Slender Origins Novels & Stories

Holding the ebony fan, I set foot on the Celestial Ascension Stairway to the Nine Heavens alone. With a flick of my wrist, the fan's ribs and surface elongated in a flash of blinding black light, transforming into a longsword as dark as ink. A jet-black wave of sword energy crashed down like a bolt of lightning. The magnificent Ascension Stairway shattered with a deafening roar. Jade stone splintered and collapsed, and half the Celestial Realm shook violently. Countless celestial soldiers and generals poured out of the Southern Heavenly Gate in a panic, blocking my path.

"You wanna be too overwhelmed?" "I'm too much overwhelmed already." "Yeah, let's see about that." My brows crossed; I didn't understand his last words but whatever. I just puffed a breath, easing the heavy stones on my chest. "Slender is not a werewolf," he uttered. "He's a seer. He can see hints of the future but it isn't always a hundred per cent accurate. He could be wrong, he could be right but mostly in between." "He's not a werewolf?" My jaw dropped.

She spins toward the altar and slams the dagger down, deep, into the center of the obsidian. A pulse blasts through the room cracking the walls. The veil shimmers , half-open. And from beyond it, a low, ancient and hungry whisper seeps through. I know that voice. Even though I’ve never heard it before. Raelor Lycaon.

"For the slayer of the Alkhun's team was Amari Rafa." Alkhun and his first member, Amari Rafa. A swordsman of the team will be prominent and responsible for close combat. On Marlo's Team were the 5 strongest descendants of the Berhalkswan Family. "Caile as the slayer of Marlo's team." With Caile, the smartest descendants in the Berhalksawn palace. He was the greatest spearman and great on close combat. This tall with raven black hair was only 18 years old of age. His height was the trademark of the family his mother came from, The Lenin aristocratic family. Alkhun was certain that Caile will be the rival of Amari throughout the competition.

The first thing you should know about me is that I have spent seventeen years as the world's least impressive consolation prize. My brother Lucien arrived first, screaming like he was already giving orders. The full moon was out. The elders felt his wolf before he even took his first breath. Golden eyes. Perfect lungs. Future alpha material. Then I showed up. The room went quiet. Silver white hair. Pale eyes. Skin so light I looked like I had been assembled in the dark. Some elder whispered "cursed," which was rude, but also fair.

"Keep breathing. Breathe through it. You can do this." I clenched my jaw, focusing on my breathing, trying to steady myself. The leash he had spoken of—it was there. I could feel it, like a thin thread tethering me to my human side. Every part of me screamed to let go, to surrender to the wolf, but I fought it. I couldn’t let her win. The first bone snapped, the second crack coming faster. My hands clenched into fists as my nails elongated, sharp and dangerous. My body twisted and contorted, muscles shifting, bones reshaping, fur sprouting along my arms. The pain was unbearable.

Willow stood back and began to absorb the essence of all the fallen Slendermen. His eyes flashed red as his hair tuned white. He felt the runes etched and tattooed on his body awakening. “First tier of the Blood Born: Blood Knight.” Immediately, a scarlet broadsword appeared in his hand. The Slenderman lunged at him, and he sidestepped it, slashing at its legs. As it fell to the ground, he changed his position, smashing his feet into the thing’s face.

*RIP* Using nothing but his senses, Mane identified the presence of the Slender Cat behind him. He locked on to the creature whose agility was already troubling him and kept it in his radar. Then curled his right elbow, with his spike pointing outwards and dove into the Slender Cat. In doing all this, Mane hadn’t turned to face the Slender Cat even once!

"The World-Tree doesn't just grow in the blood—it grows in the Noise of the Rebellion!" The realization hit me with the force of a hundred chapters. The High Council thought the Legion was their greatest weapon. They thought that by "Standardizing" the shifters, they could make them invincible. But they forgot that the Origin didn't start with an army—it started with the First Scream of the Scorned. I didn't reach for the sunset-gold fire. I reached for the Original Chaos.

But Shane’s scent was here, clear as day. Shane spotted the rebels clan out near the edge of the village, looking across the pack. Shane only had two helpers backing him up, and with an attack force of only three, it stood to reason that he would be trying to go straight for the jugular by taking out the alpha. Moments later, Scar located Shane and his goons, creeping along on four legs downwind of the rebels, slowly advancing on to their direction , their tails twitching in impending attack.