Chapter 26
First Blood
I wake to darkness and stale air.
My head throbs, each pulse echoing the Skathrith''s steady hum above. The chamber walls catch what little light exists, their surface shifting like wet flesh. Condensation beads and runs down the organic curves, creating patterns that seem to pulse with life.
The air feels thick, pressing against my skin.
Each breath requires effort, as if the very atmosphere resists being drawn into my lungs. The Blade''s song changes pitch—a warning.
Movement catches my eye.
A figure emerges from the shadows, its form unlike anything I have seen before. Obsidian skin stretches over a frame both familiar and wrong, marked by ritual scars that form intricate patterns. Four arms extend from its torso, each gripping a weapon carved from what appears to be bone. The edges gleam wickedly in the dim light.
Yellow eyes fix on me, glowing with predatory intelligence. The creature''s gaze holds neither mercy nor hesitation—only the cold calculation of a hunter sizing up its prey.
I draw in a deep breath, ignoring the way the thick air seems to coat my throat. Wave of Stillness. My arms sweep outward in wide arcs, mimicking the flow of water. My breath slows, grounding me as I try to adapt rather than resist. The Skathrith''s hum grows stronger, more insistent. Through our bond, I feel its eagerness—a reflection of the warrior''s hunger, but directed at something beyond mere violence.
The bone weapons scrape against each other as the creature adjusts its stance. The sound sends chills down my spine, but I force myself to stay steady. The Blade''s song pulses through me, urging me to move, to act, to prove myself worthy of its power.
My muscles tense as I prepare to face this new challenge. The warrior''s yellow eyes narrow, and I know the moment of observation has passed.
The warrior launches forward, its four arms becoming a blur of motion. I barely twist away as bone-white blades slice through the air where my head was a heartbeat ago. I exhale, keeping my arms moving in the flowing rhythm of Wave of Stillness, redirecting the creature’s strikes rather than meeting them head-on. Each motion carries me further into the Blade’s rhythm, aligning my breathing with its hum.
Another strike comes.
I stumble backward, the alien''s strength sending shockwaves through my arms as I deflect a blow. The impact rattles my teeth. My muscles burn from channeling too much of the Blade''s energy too quickly.
The warrior presses its advantage. Two weapons sweep low while another aims for my throat. I duck and weave, but each movement costs more effort than the last. Sweat stings my eyes. The air feels like molasses in my lungs.
The Skathrith''s song shifts, becoming sharper, more focused. I shift my stance into Root of Stone, planting my feet firmly. My movements slow, deliberate, each step grounding me in the rhythm of the fight. My breathing steadies, the Blade’s power settling into something less chaotic. The warrior’s blows crash against my defense, but I hold steady, forcing myself to become the unshakable mountain my mother taught me to emulate.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The alien snarls, adjusting its stance. I see an opening and strike. The Skathrith''s energy flows through me like liquid lightning, and my counterblow catches the alien''s upper left arm. Dark blood wells from the shallow cut.
But something is wrong. The blood does not fall.
Instead, it streams through the air like smoke, drawn into the invisible presence of the Blade. The Skathrith''s hum deepens to a hungry growl that reverberates through my bones.
I freeze, watching in horror as the last traces of blood vanish into nothing. The warrior''s yellow eyes narrow, and I realize I have left myself completely exposed.
The warrior''s attacks blur together, each strike forcing me further into desperation. The Skathrith pulses against my consciousness, its song becoming a battle cry that drowns out my own thoughts. My muscles burn as I channel more of its power, each movement leaving trails of shadow in the air.
CUT. SLICE!
The Blade''s energy seems to whisper.
KILL. EAT. MURDER!
I resist at first, trying to maintain control, but the alien''s relentless assault leaves no room for hesitation. A bone blade slices my shoulder. Pain flares, and something inside me snaps.
The Skathrith''s power floods through me like molten metal. I shift into Blade of the Wind, my strikes quick and precise. My arms slice through the air, each motion a blur of deadly clarity. My next strike carries crushing force, shattering one of the warrior''s weapons. The alien adjusts instantly, but I am already moving. The Blade guides my hands with deadly precision, each blow faster and more vicious than the last.
The warrior''s yellow eyes widen as I press forward.
No longer defending, I become the aggressor. The one that attacks. The one from which it flees.
The Skathrith''s influence makes my movements fluid, natural, as if I''ve trained with it for years. My strikes flow together in a deadly dance, forcing the alien to give ground.
An opening appears. I lunge forward, channeling the Blade''s energy into a devastating attack. The invisible edge cleaves deep into the warrior''s torso.
Dark blood sprays outward—but never reaches the ground.
The droplets hang suspended in the air, then stream toward the Skathrith like metal shavings drawn to a lodestone. The Blade''s hum transforms into a bone-shaking growl that reverberates through my chest. Power surges through our connection as it absorbs the alien''s essence, and I feel my control slipping further away.
I exhale, centering myself in Horizon’s Breath. My movements slow, my strikes more deliberate. The chaos fades as I flow into the form’s seamless rhythm, each motion merging breath and action into harmony. The alien’s remaining weapons flash as it charges forward, but I am ready.
The Skathrith’s power surges through me, turning my dodge into a fluid counter. My arms move with impossible speed and precision, deflecting two weapons while sliding past the others. The alien''s momentum carries it forward as I pivot, channeling the Blade''s energy into a single, devastating strike.
The blow catches the warrior at the base of its skull.
There is a moment of resistance, then nothing. The alien''s body crumples, weapons clattering against the chamber floor.
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, but the air catches in my throat at what happens next.
Dark blood seeps from the corpse, defying gravity as it streams upward in ribbons. The Skathrith''s presence intensifies, its invisible form drawing in the alien''s essence like a hungry mouth. Each droplet vanishes into nothing, consumed by the Blade''s insatiable appetite.
White-hot pain lances through my skull. My knees buckle. Burning glyphs etch themselves across my inner forehead—jagged edges glowing with unnatural precision:
Victorious.
Opponent: Xal''rith Abomination.
Conquered: Blood Claimed.
Energy Assimilated: +3 Units.
Each word of the torq’s message burns into my consciousness, searing my mind with its cold, mechanical clarity. The clinical terms mock the brutal reality of what just happened. Victorious. Conquered. Claimed. The words feel hollow, their precision stripping the act of all its weight.
The glyphs fade, but their impression lingers like a brand. I lower my trembling hands, staring at the warrior’s lifeless form. Its obsidian skin, once vibrant with ritual scars, now looks brittle and empty—a shell drained of purpose. Yellow eyes, now dull and lifeless, stare at nothing.
I want to turn away, to shut out the Blade’s insistent hum, but I cannot. The Skathrith’s satisfaction floods through our bond, mingling with the clarity and strength it has poured into my body. The sensation feels… good. Too good.
I clench my fists, willing the rush to fade.
This is not who I am.