Sword Dynasty Novels & Stories

Theo drag his body out of the stream to shore and laid back making the huffing sound. It was Theo first battle, and it was the hardest battle of all, and as well as Theo regret not bringing his sword, because it would be a little bit easy, with the black sword, over time during the practices, Theo notice that the black sword was too sharp, and feel regretted and thankful for the person who sold it without knowing anything.

Sekora asked. “You will be able to recognize them by the symbols on the hilt, first there is the Tsunami sword recognizable by the wave, next is the Earth breaker sword represented by broken earth, next is the Shadow sword represented by a ghost, next is the Sun saber represented by a sun, next is the Phoenix Wing sword recognized by wings, next is the Speed sword represented by a rabbit and finally there is the Power sword represented by a bull.” D2 replied going back to the lighter tone of voice.

The only problem was what I would use to hit it. I couldn’t draw NightSword. Not only was the sword’s legend so tightly woven with both fact and fiction, it was said to belong only to rightful alphas of the packs. It had been passed down from dynasty to dynasty, making its way safely from father to son until it was lost almost five hundred years ago. A while back, I would’ve called the Sword’s tale make-believe. Not now. Not when I found and bonded it.

The moment I sat down on a chair and took off my sarong, a very handsome Asian man my age showed. He wore a white uniform, carried a tray of drink glasses. empty balls balancing on one hand and gave a smile: - Good afternoon Miss. Can I bring you a drink? A snack? “What are those drinks with the little colored umbrellas?” He smiled. "I figured you might want one of those girly drinks." this is the specialty from Diamond Star, a mix of fruit juice and coconut liqueur with Mexican rum. Or, of course, we have the classic margarita.

Her brows were slightly frowned as she was understanding why he was being too considerate or was it not considerate? The Flaming Red Fire of Lava is a very powerful sword that can kill thousands of people with one swift move. It can even end hundreds of lives of monsters. It was so strong that everyone wanted it, but it came to an end when Vailan, when he was still a Crown Prince, got it out of accident and no one has seen its appearance after that.

BLADE Chapter One Emiliana's POV At the moment, the only thing on my mind was how to get out of this tight, exposing, goddamn wedding dress. The driver pulled over at a huge mansion. The bodyguards alighted and opened the car door for us. I stepped down and turned back, expecting my husband to step out of the car but he stepped out from the other side and slammed the door shut. I was startled by his action. Then he began to walk inside without waiting for me.

"We don't need to go to Lin's house. Let's go to my place so I can change. This is a minor wound. I can handle it myself." Ludriev took her spirit sword she had previously put on the side of the arena, and followed him without anymore words. Spirit sword was forged in a special method for those who reached a certain level in swordsmanship. The sword was unique and believed to be sacred, as it had its own spirit, which, if it didn't feel a strong connection with the wielder, they wouldn't be able to use it. Therefore, usually a sword spirit only had one owner and vice versa.

"Let's find you a more worthy opponent this time. Sigurd!" The giant slowly made his way to stand in front of Brand, his great longsword held loosely in his massive hand. The newcomer took up his own blade and nodded once. Rather than striking immediately, the two large men circled each other taking each other's measure. Sigurd tired of the waiting first and struck a blow. Brand seemed to parry it easily, but from that moment, the fight was on.

Or had they, like her, walked quietly toward the fire, holding onto pride as their last armor? The dragonkin said nothing. Offered no comfort. But one, the shorter one with the cruel smile, glanced at her just once before the Sanctum doors came into view. Not pity. Not warning. Something older, stranger. Recognition. By the time they stood her before the Sanctum doors, her heart was hammering. The corridor outside was lined in red-veined stone and unlit braziers. The doors themselves loomed—twice her height, black as volcanic glass, engraved with an emblem she didn’t recognize: a coiled dragon wrapped around a bleeding sun.

The memories of the borderlands, the hunts, the bloodshed—they all blurred into the background. Only the blade remained. Steel. Control. Focus. He spun the sword once and brought it down in a clean strike that would have split a skull from crown to jaw. The sound echoed softly across the courtyard. Then— “You train early.” The voice came from behind him. Deep. Smooth. Ancient. Adrian froze instantly. His instincts reacted before his thoughts did. He turned and dropped to one knee. “My king.” King Vaelreth stood near the entrance of the courtyard, his dark cloak stirring slightly in the cold morning wind.