The Way Of The Sword Romane & Geschichten

The omega grabbed the knife, not thinking about anything, not even about Aaron or Aracelis. Irish pressed the knife against her wrist. A few drops of blood fell from her wrist. Before she could do anything, the knife was thrown out of her reach. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? " Aaron shouted as he turned the omega. Irish eyes were blank, staring at him almost lifelessly. " I have to die. " Irish said almost in a whisper

Her sword flashed in the sunlight as she cut through the rogue pack's ranks, her wolf form shifting effortlessly as she fought with all her strength. Just when it seemed as though all was lost, Althea heard a voice behind her. "Stay strong, Althea," Zemo, the Alpha crown prince of the Moon Kingdom, said as he rushed into battle beside her. He fought with a strength and determination that matched Althea's, and together they were an unstoppable force. Zemo and Althea fought side by side, taking down enemy after enemy. With each swing of their blades and each howl of triumph, their bond grew stronger. They moved as one, anticipating each other's moves and working together seamlessly.

The sword was teaching him a technique. The sword technique was named Hidden Soul Sword, and Adrian was utterly shocked. He hadn’t expected the Soul Devouring Sword to be so proactive, directly transferring the technique to him. This was no ordinary sword. Its power and consciousness were beyond anything he had imagined.

The weight of his sword felt like an extension of his arm, a part of him as vital as his own heartbeat. As the battle horns blared, signaling the start of the assault, Lucian surged forward. The clash of steel and the roar of warriors filled the air. Lucian’s movements were fluid, almost graceful, as he cut through the enemy ranks. His blade found its mark with lethal precision, each strike deliberate and deadly. He did not blink as he took life after life; the faces of the fallen blurred together in a haze of crimson.

Lazily as if all those worried faces were not directed to him, Nicklaus removed his sword too. But unlike Noah’s deadly sword, Nicklaus sword was just the normal sword. It looked weak compared to Noah’s and just one blow and it will break into pieces. The two sword were world apart and this busted ego and hope in Nephus soldiers.

Suddenly, he jumped into the air and yelled, "Boundless heaven and earth, universal Storm of Swords!" The weather immediately changed. The light from the Unsullied Sword grew multiple times brighter and produced countless sword illusions that danced around Xiao Chen. The tightly condensed sword lights bounced off the whiteness of the snow. The crowd below gasped in shock. The Storm of Swords was one of the most abstruse sword arts among the cultivation sects. A perfected spell could alarm even gods and ghosts in the world. It was capable of turning opponents into dust at once.

The blade gleamed with a brilliant silver light, its edge shimmering with a promise of sharpness. The blood sword! I exclaimed internally, astonished by the fact that I had successfully conjured the legendary weapon known to be wielded by a valiant warrior from Cairos—a neighboring nation to Springgan. Apollo had shared stories about it, expressing his dream to create such a weapon one day. Empowered by the gauntlet, I held the blood sword with ease. The blade's edge gleamed, a testament to its lethal potential. Just as the icy shield surrounding me shattered, the dominus seized the opportunity to consume me. Its jaws opened wide as it lunged towards me. Reacting swiftly, I positioned the sw

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

It smelled of damp stone, old hay, and solitude. Makil was already there, warming up with a series of fluid stretches that further betrayed his training. He wore similar clothes to yesterday, and two practice longswords were thrust into the ground at the center of the yard. Leigh arrived silently, a shadow detaching from the deeper shadows of the archway. She'd re-braided her hair tightly. She said nothing, simply walked to the center, pulled one sword from the earth, and tested its weight. "No rules," Makil said, pulling the other. "First to yield, or be disarmed."

He regained his cool composure, rose from the floor, and wiped the blood from his lip with a handkerchief. Despite his gentlemanly and calm demeanor, my heart trembled in fear. "You've underestimated me, Kent. I admit defeat this time, but I won't give up. I look forward to our next confrontation." With that, he opened the door. Kent quickly moved to stop him, but to his surprise, Jared managed to draw a wooden weapon from somewhere, aiming it at my temple. The dark hole of the tool was pointed at me, cold and merciless. My heart skipped a beat.