Chapter 26 – From the Ashes of Legacy
When Murad opened his eyes,
he felt his body sprawled across the cold stone floor.
His throat was parched.
His vision was blurry.
His arms trembled.
But his mind…
remained sharp.
"I've been poisoned,"
he thought.
He heard what sounded like approaching footsteps.
Sabbah was drawing near.
But just then, another voice echoed in Murad's mind—
not from his blood, but from his sword.
The Sword of Fatih…
had not gone silent.
It was merely waiting.
Murad gripped the hilt.
He closed his eyes.
"Give me your strength…
If you're truly my ancestral legacy, don't abandon me now."
At first, a faint tremor.
As if a spark had leapt through his chest.
Then a single drop.
Then a surge.
The power from the sword
slowly began to flow through his body.
A weak shimmer passed through his chest,
spreading to his shoulders.
And then…
the fading light turned into a rushing river.
The sword
flared like a frenzied star.
Blue light
coursed through Murad in waves.
His wounded shoulder
suddenly released a puff of black smoke.
The filth within,
the cursed darkness,
was expelled.
The wound…
sealed itself shut.
Murad opened his eyes.
He rose slowly.
Sabbah stood a few steps back,
eyes narrowed.
At first, he looked stunned.
Then he smiled.
He recognized that power.
"So you've finally learned how to wield your ancestors' legacy, wolf spawn…"
Sabbah said,
his tone both mocking and admiring.
"But it seems…
you still can't control it fully.
Draw too deeply from that power,
and I won't even have to lift a finger.
You'll burn yourself out."
Murad stepped forward.
His sword was aflame.
His eyes glowed blue,
his breath roared like fire.
"How can I know my limits…
if I don't push past them?"
And in that moment…
the sword flared once more.
But this time, not with rage—
with resolve.
The blue flame
engulfed Murad.
It was as if the sky had descended into his body.
The wind embraced him.
Not fire,
but the essence of sacred power.
The Sword of Fatih
was no longer just a weapon,
but the past flowing through Murad's veins.
The blue aura surrounding him
grew even brighter.
The power radiating from his blade
seemed to seep not only into his body,
but into the ground,
the air,
even the stones themselves.
Sabbah narrowed his eyes.
For the first time,
the cunning grin on his face
hinted at unease.
"So… you're capable of this much too."
He didn't wait a second longer.
The black dagger on his finger gleamed again,
and Sabbah lunged forward.
"Shaak!"
The first strike came.
Murad turned, countering with his sword.
Not steel meeting steel—
blue flame met shadow.
"CHAAK!"
The second blow came from Sabbah,
a swift strike aimed below the knee.
Murad leapt, spun in midair,
and slashed diagonally.
Sabbah ducked; his robe tore, but he remained unscathed.
They fought.
Like two shadows.
Like two flames.
Like two wills.
Sabbah came forward again.
Struck from the right—Murad blocked it.
Thrust from the left—Murad stepped back and countered.
A knee strike tried to stagger him,
but Murad planted his left foot
and slashed at Sabbah's wrist.
"Tss!"
Sabbah recoiled,
but immediately summoned shadows
and hurled four short daggers into the air.
"Whizz! Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!"
Murad spun,
deflecting them with his blade.
The last grazed his shoulder,
but he paid it no mind.
Three paces separated them.
They were both breathing heavily—
but it wasn't just breath,
it was a clash of will.
Sabbah stepped forward.
Murad moved at the same time.
And then…
they clashed again.
"CHAK! SHAAK! TING!"
Blade against shadow-dagger,
fist against shoulder,
knee against hilt.
Neither yielded.
Two poles.
Two destinies.
Striking and defending in perfect symmetry.
The battle was no longer unbalanced—
but the balance could break at any moment.
Time itself bent.
There was no thunder,
but stones cracked.
No stars cried out,
but the earth trembled.
The black crystal hanging from Sabbah's chest
began to emit
an even denser,
deeper shadow.
The foul substance
that had once only manifested as a dagger from his fingertip
now crept up his arm,
shoulder,
and hand.
Then…
the dagger
became a black sword.
A dark, smoky aura
swirled around the blade Sabbah now gripped.
His eyes burned with shadow's fire.
At the same time,
Murad gripped the Sword of Fatih tightly,
drawing power from its very core.
Blue flames
surged from his blade in waves.
The aura surrounding it
now danced like a blue dragon,
as Murad's eyes turned a brilliant white-blue.
Blue and black…
collided.
"CHAAK!"
The first impact—
a shockwave that shattered stone.
"SHAAAK!"
The second—
a blast of flame that tore through shadow.
Each strike
was charged with both power
and will.
Their bodies carried so much energy
that even the air around them grew dense.
The ground cracked.
The wind rippled.
After every blow,
they closed the gap,
and clashed again.
Sabbah kept drawing from the black crystal.
His chest seemed to cave in,
but his gaze was locked in a devilish grin.
Murad inhaled more and more blue light with each breath.
But now,
the light scorched his flesh,
and made his veins shudder.
Because…
both had their limits.
And those limits
were near.
One of them would overwhelm the other.
Or one…
would collapse,
burn,
and fall
beneath the weight of the power they had summoned.
This was no longer a battle of technique.
It was a war of will.