Sword Of Promised Victory 소설 & 이야기

He was just like me, constantly living in a nightmare where he killed his lover. "Since I can't have you, I'll destroy you. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you descend from the heavens and straight to hell, my princess. "I'm going to kill you before putting you back together—you'll be my specimen and perfect lover. Look at the example your best friend has set for you." He pulled the cloth covering his sculpture, revealing a familiar face. It was Joey!

“How much?” Deacon put his hands up. “Celestial weaponry is not sold, Theo. The weapon is fated to a specific owner and that sword was destined to be yours.” Theo nodded, pretending he understood the meaning of it. Deacon pointed to the scabbard with a holster fit for a dagger in the chest. The moment Theo touched the scabbard, the sword shrunk to its original size. Convenient, he thought, as he sheathed the dagger into the scabbard.

They were both gasping, steam rising from their bodies in the cold air. She looked up at him, from the ground, defiance still burning in her eyes, but mixed with the acknowledgement of defeat. "Yield," she said, the word gritted out. He didn't move. He stared down at her, his chest heaving, seeing not a defeated lady, but a warrior on her back. The urge to gloat died unborn. The victory felt hollow, won by chance. He lowered his sword, offering his hand instead. She stared at it for a heartbeat, then took it. His grip was firm, pulling her to her feet with ease.

And I- 'That's so bitter Craig, not all people were the same.' The guy beside me stated with a cheeky smile flustered on his face. My palms instantly fisted at the sight of him. Yukii, stop that. 'Nahh, what for? I'm right anyway, it's not like everyone is the same right? Besides, there are two types of promises. The real and meant one and the real but must be broken one. Either way, promises were made because it's meant and intended to be done but against this world, breaking such thing is inevitable.'

" Kent had a grudge against them. He had been lying low for more than seven years, just waiting for this chance to take revenge. I didn't have the right to speak. And would gladly hold his hands as he unleashes hell on them However, when I thought about Jared's tactics, I couldn't help but worry: "How do you know for certain that you will win? What if you lose? That family and Jared, they’re powerful. I'm afraid." "Afraid of what? Afraid that I can’t beat him and lose everything?" "Mhm." "Heh, that won’t happen. If I wasn’t at least a bit prepared, how would I dare stir things up? I have everything planned for this time; I'll make sure this guy never recovers." Kent chuckled softly. "Sam, yo

Yes, I really loved that picture we presented. Adrian suddenly startled and let go of me. "Oh shit. I forgot an important thing." I looked at him confused as he rummaged through his pockets before smiling in triumph. "Here," he said, holding out another ring. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Adrian Stone, if this is your time and idea of proposing, I'm gonna have to let you down." He rolled his eyes. "No, silly. This is my ring. You see, I've heard that the promise rings come in couples so I bought one for each of us. We were supposed to put them on each other's fingers but I forgot." He finished with a sheepish look.

He was getting under my skin and I didn’t want to have him know it. “We don’t know if I am pregnant yet and there is no way in hell that you are going to tell me what to do” I retorted. “I said that you are not going back to your old pack simply because it is not safe there. If you really feel like you don’t want to be here, then go somewhere else, just not there. I won’t be able to live if I find out that something might have happened to you and I am unable to protect you. After all, all those years ago when you were born and I was only seven years old, I made a promise that I will protect you with my life and I do not intend on breaking that promise any time soon” Rowan said.

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“You can choose whatever material you want to fight each other,” the matriarch declared, her voice echoing through the arena like a spell cast over the room. She stood with her arms outstretched, as if offering them a divine gift—freedom to choose their own destruction. Without hesitation, Dorian moved. His eyes locked onto a long, curved blade resting among the scattered weapons on the ground—a katana. He stepped forward, the steel whispering as he lifted it into his hands. The weight was perfect. Balanced. Silent. Deadly.