Swords Of Justice Novels & Stories

All the pain and suffering wolves have caused. As I looked into his eyes, the early morning sun rays illuminated something hanging around his neck. It glittered in the light. Looking down I saw a chain and on that chain was none other than the amethyst ring I had been sent for. Looking back up into his eyes, I did the one thing I could think of. I lifted my knee quickly and slammed it straight into that sensitive spot between his legs. He dropped like a rock into a stream. While he was busy nursing the family jewels with tears in his eyes, I quickly grabbed the necklace from around his neck, unlocked the door, and bolted.

Swoosh! Several beams of sword light ripped through the air. Every beam of sword light meant the death of a saint-level mercenary. Although the saint-level mercenaries had gained the upper hand, six or seven of them died in an instant before they could react. The beams of silver sword light destroyed everything wherever they passed. Even the defense of the saint-level mercenaries was as fragile as a piece of paper in front of these beams. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" The saint-level mercenaries exploded like watermelons smashed by a giant hammer, and blood and bones fell from the sky.

He took a slow step toward me, sword in hand, a mockery of regality in the way he moved. “I gave you life,” he said, voice low. “And now I’ll take it back.” “You didn’t give me anything,” I snapped. “You stole from me. And now you’ve bled my people for your pride.” I didn’t wait. Power surged through me—not rage, not revenge… justice. The kind forged from broken bones and burned bridges. He swung his blade, fast and cruel, but I ducked under it and rammed my hand into his ribs. I didn’t just push with strength—I carved with precision. My claws, half-formed in their shift, sliced through cloth, through skin.