NOVEL NEXT Chapter 45: Oath Against Silence
[HELL BEAST: GOREWURM]
A steel-scaled demon snake slithered from beneath the sacred gravel, crashing into the knees of the Crescent formation; the front two ranks scattered. Nysha appeared momentarily above the left wing commander's helmet—
[Shadow Needle]
—silencing their voices forever. Clarissa pressed a vial of blood to Selena's vein—an elixir of cooling—then leaped to slice the throat of a lone soldier.
Roger didn't slow. He took a breath—then sliced through the air.
[MOONBREAK: OATHCUTTER]
The blade didn't cut flesh—it cut the edge of the Domain. The air trembled; the edge of the Silent Crown wrinkled like a cut through water.
Noa was dry, precise. "Silent Crown integrity -6%. Impact type: Domain boundary cutter."
Rena glanced at me. "My Lord?"
"I went to greet him." I stepped out of the Inner Sanctum; the Silent Crown followed me like a soundless crown. I passed through the atrium where the Conclave was choked with silence; My footsteps chiseled silence into the marble.
At the threshold, we met eyes. Roger dismounted from his elk, sword hanging low—the style of a warrior, not a dancer.
"You silence the world," he said coldly. "Very well. Then listen to one man's promise."
"I do not reject prayer—only noise," I replied. "Is your oath loud? Or heavy?"
He bowed an inch—respect for the opponent about to be stabbed. "For Elrodan. For Sylvene. For Crowmere."
I smiled crookedly. "Elrodan chose to burn his name to strengthen a broken axe. You chose to die bearing his name. Two forms of foolishness—one taste."
Roger's eyes narrowed; not offended—precise. "Then be the touchstone of this foolishness."
He raised his sword. His moon aura didn't sing—it shone stubbornly. The knights behind him closed ranks, raising crescent spears.
"Rena," I said without turning. "Left and right perimeter—you command. Don't let the oath cut off our retreat."
"Acknowledged," he replied. Two Chaos swords curved, creating a blurry veil around our sides that Oathcutter easily sliced through.
Roger charged—not lightning, but a straight line that refused to bend the world.
I took a half-step forward, Noa Genesis darkening.
[DARK STINGER]
A straight blow met Oathcutter's slash right at the Domain's threshold.
KRAAANG!
A shockwave struck the cathedral courtyard; Selena's ice wall cracked, but thickened again—Absolute Zero drawing heat from the air. Two knights were blown away; Nana blocked three spears at once, Guard Break bending their shafts without damaging the blades.
Roger twisted his wrist—Oathcuter carved a thin gap in Silent Crown. I twisted his waist—Noa inserted a [Soul Clamp] in the gap line, locking the Domain's cut to prevent it from expanding.
"Interesting," Roger murmured. "Microlock Domain."
"Learn from heartache," I replied.
He grimaced, then pushed.
[CRESCENT DRIVE]
Power arced from my waist to the tip of the blade—a single moonbeam pressing against the silent crown. I shifted direction, flowing down the side of the sword—
[GRAVITY SHEAR]
—tilting the weight of the blow; the slash missed my pulse by half a finger.
Behind, the armies clashed:
Selena shattered the Crescent Phalanx with [Eternal Winter's Wrath]—her ice blade slid through the gaps in the shields, freezing the joints.
Nana sealed the narrow passageway of the gate: Cheondan's levers compressed, [Radiant Slash] slashed the spear pointing at Clarissa.
Malrik turned the spore rift into a gag—a pocket hole that devoured two knights, spitting out only their armor.
Nysha pierced the left wing commander just as he was about to blow the whistle—the oath never born.
Roger exchanged grips, his breathing calm. "I read your silence, Neil. You reject the song and force the weight. So I will weigh the weight too."
Noah cleared his throat "Analysis: Roger's oath isn't a prayer—it's a warrior's rite. Risk: cuts the Domain boundary at the touch line. Recommendation: guard the edges—punch the center."
"To the center, yes." I nodded slightly.
We entered simultaneously.
Me: [FOREFIST PUNCH] → [Soul Clamp] (target: sword bracelet)
Roger: [OATHCUTTER – Inner Line] (target: shaft of my fist)
Dark-silver sparks bloomed between us. The Silent Crown creaked—I pressed against the center of the altar, not the boundary. The oath was sharp at the edge, blunt at the core.
"Found it, Roger," I whispered. "Your sword cuts the edge; my crown presses against the center."
In the distance, the bells didn't chime. Nearby, the warrior's breath mingled with the scent of blood.
Roger pushed again—I shifted his weight—[Gravity Shear]—then countered with [Black Moon Drive] to his chest. He crossed his swords—a thin crack in the blade—and took a step back. Our eyes both narrowed.
"For Elrodan," he said—not angrily, surely.
"For truth," I replied—not pity, weight.
Behind us, Selena laughed coldly, Nana made a short prayer for whoever it was, Rena covered the sides with Chaos cloth, Malrik set a fourth trap, Nysha bound the shadows. Clarissa fed cooling to the wavering ones.
"Anchor rhythm," Noa reported: "My Lord 0.90; Rena 0.92; Selena 0.87 (safe); Nana 0.93. Elixir of time remaining: 6 minutes for Rena, 7 for Selena, 8 for Nana."
I lifted my chin at Roger. "Six minutes to teach your sword to spell silence."
He raised the blade—the moon lit up without song.
"Enough," he said.
Crowmere's air was as sharp as a knife. My weight and his sharpness ground against each other until the altar stone creaked.
Roger spun the blade—not beautifully, but stubbornly. I met it silently.
[DARK STINGER] → [GRAVITY SHEAR]
My fist pressed against the center; his slash grazed the edge. Dark-silver sparks exploded. We parted a foot… then went back in. No step was wasted.
"For Elrodan," he murmured.
"For silence," I replied.
He shifted the oath to bone.
[OATHCUTTER – Inner Line] chiseled the edge of my crown; the Silent Crown wrinkled.
I slid a [Soul Clamp] into the gap—locking the Domain piece to prevent it from splitting.
Noa's voice was even from the gauntlet. "Silent Crown Integrity -4%. Edge cracked, center secure. Recommendation: strike the frame, not the blade."
I obeyed:
[FOREFIST PUNCH] to the ribs → [KNEE DROP] to the front of the thigh.
The vibrations pierced through the armor. Roger's breath was shallow, but his sword remained in place. He retaliated, cutting the air as close as skin—the hairs on my horns flew.