Swords Of Justice Novels & Stories

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

My white fur stood on end. Once she was floating five-storeys high, she released seven swords from the symbolic circles, caging me in place as if I was a prisoner. They were gigantic and in different colors accordingly staying true to what they represented: wind, fire, earth, forest, water, sky, time, and lastly, space. The swords around me created a stronger gravity. I wasn't able to leap out but this didn't worry me. Sofia started chanting and then, the swords began to glow even brighter.

I took a steady breath. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t falter. I tightened my grip. As I raised the sword, a memory struck me. My father carving a blade through the flesh of a man with a depraved smile on his face. He’d enjoyed it. I didn’t. This wasn’t pleasure. This wasn’t revenge. This was justice. I closed my eyes. And swung. The blade sliced clean through, severing his head from his body in one swift motion. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, the sound of it dull and final.

A man breathless, standing valiantly before all his enemies. He was called Cyou chen, a swordsman who earned an unrivaled title. After being trained by the nine demon swordsmen. Chyou Chen travels the world to fight with various expert warriors from all over the country. "Why are you just silent?" Chyou chen asked, while wiping the sweat that filled his forehead. "Quickly hand over all the martial books you haveAfter that we will let you live."

My fingers are on my chin as I crouched and looked at it. The cover or the sheath was silver with a few pints of gold, I don't understand the engravings etched on it. Because of my curiosity, I held it and released it from its sheath. Unlike other sword, its blade was bluish and silver, the handle was wood in color and the cover was glass. It was not as heavy as it look. I lifted it up and swayed it... Imagining I was a samurai fighting some bad guys. I chuckled.

It was filled with copper, silver and gold royals, all to help supply them while they sought out allies. After Boro said his farewell and accepted the money, he quickly made himself busy checking out the two pack horses. He wanted to give Littume and Lord Jetir space for there farewells. He saw Jetir give his son a firm hug and share a few words with him. Then he saw Lord Jetir unwrap the cloth and from it pulled out an ornate brown and gold scabbard. The scabbard was too thick to belong to a rapier, and too wide to be a katan, the long slightly curved, single edge style sword that Boro himself used. This one was as wide as the width of his palm and had two edges to it. A broadblade, an olde

Kira Quezada faked her own death to escape a family legacy that wanted to sell her off like a signature on a contract. Three years later, disguised as a cleaner, she's finally safe, until her new boss looks at her twice and realizes exactly who she is. Luciano Rodriguez doesn't expose her. He makes her an offer instead: marry him, save his dying grandmother's peace of mind, and help him bait the uncle circling his empire like a wolf. It's supposed to be a contract. Nothing more. But the man she was promised to as a girl and the man hunting Luciano's throne are the same person, and he's not done with either of them. As old secrets surface and new ones are made in the dark, Kira has to decide

Turning away from the others, I point the sword in front of me and almost drop it when a flame shoots out but stops before it touches anything. "Whoa," I say softly. When I turn around, I see Wyatt and Jock have swords, but theirs are slightly different. Wyatt's has a blue handle and shoots out ice, enough to freeze someone in place. Jock's has a green handle and shoots out electricity. "I guess you got your answer," Zoe says, staring at the three of us in shock. I smile and nod. "Now we're prepared to kick some ass. Let's see what the next message says, and then we'll head out." I say, putting my sword in the red sheath that magically appeared at my side. Maybe I'll cut Selene some slack as

He had two knives in his hands now and before Slither could even blink, Jake stabbed each knife into his shoulders. “Any last words, Slither?” “Who the fuck are you?” Slither asked him with a grimace. “Wrath.” Jake pulled the knives from his shoulders and turned the blades, swiping them across Slither’s throat. Blood sprayed over Jake’s face, and when he turned around, his eyes looked lifeless. He walked past Weasel, back in the direction of where they left the van, and Weasel jogged to catch up with him. Neither man said a word and Jake climbed into the back of the van, leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes.

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. The hint of respect I’d glimpsed had vanished, replaced by a glacial determination. He took a slow step towards me, his gaze never leaving mine, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, his hand, the one that had traced my jaw so gently, rose again. This time, it didn’t stop at my lips. It cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking the skin just below my eye. "You are a fire, Justice," he conceded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "And I am the storm that will either consume you, or learn to dance with you. But make no mistake, you are mine to weather."