Thunder Warriors Primarch Novels & Stories

Andrew said nothing and raised his sword to attack. Crimson Primordial Thunder descended from the sky, and threads of red electricity spread across the heavens. It looked as if blood had flooded the air, and a crimson sea was falling from above. In truth, Ragnar was not seriously injured. For a Werewolf Progenitor, any wound could regenerate instantly, even something as severe as losing limbs. Yet, Ragnar felt an instinctive terror toward the Primordial Lightning. This fear was unavoidable and deeply etched into his bloodline because the First Werewolf Progenitor had died from Arcturus' Primordial Thunder.

Curious looks are thrown at me but I don't care. Nothing of human nature applies to Battista Cattaneo, AKA Ash Thunder. If Grant is a human, then Ash is a god, a hurricane, his nature unpredictable, the totality of his being as beautiful as it is understated, perilous, and unrelenting. A brave man who never fears the fire, never fears death. I craved the wills of the tempest when I sought him out but I didn't know the extent of the storm I was getting myself into as at the time.

“That is fortunate. Although I have to ask you, how do you two fight these toads and slimes by yourself?” Darrion smiled. “Luckily, my friend here is a thunder elemer. He just shot his thunder to the toads, and the lightning just spread.” The soldier looked at Jai in a slight surprise, while Jai became slightly nervous under his gaze. The soldier looked at him up and down, and somehow noticed something familiar from him. “Thunder elemer? Wait, are you from the competition? The thunder guy?” Jai smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir.” “Ah… I see. No wonder then. Haha,” the soldier laughed lightly. “No wonder these frogs are stunned in seconds. I believe you now.”

When our palms met, the fierce, unshakeable resonance of our mate bond surged between us, steadying my racing pulse. We turned and walked out of the tent into the freezing morning. The strike force had already gathered in the central clearing. Sixty-eight warriors stood in silent formation, their breath rising in synchronized, pale plumes against the iron sky. Jarek’s Frostpeak warriors formed the northern vanguard, their white bear pelts making them look like ghosts against the dusting of fresh snow. Reka’s Shadowfang archers stood to the flank, quivers bristling with black-fletched broadhead arrows. Kael and Marcus stood at the center, leading twenty of our heaviest melee fighters.

she called him by his real name The warriors were still stunned by the lightning and when they saw that two of them talking, they began to whisper between them again. The Commander of Moriah's army, Panther, he was feeling anxious and frightened at the absence of his Lord. He couldn't decide that what he should command the fighters; whether order them to continue fighting or surrender to their enemies.

The kind that bends the air. The Warlock Primarch finally spoke, his voice as brittle as frost. “You are a threat to the balance, Phoenix. Your power resurrects an extinct line. You’ve produced offspring with a wolf Alpha. You’ve defied laws—mated across bloodlines, awakened ancient magic, and refused council.” I didn’t deny it. “Yes. And I’d do it all again. Because I didn’t choose this. It chose me. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m here to ask… what will you do about it?”