Seraphim Blades Novels & Stories

Seraphine arrived on Cain's left flank. Her blades were useless against his true form and she drove them forward anyway, not to wound him but to split his attention, and the split bought me two seconds that I spent driving the blade at the exact point three prior strikes had opened. He caught it. His hand around the blade itself, the black metal in his grip, and I felt the resistance in the hilt as he redirected, and what I felt through the weapon's frequency was something I hadn't expected, he was working against the blade's nature, trying to disrupt the forging at the point of contact, and it was costing him something to do it.

He stepped inside the demon’s swing, pivoted sharply— And drove his blade upward beneath the general’s armor. The steel stopped just short of Kharvek’s throat. Silence fell instantly. The duel was over. Kharvek froze. Adrian held the blade steady. “Yield,” Adrian said quietly. The demon’s jaw tightened. But he finally lowered his weapon. “I yield.” Adrian stepped back. The court erupted again—some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. High above them, Vaelreth stood slowly from his throne.

“That’s enough, sir.” The noble scowled. “I didn’t say you could speak...” “You don’t have to,” the guard shot back, firm and steady. The Alpha’s power lingered in the air, impossible to miss. Seraphine just bowed, wiped up the mess, and slipped away without a word. Still, inside, confusion twisted tight. Why did everyone seem to push her out, yet never let her fall? How could protection feel so much like punishment? Later, in the hush of the servants’ corridor, Lady Verya watched her from the shadows, face impossible to read. “Let her work,” she whispered to herself. “Let people see her.” Some poisons need time. They work slowly and quietly.

They were tall, elegant, and wore masks of hammered silver. ​Kael lunged forward, his blade humming with a dark red heat. He moved with a ferocity Seraphina hadn't seen before, parrying the Wraiths' ethereal blades. Arion joined him, his movements more fluid and chaotic, throwing daggers of liquid shadow that exploded on impact.

There were at least ten of them, their eyes glowing with malice. Seraphine did not flinch. She had faced worse. "Is that all?" she challenged. The beasts lunged. Blade met claw. The sound of metal ringing echoed through the forest. Seraphine danced through the storm of violence, her movements fluid and deadly. She struck down three in quick succession, but there were too many. They were fast, feral, and endless. One managed to rake its claws across her arm. Pain flared, but she gritted her teeth and fought on. She was bleeding, her breath coming in short gasps, but she refused to fall. She was Seraphine. She was the Guardian. She did not surrender.

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.

"Jack wolf, please!" With a surge of adrenaline, Jack Wolf summoned every last ounce of strength. The spear shone brighter, its power surging through him like a river of light. Eryndor's eyes widened in surprise as Jack Wolf's grip tightened, the spear's tip pressing deeper into his chest. The dark magic swirling around him began to falter. Eryndor stood on his ground. The air was electric with the clash of steel and the scent of sweat and blood. Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss.

This let the VF-5 use its abundant armor to block the small knife. If the Seraphim's arms possessed more power and carried a better weapon, then it would have carved the VF-5 apart by now. Instead, it had to dodge the VF-5's fatal claw strikes with every approach, suffering a few glancing blows in return, one of which simply sheared off both its legs at the knees.

It slammed into Quintan’s waiting hand just in time. There was a single, deafening CLANG—a roar of metal that echoed across the entire mountain range. The brother’s divine sword, blessed by a Seraphim itself, met Quintan’s dull, worn, almost pathetic-looking blade… and failed to break it. Shock flooded the brother’s mind. Impossible. This blade was forged from celestial materials… it was gifted by the Seraphim… it is meant to cut anything in the mortal realm. Anything. Yet—

Zitrey just glared at him and went inside. Matt, seeing how far the distance between them, but she easily closed it by split of seconds, then rubbing his neck and feeling the pain, he had thought, “She was still young, yet have extra-ordinary skills and killing intent. Doesn’t feel pain. Truly a masterpiece of the Dark Moon. A perfect killing machine, that’s why they don’t want to let her go. However, if she won’t go back, those geezer thought its just best to kill her before she will turn her back and come against them. Crimson Blade is the double blade that they raised, and might come to their head. The key to annihilate those bastards Dark Moon.”