Wings War Novels & Stories

Leto:(comes in) commander you called for me Zeno:(goes over to her)yes I did, I have received a report that a million fleets of ships are coming to attack so I want to know if you are up to the task Leto:of course am ready, you seem to have forgotten that am a killer a born one at that and I have no heart or emotion Zeno: excellent now go prepare Leto:ok commander (as she leaves) All the armies of the combined military strength of Jupiter, Saturn and Mars clashed with the army of kataros, the armies of Jupiter, Saturn and Mars thought it was kataros leading his army they didn't know that it was being led by Zeno,the battle began on the three separate moons near Jupiter Brian:(lands on a moon

He wiped his mouth, shook off Luis’s grip, and stalked off down the corridor, cradling his side. Luis turned to Milo, nostrils flaring. “You. Office. Let’s go.” Milo wiped the blood from his mouth and didn’t argue. He followed Luis silently, fists still clenched, chest heaving. The fight was over. But the war they were walking into? Just heating up. Luis slammed the office door shut behind them. “The fuck is going on?” he barked, glaring at Milo. Milo wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ozzy was following Raven.”

They wanted the survivors to carry the wounds. An angel fell from the sky. His wings dissolved. He crashed into the earth, screaming. “My wings!” His hands clawed at the ground. “My wings!” Another angel rushed toward him. Then she stopped. Her eyes widened. Her own wings were beginning to fade. “No…” The feathers turned black. Then disappeared. She screamed. The sound was swallowed by another explosion. Across the battlefield, demons were losing their powers. Ancient warriors who had once been capable of destroying cities suddenly found themselves helpless.

I have never seen such beautiful wings in my entire life. His crimson-red wings are described as metallic with each feather sharp like a precision blade. Each feather/blade has the top part crimson with the hairs or fibres sticking out of the sides, while the end of the blade itself is black. I really envy him. Why does he have to have such beautiful wings? Why is mine not like his? I cried in my mind and again looked up at him. He was waiting for me to go up. So I spread my wings too and flew up to complete the rest of the fight.

Seven’s own gigantic wings were also unfurled to their full, awe-inspiring breadth as he battled with another creature. His sharp wings tore through its rotten flesh with the same ease as a hot knife through butter, splattering thick arcs of black ichor across the blood-stained floor. Yet even as he sliced through his opponent with ferocious efficiency, a sharp cut pierced his wing from joint to tip. Blood welled from the grievous wound, each beat of his mighty pinions sending a fresh spray of droplets through the air. He was bleeding profusely from the deep wound and new drops sprayed into the air every time he moved them.

I was greeted by my general, he bowed before me then was back in giving further instruction to my legion. It wasn't long until we were up in the air, and they were broken up in groups as planned. We were invading his kingdom from several directions, this was our first full-on war mode. I had never felt the need to invade and provoke a war to any kingdom in hell. Leading in front of our pack, my wings flapped forcefully leaving a strong gust of wind. The need to get him back was stronger, my veins were pumped with the adrenaline. My general was shouting his commands louder as the wind was drowning his voice.

Inside the boundary formation. One of the 24 pairs of wings in the tactical deployment shook violently as if it could not hold on any longer. The next moment, its golden light suddenly became brighter, and it was even brighter than the other 47 golden petal-like wings. When the golden light reached its peak, the violent shaking directly shook the wing out of the tactical deployment. A gap appeared in the tactical deployment of 24 pairs of wings. As this wing broke away from the tactical deployment, it suddenly dimmed.

The Winged race had been so glorious when it first emerged. But since the Devil's advent into the fold, the Wingeds had suffered nothing but a string of unfortunate events: he took their Reality Painting and the Suan Ni True Blood, their Legion was utterly decimated with only a paltry few of their number barely surviving, and now, he was once again soundly defeated with his Fan of Cosmos now seized by him, and he would never escape unscathed this time, by the looks of it.

The other curved backward in a brutal sweep, thicker than Apollo’s and ridged along its length, as though designed less for ceremony and more for impact. His wings were folded tight behind him, but even restrained, they carried weight. They were not the flexible, membranous stretch of Apollo’s; they were denser, layered in plates edged with serrated bone. Each ridge caught the firelight and fractured it, casting sharp shadows across the stone. In battle, those wings would not glide. They would cleave.

The war raged on. But around him… it began to feel distant. His gaze hardened, steady and absolute. “Because this…” A beat… The air itself seemed to tighten. “…is the last time this war breathes.” And then… He moved. Power didn’t just surge… it broke loose. His form shifted violently. Wings tore free into existence, vast and consuming, unfurling with a force that seemed to split the very air apart. Dark… immense… they stretched wide as if they had always belonged there, only now choosing to be seen.