The grand hall of Varcel's palace glittered like a field of knives. Chandeliers dripped crystal, casting fractured light across polished floors. Courtiers in masks and flowing robes moved like shadows, their whispers weaving through the air like silk-coated daggers.
Ren, Aria, and Kael entered cautiously, each step measured. The Black Celestial throbbed faintly beneath Ren's skin, sensing the danger threaded through the smiles and laughter around him.
"This place reeks of lies," Aria muttered, her violet eyes scanning the crowd.
Kael smirked. "Good. I prefer it that way."
Ren remained silent, fingers brushing the hilt of his blade beneath his cloak. Every whisper, every glance, felt like a strike aimed at him.
Lord Varcel presided at the high table, his crimson robes gleaming in the candlelight. He raised a chalice, voice smooth as ice. "Welcome, honored guests. Tonight, we celebrate… loyalty."
The irony was not lost on Ren.
As the feast progressed, Ren noticed subtle movements servants slipping daggers beneath trays, wine that shimmered unnaturally, eyes that lingered too long on Kael's sword, Aria's staff, and Ren's scarred arm.
"Something's off," Ren murmured.
Aria's chains of fire flared faintly beneath her sleeve. "I feel it too."
Kael leaned close. "Then let's not sit here waiting for the first knife."
The first strike came with a clatter of silver. A masked assassin plunged a dagger toward Ren across the table. He rolled aside, black fire flaring as the blade passed, searing the assassin's arm.
Kael swung his sword, flames igniting, cutting through the assassin's flank. "Not fast enough!"
Aria spun her staff, chains of fire snapping like whips. Two more assassins, disguised as waiters, were bound and burned before they could react.
Varcel's smile never wavered. "Ah… so lively! A shame I must interrupt such joy."
From the shadows, more assassins poured in, some wielding Celestials corrupted by false bonds. Silent chains, shadow blades, venomous spikes every attack tested the trio's coordination and trust.
Ren's Black Celestial pulsed violently, feeding on the betrayal and chaos. Every strike aimed at him, every secret dagger, strengthened him his speed increased, his reflexes sharpened beyond natural limits.
One assassin lunged at Aria. Ren reacted instinctively, black fire bursting from his blade, slicing through the attacker before she could be harmed. Another aimed for Kael a swirl of illusions made the strike invisible, but Ren's instincts caught it. He grabbed Kael's arm and yanked him aside, the blade grazing only the edge of his cloak.
Kael grinned despite the danger. "Not bad, kid. You're getting stronger."
Aria's chains wrapped around an entire group of attackers, flames burning bright. "Ren… you're glowing!" she shouted.
Ren's eyes were black fire, his blade a shadowed streak. "Betrayal makes me stronger," he growled.
Amid the chaos, Varcel moved through the hall with unnatural grace, observing, unscathed. He raised his hand subtly and several Celestial traps ignited along the floors. Magical runes flared, and hidden poison tipped blades launched from walls and chairs.
Ren felt the pulse of betrayal in every attack the hall itself seemed alive with treachery. His Black Celestial responded, burning hotter, feeding on every act of deceit.
With a roar, he surged forward. Black flames licked along his blade as he carved a path through the hall, deflecting daggers, igniting false Celestials, and protecting Aria and Kael.
Kael fought back-to-back with him, flames and steel dancing in perfect coordination. Aria channeled her power into massive chains of fire, binding the last wave of assassins.
The grand hall, once glittering, was now a battlefield of scorched marble and shadowed corpses. The courtiers fled, screaming, their loyalty long dead.
Varcel remained seated, watching silently. Finally, he spoke, voice calm. "Impressive. The Black Celestial does indeed make a fine weapon. But remember… even weapons are broken when their wielder falters."
Ren's chest heaved. His Black Celestial burned faintly, cooling. One more scar had etched itself across his arm. He glanced at Aria and Kael.
"We survived," Aria said, her voice trembling but steady.
Kael sheathed his sword with a grunt. "Barely. And I think Varcel just enjoys watching us bleed."
Ren didn't answer. Outside, the city whispered still. Veylon's games had only begun and the Tournament of Oaths loomed ahead.