Novel & Cerita The Way Of The Blade

Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side. To my shock, the passenger door opened and a girl came out. She was obviously young, probably fourteen or fifteen with red hair and a round hazel eyes which peered at me through the glass of the coffee shop. I couldn’t help but wonder who she was and why Blade had decided to bring her along. They both shared words before walking towards the coffee shop. “Emily!” Blade called as he walked inside with his companion right behind him. “I’m right here,” I said waving my hands in the air to draw his attention.

working. I tried to resist but he started showing an unnatural amount of strength. Holding one of my paws messed up by balance, after all, I still wasn't used to this body. When he had a full grip on it, he pushed me to my surprise. I toppled over and lay flat on my back. It was going to be a struggle to get back on all fours again. Blade eventually gets up on both of his feet. He takes off his torn shirt which still has the claw marks on it. His chest is lean and defined with plump biceps and hard abs. The scratches I gave him earlier rested above his abs and they seemed to be healing themselves. As I struggled to get up, Blade came towards me and it seemed that with every step, his scars s

The field quieted as he stepped forward, blade in hand. He dashed to the center of the field, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly grace. His movements were fluid yet commanding, his strikes calculated to perfection. Erika couldn’t tear her eyes away, captivated by the sheer power he exuded. The way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, the precision of his footwork—it was as if the blade was an extension of his body.

His voice was weak, but the weight of his words was undeniable. Slowly, his breathing became shallower, each breath weaker than the last. His trembling fingers, which had moments ago twitched with restless energy, now stilled. Then, as if all the fight had drained from him in an instant, his hand fell lifelessly onto the bed. Celeste barely had time to react before she saw the tear slip from the corner of his eye—silent, unacknowledged, yet heavy with meaning. He closed his eyes once more, not in peaceful rest, but in surrender, as if finally yielding to whatever unseen force had come for him.

Meanwhile, Damian, who had been listening to everything on the side, suddenly looked up and said, "You didn't even spare a baby who was barely three months old? You're such a bastard!" Blade's eyes turned cold. He pointed at Damian and said, "I'm going to stab your mouth before I kill you!" With that, a powerful force suddenly erupted from Blade's body. He bent his arm and immediately charged toward Damian like a military tank, planning to attack him with his elbow. Damian remained unfazed. A faint sneer appeared on his lips. Then, he thrust his palms forward and pushed hard. A gust of wind arose, the air rippling and whistling around his palms.

Only the sudden weight of steel sliding through flesh and bone, exactly where the mark burned brightest. The Luna mark broke as the blade pierced it. It was not a sound anyone could hear, but something you felt through the bond—like ice cracking beneath unbearable pressure. Kaelor’s pain tore through me so violently I almost missed my own. His shout spread across the battlefield, raw and broken, and every wolf collapsed where they stood. The light around my body shattered. The power drained from me, sinking into the earth, into the sky, into nothing. I looked down. The blade had gone straight through the mark.

Glacier pressed the attack mercilessly, aiming for the other eye. Roosevelt frowned. From thin air, the first Dark Blade—the original weapon he had ever forged—materialized in his hand. He hurled it with deadly precision. The blade tore through the air and sank deep into Glacier’s right wing. Blood sprayed in a wide arc. Raphael lost balance, cursing violently. “If that’s how you want it,” Raphael growled. He swung Frostbite wildly at Roosevelt. “Shadow Scale,” Roosevelt whispered. Raphael’s sword burst into flames and crumbled to ash in an instant. Shock flashed across his face.

The familiar weight settled into his grip like an old companion. For a moment he stood perfectly still, letting the quiet settle around him. Then he began. The blade moved through the air in slow, controlled arcs. Steel cut through the morning mist. Again. Again. Again. Each motion was deliberate. Measured. His breathing fell naturally into rhythm with the movement of the sword. Training had always been the only place where Adrian’s mind truly quieted. The past faded. The memories of the borderlands, the hunts, the bloodshed—they all blurred into the background.

I forced myself to say. "It doesn't matter, Reis. As a matter of fact, she's on my side now, and she's going to help me execute my plan. And there's nothing you can do about it." He smirked and leaned back in his chair before snapping his fingers. Some men approached with a tray. Resting on it was a blade emitting a glowing green light. "Let me introduce you to the Blade of Poison," Cillian began. "I'm sure you can sense the lethal energy radiating from this blade. We've spent years designing it to kill usurpers like yourself."