the Flying Sword Sect apprentices gasped. "Shit, the chief has to use Phoenix Dance?"

Forms blurred dance—draw, cut, sheath—bodies colliding controlled violence, each brush electric foreplay. Shoji rattled suddenly, splintering shadow-intrusion. Five figures burst ink-black—board rebels, faces twisted vendetta, tanto knives glinting malice under dojo lanterns. Leader snarled Japanese filth, blade arcing Kenji's throat. Time fractured slow-mo: his bokken snapped block, but flanking wolves lunged my blindside.

She shook her head in response to Blade’s questioning stare and tightened her lips to show how much she disapproved of it. I was left confused as to why Blade was requiring the old lady’s permission to reveal whatever was bothering him to me. I placed my other hand on our intertwined hands. “Please tell me, I am tired of being left in the dark. You just asked me to trust you and I do, why can’t you trust me?” His eyes met mine again and he leaned down to kiss my palm. “I trust you.” “Then tell me.” The old lady was seething inwards but Blade ignored her. “I have a condition.” He began. “I… I am somehow cursed.”

She snarls as she stumbles, then recovers quickly, her elbow snapping into my ribs and pain flares bright, then fades too fast. I move before I finish the thought while my blade stays sheathed. I use my weight, my leverage, the angles I know. Selira adapts, teeth bared now, claws grazing my sleeve. The circle tightens and I feel eyes on every movement. My pulse stays steady and when I drive her back, it’s cleaner and faster than it should be. And somewhere beneath the heat in my skin, something pulls, as if the ground itself is urging me forward.

] [ MENTAL CONTAMINATION DETECTED. "It's in my head!" Jack screamed, clutching his helmet. "Get it out!" Sebastian activated his suit’s Override Mode. "Focus! It's fear! It's weaponized fear!" He drew his High-Frequency Blade (stolen from Takeshi’s lab). He charged at the tentacle that was reaching for Harper. He jumped. The blade hummed with blue energy. He slashed. SQUELCH. He severed the tentacle. Blue blood sprayed over his visor.

I said, my eyes darkening with a quiet, dangerous anticipation. For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. And that less than a second felt like forever, stretching unnaturally as though time itself hesitated under the weight of what was about to unfold. Then— The air shifted. A faint, almost imperceptible displacement brushed against my face, as though the wind itself had been sliced open by something sharper than steel. Kyde had barely adjusted his stance, his grip tightening on his dagger, his body hunched with the intent of lunging forward, muscles coiling in preparation to strike first.

The steel blade was no longer humming with a blue electrical current; it was coated in a thick, oily black smoke that carried the unmistakable, suffocating clicking sound of the First Soul Eater. Laila brought her left blade up to block the strike, the sapphire fire of her steel meeting the black mist of the naginata with a horrific, screeching sound that sounded like a metal file scraping against her skull. The pressure was immense, the black smoke actively trying to crawl down her silver blade and infect her hand, but the runic lines on her knuckles flared with a bright white heat that burned the mist into a white ash before it could touch her skin. She pivoted on her heel, her right blade

The blade sliced through empty air. Before Dane could recover— Her wrist flicked. The dull edge skimmed neatly across the sleeve of his coat. A clean line appeared in the fabric. Dane glanced downward. "...First point." Kiara merely raised an eyebrow. "You were slow." His grin widened. "Good." "I hate easy opponents." --- The next exchange began instantly. Neither waited. Neither defended. Their bodies became little more than blurred shadows racing across the arena. Clink! Clang! Tak! Steel rang continuously.

Janita was on me in a flash, her dagger aiming for my throat. I got my sword arm up. Her blade skittered off the cross-guard. I swung my other fist, catching her in the ribs. She grunted but didn’t back off. She was fast, a whirl of hate and sharp edges. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laila. She was facing the seer. The seer raised her hands, and black tendrils of smoke coiled from the floor, snaking toward Laila’s ankles.