Soul Eater Ragnarok Sword Novels & Stories

“No! You are wrong, I was yours… what am I even saying? I was never yours, and I will never—” My words died down as I felt his lips impossibly close to mine the anger in his eyes hardening making fear and panic clog me. “You’re testing me Lyra! I am very possessive of my belongings, I won’t have anyone messing with them. If anyone has a death wish, then I dare him to as much as stare at you, I won’t hesitate to end lives.” He states with pure menace. “I am not afraid of you Sage, I have never been and we both know that,” I say inaudibly.

The silence stretched for only a moment. “Pass this.” He heard Caden say to Ragnar, and moments later, he saw something shift in the low light between the bars. Ragnar passed him a dagger. “It’s made of silver and infused with wolfsbane. Send it right into his heart when you get the chance. Be patient and true, or else we’re all screwed and your prissy mate becomes fodder for starving soldiers,” Caden instructed gravely.

Madam Amelia asked. “My plan was to render her powers useless.” I diplomatically said. Though, as I did, I felt the copper dagger I had bought with me. The one I was going to stab into her heart. The real answer, yes, I was going to kill her daughter. Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me.

Ragnar held a short sword similar to the one I had used the other day. I took it from him, the tip immediately dipping toward the ground. Swords were still much heavier than I had imagined. I had hoped that after my practice the day before, I would have gained some magical strength to heft one around, but clearly, that wasn't happening. "Okay, so first, try not to point the sword at the ground when you're actively in combat," Ragnar said, covering my hand with his and pointing it up as if it weighed nothing. "I'm trying," I grunted, using two hands to point the sword up.

This was where I met him—Ragnar, the rogue I’d fed coins and secrets to for years, my shadow, my blade in the dark. I pushed through the creaking door, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, my heart racing as Ragnar stepped forward, his hulking frame scarred, his yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Not Darius, the warrior I’d pitched to Marcus, but Ragnar, a rogue so vile even the BloodMoon pack shunned him. He was my secret weapon, loyal only to my gold, my promises. “Veron,” he growled, his voice rough, his claws flexing. “What’s the job?”

"Demonstration. Strength shown, not spilled." Torvald considered. His gaze slid to Kara. She gave the smallest nod. "Very well," he rumbled. "Rorik." His son dismounted, rolling broad shoulders. He was younger than Damien by perhaps five years, but built like a siege engine, movements deliberate and powerful. Damien glanced at Ronan. "You." Ronan grinned, fierce and eager, and swung down from his saddle. He carried no shield, only a longsword sheathed across his back. Rorik drew his own blade, broader, double-edged, hilt wrapped in black leather.

For the handle, he took a piece of frozen wood and infused it with his flame before modeling it with his Ax into a crude pair or grips, he didn't have any form of glue but was pleasantly surprised that his fire made the whole thing hold in one piece. The final product ended being an ugly pitch-black shortsword with light-blue energy similar to souls in agony coming from its blade. When he took it to examine it further, he got a notification: [Item created!]: [Death infused sword.] Attack +3 Dexterity +2 Agility +1 Passive effect: [Soul reaper]: The Death infused sword automatically collects the souls killed by its blade to strengthening itself. Its master will absorb part of the spiritual fo

Each long sword costs 500 gold coins. As legal professions are rare, magical equipment is particularly expensive in this world. A ring that can cast the first level spell 'Mage Armour' costs 500 coins, a second level spell costs 2,000 coins and a third level spell costs 6,000 coins. From the third level, it cannot be replenished automatically and must be replenished by a caster of the appropriate level. Even if ordinary magical equipment is not used, it will reach the end of its life in about a hundred years, so it is simply not affordable for ordinary nobles.

He better have them or we'll need a new cook. I cast a final glance at the door that holds my bride behind it. She is safe and if she is smart, she will do my bidding and prepare herself. I'm not sure why I returned her sword. Truly it's only a nuisance. Though my scales can't protect me in human form, I am deadlier than any mere human female. *** Roxanne

"Clan Sköll? Det er ikke mulig. Sköll-klanen forsvant i min fars tid. (That's not possible. The Sköll Clan disappeared in my father's time.)" The sword disappeared from his neck as did the boots from his back. Taking these actions as permission, Brand slowly turned over and sat up. He first saw the large warrior draped in multiple furs and with an ax in his hand and a longsword strapped to his back. The man's black eyes bore into his, daring him to make one wrong move so he could play with his favorite toy and remove Brand's heart from his chest with it.