The Sword Of Summer Novels & Stories

“That’s one way to put it.” But before I could even smile, Alexander stepped forward. “Again, but faster this time.” I nodded, adrenaline sparking through me. I reached for another blade, but as I turned, Alexander moved in at the same time, correcting my stance. The motion was too quick. And his arm, holding another kunai, accidentally grazed mine. A sharp pain flared. “Ah!” Blood welled up just below my elbow, a thin red line. “Summer!” His voice broke the air, raw, terrified. He dropped the blade instantly and grabbed my wrist, inspecting the cut. “Damn it, I didn’t mean—”

Cameo asked from behind me as I stepped into the air-conditioned space. I ignored him. My fingers drifted lazily over the weapons. Metal kissing my skin, while one name burned through my mind. Abel Roshid. “Sir?” “Cameo, do as I’ve said.” My voice cut in, cold and final. His heavy sigh followed, then the sound of the door closing behind him. When I was alone, I picked the flick blade with serrated edges. Unsheathed it and ran my thumb along the ridges, feeling every bite of it. A dark smile curled on my face.

"Preliminaries start in summer in Japan. If we are unable to attend, you can stay a little longer to see the start of the Spring Tournament." His eyes widened, then he broke into a small smile. "Thank you." It's not that he was opposed to going back to Japan, nor didn't he want to go either. There was just something unsettling for him to go back without a proper memory of what happened. He was rather afraid of the responses he would get.

Ambrose chuckled from beside her, "Summon your flames, milady - maybe your sword will answer you then." He hinted, with a rueful grin. Sephora huffed a laugh, but did as instructed. Her mind summoned her flames, merely an extension of her body, and imagined them forging the sword to her hand. Just as her flames reached her palm holding the sword, the sword ignited. Glowing gold, it was a torch in her hand, as the flames seemed to come from within the sword as though... as though it was bonded to her Soulborn power.

I hissed, feeling the searing heat bite into my hand as the cursed substance oozed closer to the hilt. Wenally’s smirk faltered when I didn’t drop the sword. I tightened my grip, ignoring the pain. Jason’s blood was fighting the enchantment, and I could feel it—a quiet, steady resistance pushing back against the corruption. I used her moment of hesitation to my advantage, swinging my blade with all my strength. The edge of my sword caught her armor, slicing through the leather and drawing blood.

Rhychard jerked his attention toward where he thought the loud crack of sound originated from. His hand tensing on the grip of his sword, the voices of the other Warriors in his mind, urging him to action. He tried to get a bearing on where Renny brought them, but nothing seemed even remotely familiar or even how she described the place to him. "If this is the Summerlands, it's not really what I expected," he said. Turning to Renny, he asked, "This is the Summerlands, right?"

Her intense gaze, hardened by countless battles, was tempered by her unwavering loyalty to Somerland. To Elysia's left stood Gareth Swordbane, widely feared and respected as the Sword Demon. He was a tall, imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. Known for wielding a blade with unparalleled mastery, Gareth’s skill in swordsmanship was legendary, his reputation as a ruthless opponent striking fear into the hearts of all who dared challenge him. His sword, an ancient blade etched with runic symbols, was strapped across his back, and his eyes held a piercing focus that spoke of countless battles fought and won.

X voice grew coldly. Isreal began laughing hysterically, as he unsheathed a long sword. “It seems as if you do not understand your place. I have you surrounded, surrender and I will spare your life, as Lord Henderson will decide you fate. He will be the god to judge you.” The sword Israel held was definitely finely crafted. The Sword was hand forged as the Damascus pattern resembled a calm river. The hilt was made of bronze and fitted with gold. No matter what quality his sword was, it will still rubbish before X’s translucent blade.

Winter moved—sudden, liquid, faster than the eye could follow. One moment August was driving forward with a high thrust aimed at Winter’s throat. The next, Winter had slipped inside the guard, blade flashing upward in a perfect arc. The blunt tip stopped mere centimeters from August’s throat—close enough that August felt the faint stir of air from the motion. At the same instant August’s own sword was locked in place, point trembling just under Winter’s heart.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”