NOVEL NEXT Chapter 56: Predator’s Fang
The air itself was a prison.
Lightning bled from the walls of the storm-cage, webbing the battlefield in jagged lines that burned the air and filled every breath with the taste of copper. Wind howled in endless circles, tugging at cloaks and hair, forcing every movement to feel like a battle against the storm itself. The arena was no place—it was a predator's maw, and Jemil and the swordmaster were trapped inside it.
The Herald crouched at the center, talons scraping molten sparks from the stone floor as it shifted its weight. Its body was humanoid, but only barely. Too long in the limbs, too sharp at the joints, too alien in the way lightning danced across its flesh like veins made of storm. Its molten eyes burned like twin suns, and its grin was a scythe of white fire.
At last, the predator whispered, voice rolling through the arena as if the storm itself had found words. Prey worth hunting.
Then it moved.
The Herald blurred into motion, so fast that it seemed to erase the space between them. One heartbeat it was across the arena, the next it was slashing down with claws that could cleave mountains.
Jemil met the strike, fire bursting along his blade as he swung upward with both hands. The impact was an explosion of sparks and thunder, the shockwave throwing him back several steps. His arms trembled from the force, but his blade held.
The Herald didn't pause. Its other claw scythed toward the swordmaster.
She moved with perfect, measured grace. Her katana cut upward in a smooth arc, intercepting the blow with a ringing clash that reverberated through the cage. Her feet dug into the stone, leaving furrows as the sheer force drove her back. Sparks skittered across her armor, and blood welled where lightning burned her skin.
But her eyes didn't flinch.
"Too slow," she hissed, twisting her katana to shove the claw aside.
Jemil surged forward before the Herald could recover, his blade roaring with fire and shadow. He struck in a diagonal sweep, his momentum carrying his whole body through the motion.
The Herald leaned back, the tip of Jemil's blade skimming its chest and slicing through the lightning that webbed across its form. It laughed, molten eyes narrowing.
Synchrony? it growled, circling them. Do you truly believe two blades make you hunters? You are nothing but meat learning to dance before slaughter.
It lunged again—this time faster, sharper.
The world became a blur of motion. Jemil parried one strike, the swordmaster another, their weapons moving in tandem. He could feel her rhythm through the bond they shared—not with the Mark, but with trust carved through battle. Every deflection she made opened a path for him. Every swing he committed to became the foundation of her counters.
For a moment, their blades were not two separate weapons, but one.
The Herald snarled, molten fire crackling across its grin. Then it split.
Three versions of the predator materialized around them—one to the front, one to the left, one behind. They weren't afterimages. They all moved.
The first came for Jemil's throat, claws flashing like lightning.
The second slammed into the swordmaster, their clash exploding in sparks as steel shrieked against claw.
The third lunged for Jemil's back.
Now, the Mark whispered in Jemil's chest, its voice a low, insidious hiss. Choose. Her life or yours. A predator does not hesitate.
For the briefest heartbeat, he saw it—the outcome the Mark demanded. He'd spin, protect himself, and leave her open. The predator would cut her down. Survival of the fittest. The Mark thrilled at the thought, its hunger gnawing at his bones.
But Jemil bared his teeth.
"No," he growled, voice raw against the storm.
Instead of choosing, he let the predator's instinct flow into him—but bent it. Owned it. His blade howled with shadow and flame, carving a twisted arc against the law of motion itself. The third Herald clone screamed as his strike pierced it, unraveling it into black smoke.
The swordmaster seized her moment. With a cry, she pivoted into Jemil's rhythm, her katana flashing in a spiral that forced her foe back. Their blades crossed, caught the second clone, and together they tore it apart in a burst of sparks.
Only the true Herald remained.
It reappeared at the center of the arena, molten eyes narrowing in predatory delight. Slowly, it began to clap. The sound echoed with thunder, each strike of its hands like a crack of the storm.
Better, it admitted, its grin splitting wider. But hesitation still lingers. You resist what you are. You play at being hunters, but you deny the truth that lives in your blood. Until you embrace it… you cannot kill me.
Jemil's chest burned. The Mark seared against his flesh, its whispers growing louder. Take it. Claim it. Become more. Let her fall and rise alone, or let her fall and claim her strength. The predator cannot share the kill.
He staggered, sweat beading on his brow. The whispers gnawed at him like fangs, demanding surrender.
Then a voice cut through—low, steady, familiar.
"Don't," the swordmaster said. She stood at his side, blood streaking her cheek, her katana steady despite the tremor in her hands. Her eyes burned with something fiercer than pain, fiercer than pride. "Don't listen. You're not fighting alone anymore."
He turned toward her, and for a moment, the storm seemed to fade. Her expression was hard, her jaw set, but there was a faint tremor at the corner of her lips, a softness in her gaze she hadn't let show before. Trust.
It wasn't just battle they were sharing. It was everything.
Jemil steadied his breath, forcing the whispers back, clutching his blade tighter. He raised it again, fire and shadow pulsing in unison. "We're not here to become predators," he said, voice steady now. "We're here to break you."
The Herald crouched low, claws dragging sparks from the floor, its grin sharpening to needle points.
Then let us see whose truth bites deeper.
The storm shrieked, lightning striking the barrier walls in violent arcs. The floor shuddered as the predator lunged forward, its entire body a blur of storm and claws.
Jemil and the swordmaster didn't move separately. They surged forward together, blades raised, their rhythm flawless.
Predator and prey collided.
The arena exploded with fire, steel, and shadow.
🔥 End of Expanded Chapter 56: Predator's Fang