True Berserker Novels & Stories

he hissed at Zephyr, face full of hateful resentment. The fat on Sylvester’s body started to shift and change, as if a cattle-prod shocked every fiber of his being. “Berserker Rage... I didn’t expect you to have this technique!” Spout said warily when he saw Sylvester’s body change. Berserker’s Rage was a violent technique. The user would conserve and maintain large amounts of energy in their body. Once they triggered the Rage, all that energy would explode out in a powerful, rage-filled blast. This technique was difficult to train, and even harder to master, not many will choose to learn it.

Dimitri muttered as he yawned, while some of the werewolves glared at him, chemical junkies, is a forbidden word for the berserker in the werewolf kind. Gale took a sigh, although he hated it when Dimitri was mocking the berserker, he knew that it was very much the truth about the berserker. A mutant that comes from an unnatural selection by drugs, makes them perfect soldiers but also curses the user of the drug to be dependent on the substance.

They probably expect me to order Horgus’s execution. I look over at the trembling Captain. “Get up, Horgus,” I command. My voice is thick with blood. He stands, looking like a man about to march to the gallows. “That,” I say, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, smearing the crimson across my skin, “Was an acceptable strike. You committed. You followed through.” I look around the circle of horrified faces. “That is the force required to kill a Redmaw berserker,” I tell them. “Anything less is a tickle. If you hit like that, you might survive a battle with them if it comes to that.”

Instead, the force of the impact rebounded, sending the massive gray wolf flying backward off the cliff edge, his screams echoing down into the rocky abyss. ​"Hold the line, Jaxon!" Lysander shouted, his dark blade a blur of motion as he and Kaelor engaged the remaining mercenaries on the narrow trail. ​Kaelor’s crimson fire tore through the ranks of the attackers while Lysander’s black frost immobilized their limbs... their combined fighting style a devastating, beautiful display of absolute synchronization. ​But one of the berserker mercenaries, his eyes completely blind with rage bypassed the fight by scaling the vertical ice wall. He dropped down directly behind Seraphina, his long, jagg

I braced for what would follow—the mocking, the cornering, the way things always spiraled with men like that. But Blake’s head turned, slow, deliberate. His eyes locked on them, cold and sharp. The laughter cut off like someone had sliced the sound away. The bartender slid a bottle of beer to Blake, a glass of water to me. My hands trembled as I picked it up, holding on too tight. Blake leaned against the bar, casual in posture but not in presence. He was alert, always scanning, always aware. Watching him made me wonder if this was who he really was—a man who belonged in chaos but stayed rooted inside it.

Unknown to the general populace, his junior sister was an array master, possibly one of the best within the entire Ancient Xia continent. While he, the One-Eyed Berserker didn’t only specialize in the saber and martial skills… but in his ability to raise the dead. How many spiritual beasts had been killed ever since the trap was initiated? How many cultivators had been slayed since the attack started? Could these humans steel themselves…and kill their own disciples, their friends, family and kin? Disperse? These foolish humans decided to disperse because they thought there’s only two enemies, didn’t they? “Puhahahaha!”

Adam quickly put on a pair of shorts, which seemed to be just laying around, and went to stand beside Drago. “We have the ability to cloak our appearances,” he explained, “And when father wanted someone to guard you, we decided I was the best one for the job, because I am not a doctor. Dad and Marcu seemed to think you would feel more comfortable around a pot-bellied surfer, so that is how I appeared before you,” He smiled, as if his explanation was completely ordinary. “W,wait,you guys are all brothers??” Madchen gestured to the other men, including Drago.

About twenty meters away I spot them, or more to the point I spot him. Clayton Blackridge Alpha of the Lobo Sombra pack in his huge gun metal grey wolf. Standing to his right is a brown and grey wolf slightly smaller in height and not as muscular, possibly his Beta. My wolf starts stalking towards them and even though I am protesting she wants him. As I get closer he shifts back then the other wolf turns I realise he is giving us some privacy.

If someone in the Spirit Manifestation Realm could manifest their 'Spirit', then some Level 5 Demonic Beasts could manifest their Berserk. This Black Demonic Bull in front of him had yet to manifest his Berserk which was a red aura, but it was still a Tier 5 Demonic Beast's Berserk which could not be underestimated. Plus, a Tier 5 Demonic Beast would have a bit of awareness when using Berserk. That little bit of awareness would make it extremely powerful. “Don't let your guard down just because he entered the Berserk State. He has little awareness and it can make us lose our lives if we let our guard down for a second.” Xiao Long said seriously.

< FERAL FURY PACK > The garden of the Feral Fury Pack was alive with laughter and chatter, a rare moment of warmth amidst the usually tense atmosphere. It was a rare sight to see everyone gathered together like this—Mikhail, Jessica, Genevieve, Spike, Luciano, Gift, Damon, and Lucifer, all sharing in the lightness of the moment. The day was perfect; the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the flowers, and for once, it felt like a true family reunion, despite the many wounds they all carried.