NOVEL NEXT Chapter 57: The Predator’s Maw
The cage of storms began to change.
Lightning that had once lashed harmlessly against the barrier now folded inward, striking the ground like fangs closing in on prey. The very air thickened, each breath like inhaling molten glass. Cracks split across the obsidian floor of the arena, glowing with rivers of white-hot light. The storm wasn't just the Herald's weapon anymore—it was part of him. His hunting ground. His devouring maw.
The Herald crouched in the center, claws digging grooves in the floor, molten eyes drinking them in with endless hunger. His grin stretched unnaturally wide, voice booming across the arena as the storm bent to his will.
Prey runs. Prey bleeds. Prey falls, he whispered. But you… you dare bare your fangs. Then come. Let us see if you survive the maw.
The storm collapsed inward.
Walls of lightning slammed down in a tightening circle, reducing the battlefield to a shrinking kill zone. The arena was no longer vast—it was suffocating, every step forced closer to the predator at the center. There would be no running, no retreat. Only the kill.
Jemil's heart hammered in his chest, sweat slick on his grip as his blade thrummed with shadow and fire. The Mark seared against his skin, whispering with greater urgency, its hunger harmonizing with the Herald's storm.
This is the truth, it hissed. No prey escapes the predator's maw. Choose. Claim the kill for yourself, or be devoured alongside her.
The swordmaster moved closer to him, her katana raised in both hands. Despite the blood streaking her armor and the burns glowing along her skin, her stance was unbroken. Her voice cut through the roar of thunder, calm and firm:
"Don't listen. Stay with me. Stay in rhythm."
Jemil nodded, forcing his breathing steady. "Together."
The Herald lunged.
He was no longer fast—he was instant. His claws blurred like lightning strikes, his movements shattering stone beneath him as he drove into them with animal precision.
Jemil swung to intercept the first claw, his blade shrieking with fire. The swordmaster was already moving, parrying the second. Sparks and blood flew in equal measure, the impact nearly tearing the katana from her grip. She grimaced, but her counterstroke was flawless, her blade sliding along the Herald's arm to carve a line of blood across its chest.
The Herald laughed, molten blood hissing as it hit the floor. Better! But still prey.
It split again. Not three illusions this time—but five. All moving, all real enough to kill. The clones circled, each one crackling with storm energy, each grin identical and endless.
They struck at once.
The first came for Jemil's ribs. The second, his throat. The third and fourth pressed the swordmaster, claws hammering down in a relentless storm. The fifth lunged for both of them together, an executioner's blow.
The Mark screamed in Jemil's veins: Abandon her. Claim your kill. One predator must devour all.
His body burned with the urge to obey. To step aside, let her take the hit, and survive. The Mark promised him strength, promised him ascension, if he chose himself alone.
But then he caught her eyes.
Even amid the blur of motion, even with lightning screaming around them, he saw her gaze steady, unwavering. She wasn't asking for rescue. She wasn't demanding trust. She was giving it.
That broke the Mark's hold.
Jemil snarled, shoving the whisper back into the pit of his chest. "We fight together."
He pivoted, blade arcing in a brutal slash. Fire and shadow erupted in a storm, catching the first clone in its chest and ripping it apart. The swordmaster matched his rhythm, her katana a silver flash that danced through the second clone's throat, dispersing it in sparks.
But the fifth clone's strike still fell—an overhead blow aimed to split them both.
Jemil moved without thought. His blade locked against the claws, fire roaring in defiance, his legs buckling under the sheer force. "Go!" he roared through clenched teeth.
For the first time, hesitation flickered in her eyes. She could retreat. She could let him take the blow. But instead, she surged forward into his guard, her katana flashing upward. Together, they shoved the claw aside, sparks exploding as the fifth clone howled and unraveled.
The Herald's true body reappeared directly behind them, claws raised.
"DOWN!" Jemil shouted.
Both dropped to their knees as claws ripped overhead, slicing the storm itself apart. Jemil twisted, his blade screaming upward in a blazing arc. The swordmaster pivoted with him, her katana spiraling around his strike like a second flame.
Together, their blades carved across the Herald's chest, tearing through stormlight and molten flesh.
The predator staggered back, a guttural snarl tearing from its throat. Lightning bled from its wounds, arcs of white-hot power cracking across the arena. Its molten grin faltered for the first time.
Jemil's chest heaved. The Mark was silent. For one terrifying moment, it had nothing to say.
The swordmaster planted her katana into the ground, steadying herself as her legs trembled. She met his eyes, her voice rough but certain:
"Don't let go of this rhythm. Not now. Not ever."
Her words cut deeper than any strike. Jemil felt heat coil in his chest—not the Mark's hunger, but something far more dangerous. Trust. Connection. A bond not forged by the system, but by their choice.
The Herald raised its head, molten blood dripping down its grin.
Prey… no longer, it whispered. Its body began to split apart, storm pouring from its core as its form stretched and twisted. Lightning arcs coiled into wings, claws elongating into scythes. Its entire shape distorted until it loomed over them like the storm given flesh.
Predator. Maw. Devour.
The arena cracked. The walls of lightning surged higher, the circle closing tighter, the ground itself collapsing into glowing fissures. There was no longer a battlefield. They were inside the predator's throat, and it was closing around them.
Jemil and the swordmaster tightened their grips.
There was no running. No choosing.
Only the kill.
"Together," Jemil said again.
The swordmaster's lips curled—not into a smile, but into a fierce, unshakable smirk. "Don't fall behind."
They surged forward into the maw.
The storm swallowed them whole.
🔥 End of Chapter 57: The Predator's Maw