The Blade Itself Character Art Novels & Stories

A withered bone sat crookedly in a corner inside the tomb, a long sword on the left and a half-arm-length cold blade on the right. “Blade Hero.” The man in white walked toward that withered bone at the first opportunity. At this moment, this man, who had been able to keep his mind calm before, revealed a hint of excitement. “This is Blade Hero.” Saying that, he looked at the two sides of the Blade Hero’s skeleton and said, “Sword of Grace and Heavenly Conquering Blade, these are the two divine weapons possessed by Blade Hero.” “Sword of Grace and Heavenly Conquering Blade?”

It's a lot different when you're in the shit. My blade started to glow blue. I was preparing for a [Raiden's Finger]. I lifted my sword into the air forming a large blue electric blade. I was going to cut down Syllia when a dwarf appeared in front of her. He had a knife in each hand, and around his feet, wind was swirling.

The arena, a vast expanse of cracked stone and scorched earth, bore witness to the fierce clash between two titans. Blade, known for his relentless aggression and lightning-fast strikes, had seemed invincible to many. His reputation was built on an impressive string of victories, each one a testament to his unmatched skill and brute strength. His movements were fluid and precise, his blade a blur of deadly steel that cut through the air with lethal intent. But today, the tide had turned.

The silver hair bloomed under the faint moonlight peeping through the leaves, reflecting pale light like threads of metal. I could not see his face clearly, but the sight of his broad back alone made my breathing hitch slightly. My heart started hammering inside my chest. "Don't fall in love," Moon warned. "I am not," I whispered quickly, though my pulse refused to calm down. My attention immediately shifted to his wound. A dagger had been driven deep into his back shoulder. The blade glinted faintly beneath the moonlight. Even from this distance, I could recognize the dull gray coating along the metal.

The Anatomy of the Thermal-Resonance Blade I began the process with the precision of a surgeon. I laid my obsidian blade—the one that had tasted the blood of the Shadow Alpha—onto the stone table. Using a laser-scalpel from my kit, I carved a hollow channel down the center of the blade, exactly where the 'blood groove' would be. "Leo, Ace... I need you," I called out. The boys stepped forward. They had been training with the Cinder-children, learning how to pull heat from the air without burning their lungs. Ace’s hands were already glowing a deep, volcanic red, while Leo stood as the anchor, his golden aura acting as a containment field.

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.

And in his hand, is a silver blade shaped like a feather. That's the clan symbols! He heats it in a bowl of burning whiskey until the metal glows blue. “Pain is the only honest teacher,” he whispers, pressing the blade to my chest. And my ugly screams erupted. I scream until my throat bleeds. The smell of my own skin cooking makes me gag. But he didn't stop. He carves slow.... Deeper and permanent. Every stroke a letter in a language only monsters speak. When he’s done, he cups my face like a lover.

My reality was the cold, hard fact of our fracture. It happened in the space between one chime of the crystal leaves and the next. A figure detached itself from the dappled shadow of a large, multifaceted tree. It wasn't a creature of the Unwritten Realms, not a narrative entity or a conceptual predator. It was humanoid, clad in armor that seemed to drink the light, a matte black that offered no reflection. Its face was hidden by a smooth, featureless helm. In its hand, it held a blade that was not metal, but a shard of absolute nothingness—a fragment of the same void I had wielded in the canyon.

If a war was knocking on our door then I needed the blade. And I would talk to anyone, even my dead father, if it meant getting it. I held the replica of the blade in my hands as I watched my friend leave my office. Most likely to bring the girl. The plastic was polished enough to deceive anyone that I was holding the real thing. Till it was held and the weight would give it away. She ought to be done with her lessons at this hour. Her request to study elsewhere resonated in my head and I made a mental note to approve of it only if she was able to get me what I wanted.

The air shimmered with energy, a hum vibrating through the room, resonating with my heartbeat. Hours passed, and sweat ran down my brow, but I did not stop. Every swing, every chant, every breath infused the weapon with my soul. When it was finally finished, the blade glowed faintly with a silver-blue light, a heartbeat away from sentience. Holding it, I could feel my tribrid energy resonate within it. This was no ordinary weapon, it was a symbol, a promise, a storm yet to be unleashed.