The Bladeweaver [Book 1 Complete]

They reached the entrance, where the scent of sweat, blood, and anticipation clung to the stone. The roar from within was already overwhelming. Varrick's arena was packed to the brim, a restless sea of spectators hungry for violence.

"Ready?" Liliana asked.

Kale didn't answer, his eyes scanned the crowd as he tried to calm the unease bubbling in his gut. This wasn't just about fighting anymore. He wasn't just a nameless contestant in some underground death match. He was carrying the blade of a goddess, hunted by a cult that wouldn't stop until they had it, and him.

"Let's get this over with," he said, stepping toward the pit.

Inside, the arena was illuminated by firelight. It gave the whole place a sinister glow. The crowd cheered louder as the announcer's voice boomed through the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for tonight's feature fight! The new fighter who left a trail of blood in his wake last time, versus a man who has been a terror in the pit for years!" The crowd roared as the announcer continued. "Our challenger… Kale!"

Kale stepped into the pit, his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, but his nerves were getting the better of him. He turned to the other gate, where his opponent would enter.

"And his opponent, the man whose magic has brought fear into the hearts of fighters across the Reach—Cyrus 'The Shadowhand'!"

Cyrus stepped out, his presence commanding the arena. A lean man cloaked in black robes that clung to his wiry frame, his eyes glowed with dark magic. His hands crackled with energy, casting shadows that flickered unnaturally.

The crowd's cheers were muffled as Kale's senses narrowed in on his opponent. The announcer's voice faded into the background as Kale readied himself.

The gong sounded.

Cyrus moved first, his hand shot forward, and a blast of energy rippled toward him. Kale dodged just in time, the force of the spell grazing his arm, searing the skin.

Kale activated Swiftform, his body surged with speed and the arena seemed to slow around him, his dagger glowing blue as he lunged forward, aiming for Cyrus's throat.

But Cyrus was prepared. With a flick of his wrist, he cast another spell—Slow. The spell slammed into him like a wall, jerking his speed to a crawl. Kale's eyes widened in horror as his body, still under the strain of Swiftform, was trapped in regular time. Every step felt labored, his muscles screaming in protest. He staggered, his muscles burning from the sudden effort, his speed nullified by the magical barrier Cyrus had cast over him.

Cyrus grinned, his eyes glittering with amusement as he watched Kale struggle. "Foolish boy," he sneered. "You rely on your speed, but what will you do without it?"

Cyrus unleashed a barrage of dark orbs, they crackled with dark energy, slamming into Kale's chest and legs. Pain exploded through his body as he was thrown off balance, his footing faltering as the Slow magic dragged him down like quicksand.

He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. His muscles ached from the strain of Swiftform, and now his limbs felt like lead. He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled beneath him.

Cyrus closed the distance. "Did you think you could beat me with that little parlor trick?"

Kale's heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him. His vision blurred as he saw Cyrus's hand raise again, ready to deliver the final blow.

No.

He couldn't die here. Not like this.

Something inside him snapped.

Kale's grip tightened around Aeloria's dagger, the power surging through him like fire in his veins. With a desperate roar, he pushed harder into Swiftform, forcing it beyond its limits, tearing through the magical slow with sheer will. His muscles screamed, his tendons strained to the brink, but he didn't care.

He shot forward, moving faster than he ever had, every step a blur. Another orb of magic hurtled toward him—he twisted past it, his instincts razor-sharp. But when the next came, he didn't even try to dodge. It struck him full on, burning deep into his skin.

Cyrus's eyes widened.

Kale didn't stop.

With a final burst of speed, Kale's dagger drove into Cyrus's eye. The man's body seized up, his spells dying on his fingertips as he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Kale stood over him for a moment, his body trembling, the pain overwhelming. Then, with a final gasp, he collapsed onto his back, his vision fading as exhaustion overtook him. His body was ruined, burned, torn, shredded from the inside.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Kale barely heard it. His breath came in ragged gasps as he lay there, unable to move.

The roar of celebration shifted—shouts, screams, chaos rippling through the stands. A dozen cloaked figures dropped into the pit, their eyes glowing with the unmistakable sickly green hue of Xeroth's followers. They had been watching, waiting for this moment, for the exact second Kale was too weak to fight back.

Kale couldn't defend himself. He could barely lift his head as they swarmed toward him. But Liliana was ready. Tendrils of blood shot from the corpse of Kale's opponent. The crimson whips lashed out, slicing through two cultists before they even reached Kale, but they were relentless. They pressed in from all sides, their dark magic rippling through the air. Liliana fought fiercely, her blood tendrils cutting down more of them, but there were too many. Her magic simply couldn't keep them all at bay.

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As the cultists closed in, Daryn appeared like a storm. He leaped into the pit, his sword flashing with deadly precision. He was a whirlwind, cutting through cultists with terrifying skill. Blood splattered across the dirt as his blade tore into their ranks, but even he was struggling. The attackers were stronger than any they had faced before, their magic surging with dark energy that clashed violently with Daryn's attacks.

In the chaos, one cultist broke through the defense, standing over Kale's prone form. His blade gleamed, ready to deliver the final blow. Kale, unable to move, his body screaming in agony, could only watch in helpless terror. He had nothing left to give.

A wave of force tore through the arena, lifting the man off his feet and hurling him like a sack of meat thrown from a butcher's block. The ground trembled beneath the sheer power of the spell, loose stone skidding across the pit as the air itself howled with raw, unrestrained energy. A blinding surge of light followed, searing away the dust and shadows.

Varrick stepped forward, his presence undeniable, his fury palpable. The crowd gasped as the arena seemed to hold its breath, every soul frozen in the wake of his power.

"This is my arena!" His voice roared through the space, shaking the walls. His hands burned with a silver radiance, arcane currents spiraling around him like a storm barely held in check. With a single, deliberate motion, he unleashed devastation.

A cascade of pure destruction erupted outward, swallowing the remaining cultists in an instant. The magic seared through them, bodies disintegrating into nothing, their final screams lost beneath the deafening crack of power.

"No one disrupts my arena," he growled.

Kale, barely conscious, felt his vision swim as the adrenaline faded. His body was spent, every nerve screaming in pain. He couldn't move. Could barely breathe.

Liliana hovered close, her usual sharpness absent. Her red eyes, glowing softly, reflected a quiet concern. She had no sarcastic remark, no quip to cover the seriousness of the situation. She knew Kale was in worse shape than either of them had realized.

Varrick, his fury tempered but not gone, turned to Daryn. "Get him out of here. Now."

Daryn sheathed his blade, nodding, and swiftly moved to scoop Kale up, his large arms cradling the broken fighter. The crowd watched in awe as the fallen warrior was carried away, whispers spreading like wildfire about the battle they had just witnessed.

Liliana floated alongside Kale, her eyes never leaving him. There was no victory in this moment, only the stark realization that they were in deep trouble.

***

Kale groaned as he slowly came to consciousness, every inch of his body radiating pain. His head pounded, and his limbs were heavy. He struggled to open his eyes, blinking against the soft glow of candlelight that flickered from the corner of the room. He was bandaged tightly, his arms and chest wrapped in thick gauze. The air smelled faintly of herbs, and though the pain still throbbed, it wasn't as sharp as it had been before.

He tried to move, but even the slightest shift sent waves of agony rippling through him. "Easy," came a familiar voice, low and laced with the usual edge of sarcasm. "You took a pretty good beating."

Kale turned his head to see Liliana floating beside him. Her expression was... softer than usual, though she hid it behind her normal mask. He managed a weak smile, but even that hurt.

"Varrick found someone to patch you up," Liliana said. "But it turns out, when you nearly rip all your muscles apart and fry your skin, even magic has its limits. You'll live, but it's going to take time."

Kale let out a shaky breath, sinking back into the pillows. "Guess I'm not invincible after all."

Liliana scoffed, but there was a hint of something else, something warmer, beneath her sharp tone. "You're still an idiot, but..." she hesitated, the next words coming out quieter, almost reluctant, "I'm starting to see you're more than just that. You didn't back down. You pushed through... almost impressed me even."

Kale blinked, taken aback by the uncharacteristic admission. "A compliment? From you? Oh god, this is it. I'm not gonna make it, am I?"

Liliana rolled her eyes. "If only I were that lucky." After a brief pause, she continued. "You did well."

Kale smiled faintly, but his thoughts had already wandered. Back to the arena. Back to the moment everything had nearly ended. It was all starting to feel like too much. He had survived by sheer luck and a desperate burst of strength, but was this really what he was meant to be? A bladeweaver? His wounds would heal. The question of what he was supposed to be—that would stay with him.

"I don't know if I can keep this up," Kale whispered.

Liliana hovered closer. "You don't have much of a choice, do you?"

Kale sighed. "No... I guess not."

***

The door to the room creaked open, and Varrick strode in, his face a mix of frustration and barely controlled anger. His sharp, well-dressed figure seemed out of place in the healer's dim quarters. He glanced down at Kale, his expression softening slightly before hardening again as he spoke.

"You're alive. Good. Because we need to talk," Varrick said. "I don't know what the hells just happened, but those goons, they attacked my arena. Very rude."

Kale struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his body. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" Varrick repeated. "I think it's pretty straightforward. You either pissed them off or you've got something they want."

"We didn't expect them to follow us this closely," Liliana said.

Varrick's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

They laid it all out—everything about the dagger, the cultists, the fight, and the mess they had stumbled into. Varrick paced as he listened, his expression unreadable.

"You're holding Aeloria's dagger?" He stopped, studying Kale with renewed interest. "I knew I'd seen it before." He shook his head, muttering under his breath. "If I had known... I wouldn't have thrown you into that pit."

Kale blinked. "You wouldn't?"

Varrick halted mid-step, then flashed his signature grin. "I'm not stupid, kid. Self-interested? Absolutely. But not stupid." His gaze darkened. "Xeroth's followers insulted me. I'm not about to let that slide. And you?" He gestured toward Kale. "You're a valuable asset now... especially if they want you dead."

Kale exchanged a glance with Liliana, unsure of where this was going.

"The way I see it," Varrick continued, "helping you might also get me some favor from Aeloria herself." His smile turned calculating. "And who wouldn't want a goddess to owe them?"

Liliana's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. Varrick was dangerous, but his logic wasn't entirely wrong.

Varrick ran a hand through his hair. "It was a bad idea to have you fight in the arena. If I had known what was going on, I'd never have suggested it. But now that I know, we need to rethink this. Xeroth's followers are relentless, and they'll keep coming for you until they get what they want."

"So... what do we do now?" Kale said.

"For now, you're under my protection. I'll need some time to figure out how to handle this situation, but in the meantime, no more arena fights. You rest. You heal." He looked between Kale and Liliana. "And you'd better be ready."

Kale nodded weakly, exhaustion still gripping him. But in the back of his mind, the sense of danger and responsibility continued to gnaw at him. He had come close to dying before, but never as close as today, and he wasn't sure he could keep up with what was coming next.

As Varrick left the room, Liliana floated closer to Kale. "We'll figure this out. You're not alone in this."

Kale managed a small nod.