The battlefield stretched on forever.
A plain of cracked black stone beneath a sky that had no sun, no stars, no end. The air carried no wind, only a dry heat that clung to my lungs like smoke.
I stood alone, blades in hand, breathing too loud in the silence.
That silence broke with a shriek.
It wasn't human. Too raw, too sharp, like claws dragging across glass.
The first shadow stumbled out from the haze. A warped shape, shoulders hunched, arms too long, claws tapering into jagged tips. Its body rippled like smoke but held together just enough to look solid. Hollow sockets burned faintly white where eyes should have been.
It lunged.
Instinct took over. My swords moved, one cutting high, the other sweeping low. The creature split down the middle, smoke hissing as it came apart.
But the smoke didn't vanish.
It swirled, swelled… and re-formed into the same shape, screeching louder.
"What…?" My grip tightened.
Another shadow peeled itself from the ground behind me. Then two more. Then five.
I backed up, blades raised. "You've got to be kidding me."
They charged.
The first swipe grazed my arm. A second nearly split my shoulder. I slashed back, forcing space, my blades cutting through one, two, three bodies. They collapsed into smoke only to rise again, whole.
No matter how fast I cut them down, they returned.
It was endless.
I gritted my teeth and moved faster. Rushing Fang. Strike, step, slash. Momentum increased. Bodies fell, blades sang. For a heartbeat, it almost felt like training, movement chaining, instincts sharp, muscle memory carrying me forward.
But unlike wooden dummies, these things fought back.
A claw raked across my ribs, hot blood soaking my shirt. I staggered, spun, cleaved the thing in two, and another barreled into me from the side.
Flying for a few meters, I hit the ground hard, air ripping from my chest. The swarm closed in, jagged hands reaching.
"No!"
I rolled, blades flashing upward, splitting the closest apart. My knees screamed as I forced myself upright, blades circling in Coiling Fang footwork. Cuts stung along my arms. My chest burned with every breath.
Still, they came.
Ten. Twenty. A hundred shapes. The battlefield crawled with them, every one shrieking, every one reaching.
And every single one of them refused to stay down.
This isn't a fight… It's a flood.
My muscles throbbed. My vision blurred. Sweat stung my eyes.
"Dammit… dammit!" I swung harder, faster, screaming with each strike. Smoke split, bodies crumpled, and rose again. Always rose again.
The sound of them was unbearable, a chorus of screams clawing at my skull.
One caught my ankle. I slammed my blade down through its head, tearing free, but two more ripped across my back. Pain lit up my spine. My legs almost gave out.
I couldn't win, not like this. Although I had the watchful circle active, I couldn't do anything if I couldn't react.
And then light.
It started small. A faint shimmer beneath my boots, pulsing with my heartbeat. A thin ring etched itself into the black stone, no wider than the space my oath covered.
The moment it appeared, the world shifted.
The shrieking slowed. Claws dragged as if they were moving through mud. The shadows that stepped inside moved like they were caught in water, every strike slowed, every lunge delayed.
Time bent. Space distorted. Pillars of dark stone emerged from the ground, their surfaces lined with glowing purple veins. Shattered memory mirrors covered the ground, and glowing purple lightning-like crystals hovered in the air, like a miniature version of my soulforge.
I blinked through the sweat. My chest still heaved, but the attacks… I could see them before they landed. Every twitch of a claw telegraphed like a warning bell.
My lips curled into a sharp grin. "Oh… now we're talking."
I lunged forward. My blades blurred. One, two, three shadows fell before they even finished raising their arms, and this time they didn't rise.
The dome pulsed brighter. My movements felt smoother, faster, as though the battlefield itself was pushing me forward.
Slash. Step. Spin. Strike.
The shadows shrieked louder, dozens rushing me at once. But within the circle, they couldn't overwhelm me. They were too slow.
This was my ground. My circle. My Oath.
I roared and carved through them. My blades flowed, no thought, no hesitation, every cut faster than the last. Rushing Fang bled into Coiling Fang, into Falling Fang, my entire style in one seamless rhythm.
For the first time, I wasn't fighting to survive. I was fighting to dominate.
And it worked. The tide broke. Dozens fell. The ground ran slick with shadow-stuff, dissolving under my boots.
But the glow beneath me dimmed.
The drain hit like a hammer.
Mana poured out of me, ripped away with every second the circle stayed alive. My veins burned, molten fire threading through them. My chest seized, lungs screaming for air.
My vision doubled. My legs shook.
Not yet.
I bit down, hard enough to taste blood, and forced myself to keep moving. The dome pulsed, weaker but still held.
The shadows pressed harder, sensing weakness. Fifty swarmed me, claws hammering from every side.
I moved anyway.
Slash. Step. Parry. Cut. Every motion cost me more than the last. My arms felt like lead, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
One slipped past, claws raking across my chest. Another bashed into my ribs. Pain exploded, but I cut them down with a scream.
Still, they were relentless.
The circle flickered. I dropped to one knee, gasping, sweat dripping from my jaw.
The shadows were gone. They couldn't re-emerge inside the dome, not without my consent.
Silence returned. The battlefield was empty.
Only the cracked stone, the cold air, and the faint, fading glow beneath me remained.
I planted both swords in the ground, using them to hold myself up. My chest heaved. Blood dripped from half a dozen cuts.
But I was alive.
And the circle… the Oath… was real.
---
Beyond the battlefield, the presence stirred again.
It had seen him falter. It had seen him bleed. And still he stood.
'The boy who begged to go home', the voice mused, ancient and vast. 'The one I turned away because his oath was not yet his own'.
Its gaze fell upon the dim ring beneath Zane's knees.
'And yet, he returns. He cuts until his arms give way. He drowns and still claws for the surface. Fragile… but solid at the same time'.
A pause. Almost fond.
Do not fear the weight, little one. The forge shapes you still. Survive it… and the world will tremble when you stand'.
The battlefield faded into silence.