Souls Of Steel Novels & Stories

His palms were rough, calloused from the sword, but they were the only warm thing left in this city. "Kaima, listen to me. We’ve fought the High Priest. We’ve walked through the Ever-Void. We’ve looked the Tailor in his spinning eyes and we didn't blink. Mr. Vane and his 'investors'... they think they can own a soul because they have a contract. But a soul isn't a line of credit. It’s a flame."

Each one pulsed with a soft light, waiting for its master. "How about this one?" Soren grabbed the smallest, dullest stone. "It suits your current station." "It's perfect," I nodded. He stared, clearly thrown off by my compliance. "And these," his voice grew more vicious. "A Soul Shroud, a Spirit Totem, an Eternal Portrait. If you're going to put on a show, might as well go all out!" "Fine." "You..." he glared at me. "What the hell is your game?"

Only if I had known my soul would have been sold for nothing, I would have ended it. The room hadn't changed a bit all these years. Same dark walls that made the room intimidating and the absolute perfection in the way it was organized just as its owner, hiding all that evil just barely underneath the surface, simmering and waiting for the perfect time to strike its prey. I repressed a shudder and took a seat waiting for him to notice my presence in the room. He was writing in a journal on the desk, I had always wondered what he wrote in there, the number of people he killed, or the latest mission he accomplished?

Dax POV The beast hit the soldiers like a boulder crashing down a ravine, unstoppable and merciless. One swipe of its massive paw shattered a man’s shield into splinters, the wood spraying like broken bones. Screams tore through the gulley, sharp and jagged, as soldiers stumbled over loose shale, their blades clattering uselessly against the stone. The air was thick with dust and the copper tang of blood, the ground trembling beneath the creature’s weight. Its fur shimmered unnaturally, laced with silver veins that pulsed like molten light, casting eerie shadows across the jagged walls of the gulley. No natural thing carried that glow. This was no mere beast—it was a forged wrongness, a walk

"The Grand Mint is in the center of the Iron-Spires. It's a fortress of Null-Generators and porcelain armor. We're Outcasts, Lyra. We can't wage a frontal assault on the Syndicate's capital." "We won't need an army," Lyra said, wrapping herself in a heavy, lead-lined cloak to hide her glowing form. She looked at Varick and Jace—the three original Steam-Lords. "Malakor built a counterfeit soul using pressure and vibration. We're going to go to his city and show him what happens when a real soul undergoes a catastrophic pressure release."

Undead Creations: Bone Knight: A towering behemoth clad in armour forged from the very bones of the fallen. These warriors are formidable in battle, their strength augmented by the souls of countless warriors bound within their skeletal frame. Summoning a Bone Knight requires a vast number of souls and a deep connection to the power of death. Wraith Stalker: A spectral assassin, swift and deadly, composed of pure ethereal energy. Wraith Stalkers are masters of stealth and surprise, their forms flickering in and out of existence, leaving trails of icy cold in their wake.

"We can't fight that. We don't have enough steel in the world." "They are immune to steel," I said, my voice eerily calm as I gripped the freezing obsidian stone of the wall. I looked down into the courtyard. The shield wall was buckling. Torin had taken a massive blow to the shoulder from a hulking, stitched-together monstrosity. Silas was fighting three Husks at once, his armor covered in glowing green sludge. They needed artillery. I closed my eyes. I didn't reach for the ocean of power inside my core. I didn't try to summon the blinding, spherical shockwave that had nearly stopped my heart.

Nate abruptly stopped reading, massaging his temples thinking that he was too mature to believe in such ridiculous tales; nevertheless he continued, hoping to find answers that could help shed some light on things he himself could not explain clearly. “It was said that all souls were set free to roam the earth on this holy night of the dead, returning to their eternal resting place at the crack of dawn, but a soul with a vengeance, a link or a chain bounding them to the land of the living may never find its way back into the gates of the afterlife…. Now what the hell does that mean? Are they saying a bunch of dead people usually wakes up on Peter Pak but if they have unfinished business they

I need to give her a gift card for the effort. Now, I can’t think of anything else just my job. And my job is to find that scumbag and beat the shit out of him. But before that, I need to ask some questions. Andreas mentioned some dragon scales, he needs. I don’t know why the fuck he always searches for these kinds of stuff, but I gladly help him. He saved my life, it’s the least I can do for him.

There were strict levels and even tribes. The dead souls formed from flesh and blood piled up here densely and kept squirming. Among the dead souls, there were powerful ones. At this time, they already had steel-like bodies. They sat on the throne made of bones and looked around. Roars, roars, rotting and dilapidated auras filled every corner. This was a country of gods and devils. If the cultivators of the trial test broke in here alone, even if they were not eroded by the Death Qi, they would be immediately torn to pieces by these souls.