The token burned in Alistair’s hand,cold one second, searing the next.
[Shade of the Forgotten Duelist — Summoned]
Duration: 60 seconds.
Durability: 2/3 → 1/3.
A pulse of cold light flared from the token, twisting into shadow.
A figure took form, lean and tall, clad in faded Arena garb, armor scarred and worn by time.
No face, just a featureless mask where features should have been. Twin blades gleamed in its hands, one black as void, one silver as moonlight.
The air around it shivered with cold precision.
It stood silent.
Waiting.
Above, the Herald all but exploded with glee.
"WHAT’S THIS? WHAT’S THIS?!"
"A TOKEN SPENT! A SHADE CALLED FROM MEMORY, OH, YOU CHEEKY LITTLE FANG!"
"TWO BLADES NOW STRIKE AGAINST THE SENTINEL! OHHH, THE PANTHEON LOVES A WAGERED PIECE!"
Around them, the frozen gods leaned in.
Faces flickered, some curious, some amused, some grim.
Veydran remained stone-still, chains humming softly.
The Bloodmistress… smiled.
Alistair rolled his shoulders, blades ready.
"Sixty seconds. Make them count."
The Sentinel moved, fast.
Chains snapped out, targeting both Alistair and the Shade at once.
The Shade flowed sideways, effortless, blades weaving arcs through the air.
It struck first, one blade carving across the Sentinel’s thigh, the other driving toward its ribs.
A shower of sparks.
[Bleed triggered]
Sentinel HP: 48%.
Alistair followed in, blades flaring with [Firebite], body moving in perfect sync with the Shade’s flow.
"Let’s keep you busy."
No need to say it aloud. The Shade already knew.
Chains lashed toward Alistair, two from the left.
He ducked low.
[Stonecoil Grasp Activated]
The Sentinel’s right foot rooted, momentary pause.
Alistair surged in [Blade Tempo] ready.
Redcrystal Sword sliced clean across the Sentinel’s left arm joint. Dagger of Illumination stabbed up beneath the armplate, light flashing.
Bleeding Precision triggered.
Warmth refreshed to 5 stacks.
Sentinel HP: 43%.
Above, the Herald cackled:
"THE DAGGER AND THE SHADE! A DUET OF DEATH!"
"BUT THE SENTINEL STILL STANDS! THE BASTION DOES NOT BREAK EASILY!"
"AND TIME, OH, SWEET TIME, RUNS EVER ON!"
Blood Tribute Progress: 1,719 / 5,000.
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:10:18.
"Half done. Move faster."
The Sentinel reacted, [Juggernaut Stride] pulsed, breaking the root.
Chains lashed toward the Shade, but the phantom moved like water, sliding past, one blade leaving a deep score across the Sentinel’s back.
[Bleed stacked x3]
"Good. Keep him busy."
Alistair darted wide, [Kindle Spark] triggered.
[Kindle Spark Activated]
A burst of flame ignited across open wounds, burn spread.
Sentinel HP: 38%.
Chains swept low, one caught Alistair’s ankle, dragging him off balance.
[HP: 51 → 37.]
Pain lanced through his leg.
"Not good. Stay sharp."
The Herald crowed:
"OHHH! THE LITTLE SHADOW STUMBLES, BUT RISES STILL!"
"BLOOD AND FLAME AGAINST ORDER, WHICH WILL PREVAIL?"
Alistair gritted his teeth.
[Ethereal Phase Activated]
He drifted backward, chains whipping through smoke.
Reformed, daggers ready.
"Not done yet, metal bastard."
The Shade pressed the assault, blades flashing. One carved beneath the Sentinel’s helm, another scored across its ribs.
Sentinel HP: 32%.
Blood Tribute Progress: 1,891 / 5,000
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:09:27
"Damn close. Push harder."
The Sentinel slowed, chains flickering erratically.
[Iron Bastion] flared again, last defense.
Alistair grinned, eyes narrowing.
"Final phase. Let’s see if you can hold it."
And the dance continued, blades and chains, light and shadow.
The gods leaned closer.
The clock ticked louder.
And Alistair fought.
Because losing wasn’t an option.
The Shade moved in.
Twin blades became a blur of silver and shadow, each stroke perfect, each strike aimed to disrupt and punish.
Chains snapped toward it, the Shade slipped through them, one blade lashing across the Sentinel’s thigh, the other scoring deep into its armored shoulder.
The Juggernaut reeled, forced to defend, chains tightening around its core.
"Now."
Alistair saw the moment, just wide enough to slip the knife in.
He focused, ready to cast [Sanguine Grasp].
[Sanguine Grasp Activated]
A pulse of crimson shot through the air, seizing the blood within the Sentinel’s battered form.
The chains jerked, Sentinel staggered, footing lost.
"Got you."
Above, the Herald roared:
"AHA! A HUNTER’S GRASP! THE CHAINS FALTER, SEE HOW OUR LITTLE BLOODLING BARES HIS FANGS!"
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"THE GODS LEAN IN, THE BASTION SHUDDERS!"
Alistair didn’t hesitate.
As the Sentinel stumbled, the Shade struck, both blades carving in perfect unison.
One blade raked down the Juggernaut’s helm sparks flying, a jagged groove left behind.
The second blade thrust deep beneath the Sentinel’s arm, black fluid spurting forth.
Sentinel HP: 24%.
Alistair surged in, Redcrystal Sword glowing.
[Imbued Strike Activated]
"Let’s break something important."
He drove the blade upward, straight into the cage of chains at the Sentinel’s chest.
CRACK. BOOM.
A shockwave burst outward, chains tore free, sparks and black light flaring.
Sentinel HP: 14%
The Herald howled:
"OH, THE TIDE TURNS! FANG AND SHADE STRIKE AS ONE! WILL THE CHAINFATHER’S BASTION FALL? WILL OUR BLOODLING CLAIM HIS DUE?!"
"BET WELL, DEGENERATES, BET WELL!"
Blood Tribute Progress: 2,287 / 5,000
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:08:42
"Not enough. Not yet. Move."
Chains whipped out wildly, desperate now.
The Sentinel staggered, bleeding, burning, its perfect formation fractured.
The Shade pressed again, blades a relentless storm.
Alistair circled, daggers ready, eyes sharp.
"This ends now."
The Shade pressed in, twin blades a storm of perfect strikes.
Alistair circled, watching for an opening, blades gleaming.
And then the Shade flickered.
"No!"
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
[Shade of the Forgotten Duelist — Duration Expired]
A faint ripple of cold air remained, and nothing more.
"Sixty seconds. Should’ve known."
The Sentinel stumbled, bleeding heavily, chains sluggish, but still alive.
Still dangerous.
"Fine. I’ll finish this myself."
Alistair’s eyes narrowed. His breath came rough.
"Time’s tight. No more games."
The Juggernaut tried to rally, chains rising again, armor flaring faintly.
Too late.
Alistair surged mana.
[Ethereal Phase Activated]
He drifted forward, smoke and shadow, slipping through the remaining chains and reformed an instant later, inches from the Sentinel’s chest.
He bellowed. “KNEEL!”
The massive sentinel fell to his knees, and still he towered over him.
Its helm loomed over him, scarred, battered.
Alistair smiled, cold and thin.
"Let’s see your face."
He reached up, grabbed the helm’s lower edge, fingers sinking into fractured iron.
With a wrench, he tore it free.
The face beneath was pale, featureless, almost mannequin-smooth, faint light flickering in dead eyes.
"Fitting."
Searing Vein surged in his veins.
[Searing Vein Activated]
Black-red fire flared across his blade, sparks leaping.
He drove the sword straight through the Sentinel’s exposed throat, black fire consuming the artificial veins beneath.
Veins flashed. Burned. Burst.
The Juggernaut shuddered, chains flailing madly, then falling still.
It crashed to its knees, then to the bone-slick ground.
[Enemy Defeated: Level 23 Chainbound Juggernaut.]
Blood Tribute Progress: 2,431 / 5,000.
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:05:57.
Above, the Herald all but screamed:
"IT IS DONE! THE BLOODMISTRESS’S FANGED SHADOW STRIKES TRUE!"
"THE BASTION FALLS, THE DAGGER PIERCES ORDER!"
"OH, MY DEAR GODLINGS, PAY OUT YOUR WAGERS WELL! THE VAMPIRE DELIVERS!"
Around the arena, the gods erupted, cheers, roars, flashes of power.
A beam of silver shot skyward, another godling hurled a storm of black coins into the air.
The Bloodmistress smiled, slow and satisfied.
Veydran remained still but one gaunt fist clenched tight at his side.
Alistair exhaled, chest heaving.
"One minute left in me, maybe two. Good thing that’s all I needed."
He looked down at the corpse, still smoking.
"Tell your master he should’ve sent two."
The Sentinel’s corpse was still cooling when the Herald descended, spinning in midair like a divine lunatic on a sugar high.
He landed atop the fallen juggernaut, arms wide, cloak snapping in a wind that didn’t exist.
"BEHOLD!" he thundered. "A VICTORY MOST UNLIKELY, AND YET HERE WE ARE!"
Gods above surged with motion, cheers and boos ringed into the air as Alistair raised his chin, his eyes directed at the Bloodmistress.
The Herald leaned in midair, face turning toward Alistair like a vulture scenting something rare.
"You really are a delightful little bloodstain, aren’t you?"
Alistair, panting, bloodied, spat iron from his mouth. "If you’re offering a trophy, I’d prefer mine not screaming."
The Herald grinned, too wide. "Oh no no, no trophies today. Not a spell. Not a sword. Not a trinket, ring, or crown. Something different. Something better. Something..." he lowered his voice theatrically, "tailored." His eyes gleamed. "But not yet."
Alistair narrowed his eyes. "...Creepy way to say 'congrats.'"
The Herald flung out his arms again. "But before that! Our fanged little gladiator still has a bone to pick, literally!"
A pulse of power shimmered from the skeleton behind him, dragonbone, faintly glowing.
"2500 points of BLOODY GLORY still stand between you and your crystalline reward!"
The Herald twirled midair, snapping his fingers.
"So sharpen your blades, vamp-ling. The gods have left the stage, but trust me..." His eyes glinted crimson.
"They’re still watching."
And with that, he was gone, bursting into a mist of golden letters that spelled “BREAK A LEG” before fizzling into smoke.
The cage around Alistair shattered.
The silence that had wrapped around the duel vanished, replaced by shrieking chaos.
Alistair didn’t get a full breath before three champions charged him at once, bleeding, snarling, teeth bared like animals. One missing an arm. Another laughing through a torn cheek. All feral.
"Right," Alistair muttered, blades rising.
"No rest for the impaled."
He kicked into motion, ducked the first swing, and drove his dagger clean through a gnome’s eye socket.
Behind him, the ground shook, Buddy barreled into another enemy as he tried to get close to him, flames wreathing his jaws.
Thessaly was to the left, covered in blood, panting, clothes torn, driving thorn-punched fists into a scaled beastkin’s chest.
Brimma, still in her monstrous spider form, shrieked and launched herself into the air, impaling two champions as they tried to leap over dragonbone ribs.
Alistair fought to reach them, blades flashing. The tide was a crush now, bodies and spells and steel in every direction. Fire clashed with shadow, mana blasts lit the sky like a second dawn.
His hand burned, [Warmth] stacks maxed, health hovering in the danger zone.
[HP: 62/190]
The skeleton loomed behind him, glowing stronger.
Not yet complete.
But close.
He spun, slashed through a dwarven berserker who didn’t even try to defend himself, just howled and charged.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,162.]
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:03:17.
A whisper brushed Alistair’s mind again, the Bloodmistress.
Not words. Just expectation. Hunger wrapped in silk. A sense of lips smiling against his ear.
Alistair gritted his teeth.
"Right. One favor at a time, lady."
Alistair ducked under a cleaving axe, drove his blade into a gnoll's exposed flank, and twisted. Blood fountained, hot and steaming.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,209]
"Faster," he hissed, kicking the body away. Another came, frothing and mad, and he barely managed to parry the first blow before Buddy collided with it from the side, jaws erupting in flame.
He spun, stabbed again.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,261]
The arena was a meat grinder now, everywhere he turned, someone was dying, screaming, burning.
Brimma was spewing green projectiles from her abdomen like a broken siege engine. Thessaly's punches had gone from precise to desperate, her thorned limbs barely keeping the fray back. Blood coated her barked arms. She looked ready to fall.
[Thessaly Progress: 4,829 / 5,000]
[Brimma Progress: 4,390 / 5,000]
Alistair's chest heaved. His blades were coated in gore, one blade cracked, the other vibrating with too much heat. Sweat burned his eyes. A jagged spear of ice flew past his ear and shattered against the dragonbone behind him.
He killed another champion. A dwarf, this time. Then a woman with too many eyes.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,481]
[00:02:41]
It wasn't enough.
He could feel it now. There were too few sane champions left. Too many already dead or too frenzied to live another minute. He couldn't play the long game anymore.
"Fuck it," Alistair growled. "Burn everything."
He staggered back toward the base of the dragon’s ribcage, ducking a spell blast that turned the sand to glass.
He reached deep, to the raw place where Light pulsed within him, fragile and terrible. The gift no vampire should've had.
[Skill Activated: Lightform – Legendary]
WARNING: Aftereffect – Severe Light Vulnerability Imminent.
You will be unable to heal or regenerate during Lightform.
Duration: 20 seconds
Lightform Engaged.
+30% Movement Speed
+25% Light and Dark Magic Power
+10% Passive Burn Damage
Passive Area Effect: 4% HP/sec to nearby enemies
Effect Radius Increased by 20%
Light exploded from him.
Every champion within ten paces screamed.
Notifications flooded his vision:
[14 Damage Dealt – Burn]
[22 Damage Dealt – Burn]
[9 Damage Dealt – Burn]
[18 Damage Dealt – Burn]
His boots skidded across the bone-strewn ground. He was moving too fast, blades carving light-trails, foes stumbling just from being near him.
He was blinding, a flare in the carnage.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,884]
[Blood Tribute Progress: 3,991]
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,037]
He cut down a fae screecher that tried to teleport behind him. He melted a shifter mid-form.
Alistair grunted, shoulder-checking a minotaur off its feet, driving his sword through its neck.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,190]
The glow intensified.
His skin burned from the inside, mana flaring too fast to control. His lungs felt full of fire. But still, he moved.
[00:00:14]
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,472]
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,613]
Ten seconds.
He sliced through a duo locked in combat, killing both before they knew he was there. Flames curled around his shoulders, eyes glowing like miniature suns.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,774]
Seven seconds.
He dove, stabbed, spun.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 4,911]
Five seconds.
A final figure rose in front of him, massive, armored, roaring, he didn’t think. Just drove both weapons in and let the light consume them both.
[Blood Tribute Progress: 5,000 / 5,000 – COMPLETE]
Arena Reset Countdown: 00:00:01
Alistair fell to one knee, gasping, vision flickering, the world about to vanish in light.
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