The Silent Blade Novels & Stories

I glare at him, my brows frowned. "She most certainly does. See I pretty much know everything about our students except her. She doesn't talk about her family and nobody at The Academy seems to know anything either. Even the information given to the school after she joined was vague...” He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes trained on me, “All the school knows about the Silent Student is that she comes from a rich family that possibly has connections to the chairman and that her name is Atlas Winters. She's practically a ghost at The Academy. Did you know that her age isn’t even in our system?"

With a single, fluid motion, I drove my right ceramic blade forward, the sharp edge slicing cleanly through the soft mesh of his throat guard and sinking deep into his chest. Silas’s eyes went completely wide, his breath catching in his throat with a wet, choked rattle as the blade found its target. The dark fury that had driven him to slaughter my mother, my father, and my little sister thirteen years ago vanished from his gaze, replaced by a blank, empty stare as the life quickly drained from his body. I held the hilt steady until his hands dropped into the dirt, his heavy head falling forward against his chest as the final bell of his life stopped ringing. It was over.

Briella looked thrilled, gazing at Woody with an expression full of excitement. "Young man, the fact that you can remain so calm in my presence only points to one thing." Ghost Blade picked up a sharp knife with barbs and said with a sinister tone, "You obviously don't know who I am, which is why ignorance makes you fearless. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Ghost Blade. Very soon, you'll truly understand why I have this name, because I'm going to peel your skin off inch by inch and lay it in front of you!

Not the world. I ripped the blade from Veyra’s hand. And for a heartbeat— The valley went silent. Not the silence of peace. The silence of things holding their breath before they break. The blade pulsed in my grip, black light crawling over the steel like ink bleeding through paper. And in the distance— Kael lifted his head. Slow. Sharp. And smiled. Not at the Warlord. At me.

The engines roared, shattering the eerie silence that had been pressing down on us. And then— That laugh. Low. Drawn-out. Not human. Blade froze, his head whipping toward the shadows between the shipping crates. “You hear it?” I rasped. “Yeah,” he said tightly. “And it’s too damn close.” The sound slithered again, curling cold down my spine. “Show yourself!” Blade barked, gun already in his hand. Nothing. Just silence. Then—metal screeched overhead. A figure moved on the container tops, fast, silent, gone before my eyes could catch detail.

I shouted. I stepped out from behind Rowan. The obsidian blade in my hand felt different now. It wasn't just a heavy piece of stone. It was light, almost weightless, and it thrummed with the soft, white light of the girl I had seen in the warehouse. It was the **Blade of the Unsaid**. Every word I had swallowed, every dream I had put aside for the sake of survival, every "I love you" that had been lost in the roar of battle—it was all there, feeding the light. Vane pivoted, his liquid form spinning like a drill. He ignored Rowan and came for me. He was fast—too fast for a human to track. He was a blur of silver and shadow.

The snores died immediately. "Not again," Blade whines quietly. I pushed Blade's cellphone into my pocket to hide the light and remained transfixed in place holding my breath. It was a miracle the glass hadn't shattered. A heavy snore ripped through the air and only then, did I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief. "We need to hurry up," Blade breathe down the side of my neck again and my heart thumped in my chest. I hadn't heard him approaching. He moved as silently as the wind. I turned around and frowned up at him.

The basement was a place of absolute silence and icy steel. Silas Thorne sat at his workbench, the only illumination coming from a high-intensity lamp that turned the room into a study of harsh highlights and abyssal shadows. His collection, which included not only weapons but also tools for ontological correction, was laid out on the clean white cloth in front of him. To Silas, the blade was the ultimate truth. A gun was a coward’s distance, a mechanical abstraction that turned a man into a statistic with the twitch of a finger. But a blade—a blade required proximity. It required the other person to acknowledge it. It was the oldest conversation in human history, and Silas was its most

He crouched, remaining motionless and silent and simply waited. Motionlessly and wordlessly, I walked towards his hideout. He flinched when he saw me and then he raised a dagger directly at me. Lunging straight for me, Blades shot out, sharp and glistening. Time slowed. The hall burst into different sounds; screams, anguish, the thunder of metal on metal– sword against sword, bladed against blades and swords against blades.

There was so much blood that the front part of her cloth was completely soaked, and what was worse, there was a large piece of metal embedded into the left part of her chest. “Sophia…” He whimpered as his mom and Doris finally made their way to them. Doris gasped at the sight in front of her while her mom broke down into tears. Sophia slowly opened her eyes and she stared at the people in front of her. Everything was blurry to her at first but then, her vision became clearer but not totally. “Oh my goodness! Do something!!” Their mom cried out as she grabbed the collar of one of the medics, but Doris stopped her before she did something worse to the medic.