The Sword Of Hades Novels & Stories

At the time, the king had spared him purely out of curiosity. Curiosity rarely lasted long. But Adrian had. And now he stood below in the courtyard, carrying the blade of the crown. Vaelreth leaned forward slightly. The executioner’s armor was dark and simple, unlike the elaborate armor worn by the demon soldiers. It was practical. Scarred by years of battle and use. The sword resting against Adrian’s shoulder was enormous—far too large for most men to wield easily. Yet he carried it as if it belonged there. As if the blade itself had chosen him.

It was Leonard. When Leonard was about to approach Hadley and Dakota, he swung his arm. In an instant, a dazzling and extremely domineering longsword flew out of his hand. The longsword flew thousands of meters away, and it suddenly turned into an incredibly steep mountain, falling from the sky and landing with a loud bang. With the violent roar of the mountain, Leonard also landed and stood in front of Hadley and Dakota. "How's it going?" Hadley looked at Leonard.

If only it was too easy to concentrate on her work and stop remembering things. Finally the son of a god had found out that he also needed a goddess to feel himself completed. The Son of Hades was finally a God. He had found his queen, his master mind, his last piece, his soul mate, and his goddess. And he was going to put her under his rules, of course, not before she put him under hers.

When he moved towards the wine table, he appeared dissatisfied, but Thanatos immediately noted Hades' unsteady displacements and so Thanatos immediately acted for his friend. Thanatos' long and silky metallic lavender hair waved in the thin air as he approached Hades, making his voluntary efforts to assist Hades with another helping of his liquor. There was no denying that the servant was second only to Hades in terms of physical attractiveness. And as Thanatos returned the bottle to the wine table, a glimmer of the lamp flashed on his dazzling gray eyes, which matched his pale white skin well enough, making him appear more angelic than the monster everyone had imagined him to be.

" There must be a loophole, there is always one " " There may be one " " What is it ? " Celea asked exited to finally get to hear the answer to the question she always wanted to know " Your father's sword " " Do you mean the one he stabbed my father with ? " Celea asked referring to when the devil had stabbed her father right in front of her at the war " No, there is another one " " So where can I find it ? " " When the sun and moon will meet again, you will know the answer "

Cain stretched his arms out at his sides, a dual sword in each hand. The pommels were silver, swirling and curving like crescent moons as they inched down the obsidian blades. His dark hair cascaded down his shoulders. When paired with the armor and swords, Cain looked as deadly as a warrior for the House Viotto should.

he whispered with his mocking tone. In the middle of the bloodshed inside the temple the two of them were dancing with their swords clanged while breathing heavily. One was trying to kill the other one while the other one was enjoying the every bit of memories they will share for the last time. Talia's sword was able to break the gap between them and stabbed his chest. She thrust her sword again and gritted her teeth upon seeing the blood that came out from his mouth. Hades gripped the sword that was struck on his chest. He felt the familiar feeling of death, it was the same as the past. The difference is that the sword that was stab on his chest was from his love.

He pressed on the left hilt of the dagger, where a diamond piece reshaped the dagger into a long shinny sword. The sword didn't just shine, it glowed, one cut from the sword could be enough to kill a low tier demon, even a little slice. He could hear and feel their fear and repulsion towards him. “Filthy Wolf, he dares to hold the goddesses sword against us when he is also one of us.” The deep, sultry voice spoke from the shadows, this didn't bother Darkness however, all he wanted was his human, and he would leave. The time for war hadn't arrived yet.

The long wait was over; the final battle had begun. Veyra stood at the front of her army, her cloak billowing in the gusts of wind that whipped around her like the fury of the storm itself. Her hand rested on the hilt of the Sword of Zevi, its blade shimmering with moonfire—a weapon that had seen countless battles, but none like the one she was about to lead. The sword was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of everything they had fought for. Of the sacrifices that had been made. Of the blood that had been spilled.

The Princess slowly moved her gaze away from her injured hand (it will mend itself as long as she didn’t touch it) the prized sword of the Sanscrofts’ at her feet. The silver blade that was identical to the color of her knight’s eyes, she gazed at it for the very first time with rapt attention–Hel was its name, the sword that was named after the goddess of Niflheim in Norse mythology, if she was not mistaken… and though her family’s heirloom sword, Bellona, was nearly as old as the Northern kingdom itself, Hel was a different story altogether when it comes to age… it was even claimed to have slain an actual demon according to an old legend. Though how and why it had managed to hurt her, she