Sword Oratoria Novels & Stories

Edgar swung his sword from an unexpected angle, aiming to break through Adrian’s defenses. Adrian sneered and said, "You must have a death wish!" Suddenly, a sword energy appeared in Adrian’s hand, transforming into a radiant arc that shot forward and tore through everything in its path. "What kind of sword technique is this?" Edgar was taken aback, his gaze filled with disbelief as he watched Adrian unleash a technique he couldn’t fully comprehend. He forced himself to calm down and said, "No matter how clever your techniques, I’ll still kill you!" With that, he swung his sword again, and this time, he believed that he'd land a fatal blow. However, Adrian remained standing calmly. He releas

his frown grew thick, “but your plans to conquer the West won’t change.” “Jerrod my friend, you have betrayed life itself.” King Orrick draws the Katana blade hanging from a scabbard on his back. “Forgive me old friend, lives depend on your death.” Draws the long sword hanging across his back. Noticing the sudden movement of Jerrod’s eyes, King Orrick quickly flipped upwards, escaping the fatal slash from a sword. Landing on both legs King Orrick raised his gaze to see his foe. “Never expected this from you Isaac.” He spoke shaking his head.

Finally Lixue was pushed back and further back, Lixue then gave a stab at Fang Xue's harmless body. however, Fang Xue easily blocked his attack again. "Not bad! You're trying to get your father to give up huh? Don't underestimate this old man." Fang Xue then gave off her killing aura, it made Lixue's body tremble. "Wait dad, what are you going to do?" Lixue asked with a face that grimaced from the intense pressure from her father's aura. "This is called the killing aura. Every experienced swordsman has this kind of pressure. I warn Li'er never to be afraid of this kind of pressure, just deal with it with all your best moves, understand." Fang Xue said while stroking her daughter's head.

’ everybody assumed impatiently. Tension of the crowd was aroused in alarm, their hearts raced with unwelcoming anticipation. Finally, a figure emerged from the huge waves as a victor, the sword of Eryndor– Eryndor, exhausted but triumphant, his Conch shell still clutched in his hand.

“That’s a first.” Dorian actually whistles, low and delighted. “Nobody’s ever pulled that sword before. It’s been sitting there for half a century. Most hunters skip right past it.” I look at Rion, who looks back as if seeing me for the first time. “That’s an Orion blade,” he says quietly. Then, to Edward and Dorian: “Impossible. I thought it was a replica.” Edward grins. “Not a replica if it works, my friend.” Rion approaches, not touching the blade but examining the hilt—the veins of blue, the worn areas where fingers had gripped it long ago. “This was supposed to be ceremonial. A blessing, not a weapon. You’re not supposed to be able to fight with it.”

She looked like she was born for this, born with a sword in her hand. “Aurora is marvelous. She is born for this.” Shalom took a gulp of his water. “And you are getting acquainted with it.” Art grunted in response. To be honest, he still felt strange holding the gilded hilt of the sword. His sword shone in the moon light, pure power. Its hilt was carved with ancient words. It was beauty and strength molded to be one. It was as powerful a weapon, as it was an art. And Shalom said it was Isaiah’s, the one he had used in that battle where he had died. He had said that Théoden’s blood in them gave it more power, more glory.

The air crackled with energy as her obscure words, which only the Gods could hear, filled the hall, weaving a web of power that only she could command. Suddenly, a whirlwind of shimmering swords materialised around the traitors, their blades gleaming with a silvery light. Each sword represented a facet of the crimes committed by the accused, a manifestation of the justice that would be meted out. The swords spun faster and faster, creating a mesmerising dance of light and Aurōraítēs, a metal of shimmering colours like the Mundane Realm's Northern Lights, entrancing the onlookers. The traitors stood frozen in place, their eyes wide with fear as they realised the full extent of the Queen's wra

With a flourish of his broken sword, the Blood Moon Tempest morphed into crimson dragons that surged in every direction. These dragons carried an intense sword intent, capable of obliterating anything in their path. Cries, roars, and explosions blended together, reminiscent of a hellish symphony, painting a scene of extreme devastation. Orabella gasped, "Gideon, I didn't realize you had mastered such a formidable sword technique. I underestimated you!" "Stick with me, and you'll discover even more surprises. Who knows, you might even fall for me?" "Keep dreaming!" Orabella replied with a dismissive look.

There were around a thousand of them, but Harriet held them by herself with her . The swords and the spears from all around Almandine City, even outside of it, had floated and started to glow with purple . All of them formed a thousand upon thousand of and , ready to pierce into the Wyvern's body. Behind her, Orcenal vomited blood. He fell to his knees, and his body started to glow and disintegrate into thousands of light particles. While Harriet's eyes glowed in golden and purple light, maintaining her connection with Liam, as well as preparing the biggest in the history of mankind.

The werewolf calmly removed the bundle from his back, put it on the table and began to unfold it. “I need a scabbard for this sword,” he explained. Zoran stared in amazement at the elegant weapon, the sword was a Wistolian, a witchcraft sword meant for a mage warrior. Almost no one owned such swords, they were presented only to the elite, those whom the supreme sorceress considered worthy ... Once he had been to Vistolz, and even there only a few walked with such weapons. And they were all great masters. Kerton-deso - as they were called, magician warriors, who at the same time masterfully master both the art of combat and witchcraft.