Novel & Cerita Sword Phighting Fanart

We had to succeed. The clash of swords, the cries of the wounded, and the shouts of commands were heard all over the air. In the midst of this chaos, I faced Arit, the formidable warlord of the Rare breeds. She moved with a deadly grace, her every strike precise and powerful. I parried her blows, feeling the weight of each clash, shake through my body.

“That’s the wrong mindset. You fight to win. To tear down your opponent and rise from the dust before he can breathe again.” A silence followed after my words. I dropped my jacket to the ground, stepping into one of the circles. A hush fell as I pointed to the nearest warrior among the trainers. “You. Come.” The man was broad shouldered and had a scar running down his cheek, seasoned enough to know I wasn’t offering him an easy test. He nodded and stepped forward, bow in hand. “Blade,” I corrected, tossing him a wooden sword from one of the baskets kept. He caught it, adjusted his grip, and came at me without hesitation.

And the longer he absorbed the Reiki, the rate of absorption increased as well. Through it all, no one noticed that he was calmly cultivating—not even the three Danmarch elders who had slipped in to assassinate him had expected their target to have blended into their own camp! Soon, Caleb extended his sense into the ring Brax provided and began to practice with the sword art manual inside. "Legiondeath Sixteen…!" His eyes narrowed as he flipped through the pages, where each style and corresponding sword art was written. For speed and assassination, it was the Windrider, Windpiercer, Windsearer, and Windblazer!

Master Shen shouted. We didn't hold back anymore. We attacked all at once! "WIND PIERCING!" Aria shot sharp air blades. "HOLY BLADE!" Isabella created a sword of light and threw it. "VOLKOV RAIN!" I fired my guns continuously, bullets filled with dark energy. "ANCIENT SEALING ART!" Master Shen threw glowing talismans that exploded on contact. Everything hit Zeref at the same time! A massive explosion covered the entire area!

[ BLUE DRAGON STYLE ] [ FIRST FORM ] “Draconic Rush …” Arth extended his sword as it began to glow in blue light. The knight was also preparing a sword skill, his sword lighting up. Then they both charged towards each other, striking their gleaming blades. A powerful force from the impact blasted around them, causing the glass windows to break and shatter. ‘Let’s get this done, Blackwinter. I trust in you,’ Arth thought, his blood flow raging wildly through his veins as he parried against his opponent.

"Look at yourself, Carrie." I glared at him and he met my gaze, forcing me to look down at myself. Admittedly, it was pretty bad. My crop top had become a deep red colour and the material was in shreds, exposing flashes of my purple lace bra. Bloodstained my skin in huge patches and bites and scratches pulled at my skin. I ran my tongue over my lips, feeling the split of my bottom lip and the extent of the intense swelling. "Okay, so it was a rough friendly fight, big deal. Dante looked just as bad."

Even their eyes have never shown fazed every time they've sliced the throat of their opponent. Himari is now facing a young adult man holding an ax. The nasty blade was dripping with fresh blood of his victims. Himari remained calm, yet her azure eyes are flaming like the hottest fire. The right arm is in front of her chest, while the other one was on her back, both hold a weapon. Her firm standing and stunt have a resemblance to western royal swordplay.

The weight of his sword felt like an extension of his arm, a part of him as vital as his own heartbeat. As the battle horns blared, signaling the start of the assault, Lucian surged forward. The clash of steel and the roar of warriors filled the air. Lucian’s movements were fluid, almost graceful, as he cut through the enemy ranks. His blade found its mark with lethal precision, each strike deliberate and deadly. He did not blink as he took life after life; the faces of the fallen blurred together in a haze of crimson.

Ram, Nand, and Vipula were locked in their own fierce battles. The masked man's followers swarmed them, but each team member stood resilient, their unique weapons turning the tide in their favor. Ram wielded a double-edged sword, its blade humming with energy. He moved with a ferocity that belied his calm demeanor, each swing of his sword sending enemies sprawling. His strikes were precise, each blow calculated to incapacitate rather than kill, reflecting his disciplined nature. As attackers closed in, he parried and countered with an almost supernatural speed, the sword's glow illuminating his path through the chaos.