Shortsword Of First Blood Novels & Stories

A medium lengthened double H sword with a tint of white and gold appeared beside his palm, so he gripped the grip of the sword and slashed it in the air in front of him diagonally to the left. Who will win? Good or Evil ?

Lady Dyare explained as murmurs enveloped the hall. We were werewolves, we weren't scared of a cut. We would just heal back but the way Lady Dyare said it sounded too good to be true. The first she wolf on the line went, then the next and it got to my turn. Shakily I stepped into the center and stretched my hand with my eyes closed. Then I felt a huge weight in my hands that made me stumble backwards. I opened my eyes to see a sword with red and black crown intricate designs all over it and my name is written backwards.

I poured everything I had, my love for the man who rejected me, my hope for a future I hadn't yet seen, and the power of the Moonblood into the weapon. “STAY!” I screamed the final command in the Old Tongue. A massive flash of light erupted from the altar, blinding us for a split second. The shockwave knocked me backward, and I fell into Kael’s arms as he rushed forward. When the light faded, the sword looked different. It wasn't just a piece of steel anymore. It shimmered with a soft, pearlescent glow, and the hilt felt warm to the touch. The dark rot that had been clinging to the edges was gone, replaced by a shield of pure, celestial energy.

The short sword shot at Chu Xun with lightning-quick intensity with a trail of black glitters tailing after it. "Psychokinesis!" Chu Xun's eyes gleamed with desire. He could see that this short sword was a Sacred Relic – one especially for the use of psychic powers – and he had never seen anything like that before on Earth. The short sword came at Chu Xun in the just blink of an eye and slashed viciously at him. Chu Xun summoned his powers. His fist glowed purplish in an instant and he frantically swatted at the short sword.

The war raged on, a battle of power and soul, each stroke striking like a crescendo amid the storm. My trembling palm clutched Xavier's sword, a relic of power that pulsed with an energy I didn't understand. The blade became an extension of my will as the Demon leaped at me with murderous intent. The sword clashed with its opponent's blade in a dance of survival, each strike mirroring the ferocious struggle for power.

Rhychard sheathed the short swords and drew the Guardian Sword. Jerome hopped out of the Firebird, firing shot after shot at Rhychard. The magic sword deflected each one, sending it safely into the concrete. The driver abandoned the car, which was now blocking the ramp completely, and fired his own 9mm. Okay, this part I didn't consider. Rhychard kept the sword upright in front of him, its power drawing the bullets to it and sending them off to either side.

I unsheathed my broadsword and whirled it in my hand. The first wave of altered shifters hit us. I brandished my sword with enough force to cut limbs. A head came off, proving the most effective method of dealing with these creatures. We had to affect their nervous system, or they would simply keep coming. One of them bolted in my direction and leaped. I pulled my shield up just in time to brace for impact. I let go of my broadsword and fumbled for a dagger, my arm almost being ripped off as the shifter tore at my shield arm. I took a chance, arced my right arm, and plunged, then twisted the small blade inside the shifter’s skull. I choked on the blood that splattered on my face and pushed i

I lowered my eyelashes a bit—go on, agree. “Yes. Both of them. First blood doesn’t count.” “Alex, do you agree with this offer? If not, I can discuss a duel to the first blood or to fight with something that suits you better...” I would prefer a curved boarding saber, but would these two agree? Never. Anyway, a sword would be enough for killing them. “Fine,” I dropped casually. The noble winced, as if I had stuffed a lemon inside his mouth, and waved his hand.

By the time her arm was fully extended, she held a fully formed crimson sword, its translucent blade forged entirely from her blood. Instantly, she swung the blood-sword in a wide arc, the blade whistling through the air. It sliced through the first ten men as if they were made of paper, then she dove into the fray, the blood-sword carving a path of absolute devastation. She was a blur of red, hacking off limbs, cutting off heads, and splitting torsos, her eyes wide and manic. But as the bodies piled up around her, the adrenaline began to crash. The weight of everything hit her at once. The image of Kael's innocent face, the smell of the dead, the emptiness in her own chest.