The Blade Of The Immortal Novels & Stories

The figure was massive, dressed in an ancient-looking battle suit and brandishing a long sword. The body had half rotted away, yet it still emanated a powerful and insurmountable aura. Nova knew she was up against an extraordinary immortal. She readied herself, gripping her blade as she prepared for a battle with a formidable enemy. An overwhelming force spread out as the zombie immortal's sword radiated with a dark glow. It seemed capable of annihilating everything in its path.

My body trembled, not from weakness but from the overwhelming surge of power causing a cascade in my veins. The First Vessel— She was bathed in celestial light, glowing just like the moonlight. I stood beside her, droplets of blood glistening on her palms. Her blood didn’t look ordinary, it seemed divine. She indeed was immortal. With a single drop, she carved through the air, shaping a sword with glowing crimson edges. The blade shimmered with ancient runes and pulsed like a heartbeat.

Neron said. " No, No Neron...Akron is a moron and I know that, I just can't waste my Omnipotent time dealing with a puppet like him, I could just erase him from Existence right now but it won't be fun, I need to have fun " Derek said and he giggled. " What are you up to Derek? " Neron asked. " The Dark Blade of Light has been an Immortal slayer all this while, It can awaken dark and light beings from their slumbers with ease, I am Omnipotent right? I am just like the Creator but not like him Really "

When Jacket was providing cover for him, Jim had already started forming a mystic technique, channeling all his spiritual power into the blade. In a moment, Jim's sword underwent a bizarre transformation. The entire long blade was now fiery red, flames engulfing it. The flames resembled lava, continuously dripping from the blade like flowing blood. Jim's momentum drastically changed; he looked like a Shura returned from hell. He stared fixedly at Sebastian, the flames on the blade reflecting in his pupils. For a moment, he truly seemed like a Shura returned from the abyss. "I'll take your life, in memory of my brother!"

The hardening between his legs, the way his fangs elongated just from her scent, alerted him to just how inviting she was to him. She felt it to. The heavy scent of her arousal wafted towards him, pungent yet sweet. Ripples of desire washed over her flesh, cheeks flushing. Yet, she denied it. Of course she would. They had only just met. Being immortal, Malik had learned long ago that life was fleeting. It was best to simply take what you wanted, when you wanted it. But with Annabelle, Malik found himself unable to take what he desired from her. He ached to hear words of acceptance fall from her tongue. Until that moment, he would do nothing to break her.

I take a defensive stance and pull the switchblade from the sheath I keep strapped to my upper thigh. “Justice, I need you!” “Obsidian?” She gasps in disbelief. “This can’t be. Brace yourself, child!” As the wolf charges closer, he launches himself in the air. I run forward, diving to get under him. I land on my back and jam the blade in the air. My teeth grind together as it rips through the wolf’s underbelly. The sound of his skin tearing is nauseating. Warm blood splatters on my face as he passes overtop of me.

I did, and they continued chanting. “The one who had killed the immortals must be killed.” “Kill the immortal's murderer!!!!!!”

Aziz murmured a snarky remark, so only I could hear. I didn’t spare him a glance, instead. “Uncle, do you want me to?” “Yes,” Eren said. “Bring the scimitar.” I took the other curved blade from its box. Not a hellblade flashing a ruby, just good old steel. The old man’s eyes lit when it flashed. He set the cane aside with his thumb stroking the curve of the blade. “Magnificent,” he breathed. “This blade looks so good. Can you fix it up for me before purchase? sharpen it, nothing vulgar since it is a gift.”

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.