The Sword Of Damocles Novels & Stories

"And if anyone was to be given birth, the child needs to die or the world suffers for it." The eldest heaved a sigh and bent down, drawing out the sword. "Take." She gestured it to Dylan. "Do what you must do. Anything even, positive or negative, you'd make sure you do what it is to be done." Dylan collected it, bowed, and exited the door. __________________________________________ "Rumor has it that the sword lies deep in the shadows." Hoots said. "Yes, it does. That shadow is there." Wahika pointed at the dark room."

Lloyd fell silent, not answering immediately. After a moment, he seemed to make a difficult decision and said, “If it truly comes to that… I will summon the Sword of Zeus and go down together with Old Hagstorm!” The Sword of Zeus! This legendary weapon in the Obaro continent was said to be the sword of the ancient king of gods, Zeus. It possessed unparalleled divine power, but the cost of using it was heavy. Alexander was filled with distress and asked, “Elder, is that the only solution?”

Only the rightful king of Wysteria can touch the sword and the rest will turn into ashes and will never be able to be reborn again. He looked at the sentinels and Stefano was already there. "This sword will kill anyone who touches it aside from me. Please inform everyone not to touch this if you value your life." Elijah promised. This is a warning because this sword is very dangerous. This sword can kill the dark lord and it is very powerful. The sentinels were quickly appalled. Now that they had seen what had happened to the beast no one would dare touch the sword.

The second the sword was pulled out, dragon-like flames instantly surged out from the sword’s blade… A sinister smile on his face, the shadowy figure then lifted the sword high as he laughed arrogantly before declaring, “The Sword of Might… It’s finally mine! The world is going to be mine soon!”

she exclaimed, as she pierced the knife on my chest. “D-doom…”

Nazneen's throat was being slit by the fearless Queen of King Nathan. The other woman was terrifyingly afraid. Nathan gave her a gesture and she ran inside the castle with its door being locked from outside and the army of the soldiers were standing in front of it. They had to protect the Princess at all cost. It was a battle between the dragons and the King of medieval times. Then the brave soldier named Cyprus handed the dragon King his magnificent sword. The sword was inherited from him by his forefathers. He clutched the sword tightly in his hand...this sword he was holding right now has been slitting many throats, killing many enemies.

On the pavilion floor lay a sword carved with a dragon, and standing on it was the man who had shouted. He stooped slightly, breath ragged; his eyes were bloodshot, bulging as if they might pop from their sockets. Through gritted teeth he thought, 'Xiu Jian is a damned wretch! I can’t even burn his sword!' Indeed, the trembling, furious man was Huang Fu, and the blade beneath his boot was the Sacred Dragon Sword. He had tried to set the sword aflame—yet not only did the flames refuse to take, the fuel he poured seemed to be absorbed and vanished, drying as if swallowed by the metal itself.

The command hung in the air like a sword about to fall. * * *

“Are you sure that if we insist upon your innocence, evidence would not come out to haunt us?” “Any evidence would be fabricated,” he responded with a nonchalant shrug. “They have the sword,” Faris butted in. “Once they took you, they came back for the sword.” “A sword is a sword,” he continued with the nonchalant act. “The Moon’s Sword was blessed by the goddess long ago during the founding of Deimos. It was used to eliminate threats to the monarchy. Is there any record of it turning people to rotten corpses with a single swing?”

The realization disarmed her more effectively than any feint. She released the sword, taking a step back. "Then we understand each other," she said, her voice losing its edge. "You see a weapon. I see a cage. We're both prisoners of this... purpose." He held the practice sword, looking momentarily wrong-footed by her retreat. He studied the crude blade, then her face. The anger seemed to drain from him, leaving a weary, cold curiosity. "What are you, really? A spy for your father? A trained assassin sent to unsettle the court?"