Chapter 32— Temptation of Shadows
(Shadeblade POV)
The first light of dawn crept into Portscab's alleys like a cautious observer, hesitant to witness what had transpired the night before. The cobblestones were cold, slick with morning dew, and the remnants of last night's chaos—the toppled crates, scattered provisions, and scorch marks—still marked our path like a battlefield frozen in time.
I adjusted the boney mask, its crack from left eye to cheek catching the dim light. Tier‑2. Disciplined. Sword-only combat. Still clumsy. Still alive. But now, the air carried something heavier than the scent of morning—it carried temptation.
The note from the night lingered in my hand, the message clear and simple:
"Abandon them, survive the day. Refuse, and they will bleed before nightfall."
A slow pulse ran through my veins. Survival, whispered by an unseen hand, promised ease. Power and safety dangled like bait. And my crew—Selia, Bran, Lysara, Mira, Korran—were blissfully unaware of the storm I now faced internally.
Selia was the first to notice my silence. "Skeleton, you've gone pale beneath the mask. Did you read the note?"
Bran leaned on his massive sword, smirking, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. "Note, threat, whatever. You survived last night. You can survive anything."
I clenched my fists. "It's… complicated. Someone's trying to force a choice. Me versus them."
Mira's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned me calmly. "Shadeblade… betrayal doesn't knock politely. It whispers, it tempts, it tests. You must act deliberately. Not impulsively."
Lysara, standing a few feet away, her Tier‑3 presence radiating calm, simply said, "Temptation is a tool. Decide if it will cut your enemies—or your soul."
Even Korran, ever the cold observer, added, "Every step you take now will be measured against fundamentals. A Tier‑2 may stumble in morality as easily as in combat. Study the angles, anticipate the moves, and do not let fear dictate action."
I swallowed hard. Step lightly. Step carefully. Sword ready. Mind sharper than ever.
---
The sun climbed higher, revealing the city in its unpolished glory. Alleyways twisted like veins, marketplaces slowly waking, vendors shouting, and the distant clang of blacksmiths' hammers creating a rhythmic background. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. A stark contrast to the note's sinister promise.
Selia hopped lightly from a crate, spinning her dagger like she always did, breaking my tension momentarily. "Skeleton, want me to make a bet? I say you'll trip once today before making the choice."
I muttered beneath the mask, "I hate you."
Bran roared with laughter. "One trip? Pfft. Make that ten! You're practically a comedy troupe at this point!"
I shook my head. Humor was optional, yes, but the laughter barely masked the weight pressing on my shoulders. My sword felt heavier. My fundamentals felt… insufficient against moral peril.
The alley opened to a small courtyard where the first signs of the threat appeared—a group of hooded figures, indistinct but deliberate in their movements. One stepped forward, removing their hood: Sylas, the mercenary who had served as our informant, now revealed as the instrument of our trial.
"You read the note," Sylas said, voice low and calculated. "Choice is simple. Walk away now. Safety. Power. No one gets hurt. Or stay, fight… and some of your team may not survive."
I tightened my grip on the sword. Tier‑2. Sword-only. No magic. Fundamentals. Discipline. Humor… optional, but entirely useless here.
Selia hissed, twirling her dagger. "Skeleton… don't even think about it. They're bluffing. You've got us. We've got your back."
Bran planted his massive shield into the ground. "Yeah! Leave us behind? I'd personally… well, never mind. Don't even joke about it!"
Lysara stepped beside me, eyes cold, blade ready. "We survive as a unit. Always. Abandoning them is not an option, Shadeblade. Evaluate the risk, but do not compromise loyalty."
Mira's precise movements placed her between us and Sylas, calculating angles of attack and defense simultaneously. "Every choice has consequence. Loyalty now will define the future. Betrayal now… will stain everything you fight for."
Korran, leaning against a wall, his gaze unwavering, finally spoke. "Observe, Shadeblade. Fundamentals will guide your actions. Let the mind—not fear, not temptation—dictate your steps."
I exhaled slowly, masking the quiver in my limbs. Sword in hand, clumsy as I may be, mask tight, eyes on Sylas, I realized: this was a fight unlike any I had trained for. No monster, no mercenary, no gang. This was a battle for morality, trust, and survival intertwined.
---
Sylas smirked, stepping closer. "Time's short. Decide quickly."
Step lightly. Step carefully. Pivot. Sword ready.
The decision crystallized. I would not abandon them. Not Selia. Not Bran. Not Lysara. Not Mira. Not even Korran, for all his coldness. Survival alone was meaningless without the team.
"Wrong choice," I said beneath the mask, voice low but firm. Step. Pivot. Lunge. My sword caught Sylas across the arm, a non-lethal strike but enough to assert dominance.
Selia's laughter broke through, sharp and high. "Skeleton finally got serious! And still managed to make it dramatic!"
Bran's deep laugh followed. "You're a disaster… but you're our disaster!"
Lysara moved beside me seamlessly, cutting off escape routes. Mira coordinated our positioning. Korran's hand rested briefly on my shoulder, acknowledgment given for decision and execution.
Sylas, realizing the gamble had failed, retreated into the shadows, leaving behind the sense that Portscab's streets had tested us—and lost.
---
By mid-morning, the city resumed its routine, oblivious to the moral storm that had raged in its alleys. My crew gathered for a brief rest, the aftermath of chaos and betrayal leaving us battered but resolute. Step lightly. Step carefully. Fundamentals intact. Sword ready. Humor… optional, but somehow, Selia and Bran made it unavoidable.
Shadeblade—Tier‑2 Disciplined, sword-only, clumsy, and utterly loyal—had survived not only monsters and physical threats, but the more insidious battle of temptation and moral testing.
And the day had only just begun.