Shortsword Of First Blood Novels & Stories

They rushed in blindly on impulses and Shane shook his head. The first blade came from the left, fast and desperate, and Regaleon did not even look at it. His hand shot out, catching the man’s wrist mid-swing before twisting sharply. Bone cracked loudly and the sword fell. In the same breath, Regaleon drove him backward into another attacker, sending both crashing to the ground.

They engage into short-range battles and melee attacks. One of the students with a bright red hair holding a great-sword made out of flames dodge to the left when he saw the coming acid attack, with a big grin on his face he lifts his whole body upward and at the same time swinging his greatsword diagonally. Halata sa mukha nito na nag-eenjoy. He landed on the left arm of the monster. The monster let out a loud shriek when the attack landed on his shoulder. Leaving a big wound and sprouting out blue-colored blood.

Anna commanded. The shopkeeper stepped forward, the ritual knife gleaming. As the blade sank into Killian’s side, a guttural scream tore from his throat even in his unconscious state. Anna clamped her mouth over his to stifle the sound, her fangs nicking his lip as she began the agonizing process of the Bloodletting.

But she slices through my flames like butter, her swords of silver cutting the wolf down in an instant. The pain reverberates back to me. My arms quake, but I hold steady, swaying just a touch. She raises her swords over Soren, and I… I… A burst of shadow covers the island in darkness before an explosion of power explodes, knocking me and the Viper to the ground. Grandpa Ryatt appears in silence, his face set in determination as he wields the Shadowsword, it’s hilt inlaid with gems glowing bright, and swings, metal singing as it splits the air around us into pieces.

I looked at the dark oil on Lucas’s blade. I leaned down and picked up a simple wooden shield. No crest. No history. Just oak and iron. My right hand found the hilt of a short sword. Balance was off. It was too light. "Die!" Lucas didn't wait for a signal. He lunged. The heavy broadsword whistled through the air. I stepped back, the tip of the steel missing my chest by an inch. He swung again. Horizontal. A decapitation strike. I ducked. The air from the blade ruffled my hair.

But why? My breath hitched as he raised his sword and swung it down with a swift and brutal motion. The first warrior’s head flies off his shoulders, landing on the ground with a thud. Blood spurted from his beck, staining the concrete slab and splashing on the Alpha’s jacket. Everyone stared ahead in horror, shivering with fear.

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.

Darkness envelops me, but somehow I still see, even though my eyes are still shut. Or are they? That intense feeling bubbles in my chest again, but this time. It takes over. Pain shoots up my hands as I feel the skin of my fingers tearing apart as it elongates. It’s brutal, scary but there’s a power surge in me that numbs it all. And I strike. Someone shouts and jumps away. I don’t stop swinging my arms, they fly everywhere hitting whatever and whoever is in my line of vision. Everyone scampers, my hands unable to strike anything again.

it said. I stepped forward. The ground split beneath us as our power collided. The air bent inward, and the flames around us collapsed into drifting ash. I felt the bond between me and Kaelor stretch too thin. That was the first warning. The second was the cold. The heat vanished from my chest in an instant. The light shattered. And then it was too late. I did not see the blade until it was already inside me. There was no grand strike. No roar. Only the sudden weight of steel sliding through flesh and bone, exactly where the mark burned brightest.

“She’s inside and there is another man!” “Wait here.” Omar replied, helping the she-wolf to rest against the only wall not covered in blood. Omar moved calmly, pulling a hunting knife from his coat pocket. The way the blade winked wickedly in the pale light sent a chill down Chloe’s spine. She decided there and then she had seen enough of weapons and murder today and turned away from the door, gulping in air. Her throat burned and the bitter taste of bile still haunted Chloe’s mouth. Above her the clouds were breaking and golden sunlight was now filtering through, casting long shadows between the trees. It was too beautiful for the gruesome scene.