The Sword Of Hades の小説・ストーリー

Golden arrows slowly emerged, timidly trying to chase away the shadows of the night. The great fire disc made its appearance. First, it emerged as a red line growing wider and wider until it rose victorious into the angelic blue sky, ready to stretch its arms over the whole earth. It tamed its color slightly, becoming comforting as it shyly soaked up the night frost with which you would think it was soothing its own color.

It had the Ekalot symbol so it was one of it's kind, it was used in rare occasions so it could not be forged. "You do know the rumors of the Ekalot family ring right, Audrey's benefactor must have wanted my murder private, that's why they resulted to using the ring." Fiona says, something like a minor shock hovered her bossoms. "You can't be saying, Dimitri or Delilah planned this, why would one or them go through all this through all this trouble to have you killed." Theodore questions in doubts mostly for Delilah. Fiona smirked slowly exiting the room and repeating Theodore's exact words before. "Who wouldn't ?"

Her essence flowed within his blood. And just like how he would not hesitate to burn down into ashes in her love... He wouldn't hesitate to burn anyone who touches her... Leaving no blood, no bones behind... But only Ashes. Ashes to mixed with the dirt. . His fondness was different from others. His love was hidden in his chest. His thirst was drowning in his mind. His desire was leashed with his soul that all needed HIS PERSEPHONE. . He was The HADES. .

Ezekiel breathed out as he pulled the second fragment of the Sword of the Doombringer from the current owner. He pulled his sword and smiled at the level of destruction he had caused in this world. The Scythe of Death vibrated in his grip, but the power continued to flow smoothly as if Ezekiel's level of darkness was slowly catching up with the darkness that powered the Scythe.

He looked at me as if I was full of shit and I understood that look. The Moon’s Sword had become nothing more than a myth. It was a sword that was said to have belonged to the first Alpha King; a sword kissed by the goddess herself and capable of extraordinary things but no one alive had ever seen it so no one believed it ever existed. I knew where it was because in my past life, this man found it and with it, he forced his brother to his knees and seized the throne.

That day Hades came back home before his usual time. Though he wasn't exactly in terms with me wanting to fight. He believed he wouldn't let any inconvenience slide that far. Though I trusted him, I didn't want to come off as a weak baggage with no knowledge at self defense. Besides, I could help Hades in times of danger that way. I glanced at his collection of probably every variety of knives and picked up a claw-like one. "If you're thinking of fighting a supernatural with that, then you're already dead," Hades spoke from behind. He had put on a pair of black sweatpants with a gray shirt so tight it put his magnificent muscles on a close exhibition.

Francis said with a small frown on his face. “I mentioned it. You must have forgotten,” Ericson replied in a dismissing tone as there was no reason to be discussing what they were gradually heading to. They both stopped talking and the world around them froze but for their hearts which began to race when they saw Sarah lift up a sword above Harold. The sword which was long and without doubt, sharp, glowed and glistened with the light that bath it. The sword was made of silver. The other students were in a pile of each other, everyone of them in one way or the other, unable to help Harold and even themselves.

Shadows slowly emerged from the ground, slithering towards her until it coiled possessively around her limbs and disintegrated with a hiss upon meeting her skin… and the shadows, they felt familiar but so cold–like the hands of a million corpses scrabbling for the thread of life, yanking whatever warmth that she had left to offer. Within her small hands, a black sword with an inscription the color of dried blood bloomed on the silver hilt. She held it close to her chest. Thanatos, it reads. …The God of death. “Rejoice, Proserpina, for I have named you as my heir,” Hades smiled, gazing at her eyes–now devoid of light and color, “The underworld’s goddess of shadows...” There was a hint of prid

And in the middle, on a stone bridge that spanned the torrent, stood Leigh’s father. Lord Valerius was a tall, lean man like a hardened sapling. He wore no armor, only a worn leather jerkin over a grey tunic. His hair was more silver than black, tied back. He held no weapon. He stood alone on the bridge, facing Gryffen’s army, a solitary figure of calm authority.

Their silver armour emitted a faint glow of their own and with it the light reflecting off the polished surfaces mades it hard to see past just bright orbs atop beautiful stallions. "They are descendants of Pegasus, the divine horse." Hades is bound to inform as I drool over the winged beauties. "He is Poseidon' son isn't he?" I ask trusting my memory of how Pegasus was the offspring of the Olympian god Poseidon and Medusa, the scary lady having live snakes for hair. I shudder and almost don't notice Hades nod in approval.