The Blade Itself Audiobook Novels & Stories

Slowly, he pulled the blade from its sheath and brought it toward my face. I closed my eyes and held my breath. Relax, Lila. He's not going to kill you with it... I repeated to myself before cautiously opening my eyes again to stare at the most intimidating blade I had ever seen. It looked incredibly heavy, as though it carried the weight of an anchor. I wasn't even sure I could lift it with both hands. "Do you want to know why this blade is called the Blade of Poison?" he asked, raising it into the air to admire it.

My father had told me stories about how he found a hidden cave in our backyard when he was young and stumbled upon an ancient blade that belonged to Vangoda. Had my father known this was going to be my fate? Was he the one who etched my name on the Blade? I decided to take the blade out of its case and hold it. I felt a surge of energy run through my body as soon as my fingers wrapped around the hilt. The blade was light but sturdy, made from an unknown metal that was strong enough to slice through concrete or bone with ease. I could feel its power coursing through me, the same way a soldier feels when he straps on his gun and goes to war. It was as if the blade had chosen me as much as I ha

If everyone thought the same way and concealed themselves, would the slaughter gambit not go on forever, turning into a game of cat-and-mouse? At that moment, a cold voice rang out, "I know what you're thinking." Blade shuddered in fright. Even his breathing stopped. He looked toward the source of the noise and saw Chris walking toward him from a large tree. He seemed composed as if he was walking in his backyard. Compared to how Blade was trembling, Chris was the picture of calmness. A hopeless look flashed in Blade's eyes. He cursed himself for being so unlucky. He did not even make it that far before meeting the strongest of the 10!

He kicked his legs for a couple of times, before he died. His golden blade pierced the ground and landed right next to him. It was still quivering violently and a faint sound could be heard echoing from the blade, as if it was mourning its master's death. Everyone else was angry, but also scared to the bones, and they could not help but stop their movements for a second. "Now is the time for 'Blade Cry'." Qian Lei shouted aggressively. "Clang! Clang!" The golden blades hit against each other and produced a strange sound that penetrated into one's soul, making one suffer in great pain.

“When you're done measuring up, I suggest you come and take a look at this.” “No measuring needed; we all know who the real man is, don’t we, Axel.” Shaking my head at my grandfather’s immature comment, I walked over to where Hector stood with his nose in a book. “Take a look.” Following where his finger pointed, I read the description. “Obsidian Blade. What is it?” I had never heard of it, though I hadn’t heard of half the stuff in this room. “A handcrafted sword made by Hephaestus himself.”

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

you unmade me. "The blade demands blood," a voice whispered beneath the agony—Cael’s voice. Guiding. Twisting. Smiling". My senses collapsed—numb, deadened—swallowed by the silence of submission. Yet again, I was not Henry. Not anymore. Just the Blade. Just ruin it in a man’s shape. It laughed through me—mad, broken, triumphant—as I watched from behind a prison of bone and blood, begging to be free, even as the monster and still, I raised my hands—because the Blade still wasn’t done. It wanted more destruction, more chaos, more blood.

“Keep lying to yourself.” I hum, reaching into my coat pocket. My fingers close around the blade I always carry. “And that's the reason you kidnapped him from his home?” I pull the blade out, staring at the sharp edges. “I'm giving you one last chance before I pull your goddamned insides out.” His breath catches. The color drains from his face when I swipe the blade in the air. It's not the kind of blade that cuts, it peels. It's thin, sharp, surgical. Thinking about the amazing things I'll do with this blade makes my lips curl into a small smile.

Readying himself, he waited for his opportunity. The clash and clang of blades was cacophonous, echoing throughout the chamber like. Their music was harsh, orchestral. In it could be heard the highs and lows of the individual steels’ tone. The retreats and advances. The bang of blade edges meeting, the scraping slash, the high ringing song of the poignard, silence between recoveries, the high tonal, clangorous flunge, was exacting and terrible to hear.

"If you get sweaty or dusty at the border, use this!" "We stayed up all night making them, you know!" Liora added, puffing out her chest with immense pride. Lucas merely rolled his eyes—giving them that classic, unbothered trooling gaze he always reserved for his cousins' theatrical antics. Ignoring the floral-stitched handkerchiefs entirely, Lucas stepped forward with a proud, tall posture. With a dramatic, deliberate motion, he patted the new scabbard at his hip, proudly showing off the rune-engraved steel blade forged specifically by Althea.