Chapter 35 — Ambush and Rising Stakes
(Shadeblade POV)
The sky was a bruised purple, streaked with fiery gold as the sun began its slow descent behind the jagged rooftops of Portscab. The air smelled of smoke, sweat, and roasted meat—Bran had insisted on a celebratory breakfast-turned-lunch-turned-snack after yesterday's monster skirmish. Somehow, we had survived unscathed, and I was still clinging to Tier‑2, sword-only discipline, clumsily executed but alive.
I adjusted the boney mask, the crack across my left eye catching the last rays of sun. Step lightly. Pivot. Fundamentals. Observation. Humor… optional, but with Selia and Bran around, inevitable.
The day began with our new assignment: escort a convoy of merchant wagons through the outskirts of the city to a neighboring village. A minor task—or so it seemed.
"Skeleton, try not to trip over the wagons this time," Selia called from the rooftops, twirling a dagger idly. "We don't want a repeat of the 'domino alley incident.'"
"Very funny," I muttered beneath the mask, already noting loose stones along the path. Step lightly. Pivot. Adjust footing. Try not to ruin morale before the mission even starts.
Bran yawned, stretching his massive arms, one hand resting on his shield. "Relax, Skeleton. Even if you trip, it'll be funny. I'll catch both you and the wagon."
Vaelric Dorn, now officially part of our patchwork crew, stood stiffly beside me, crimson cloak immaculate. His expression was a mix of concentration and lingering embarrassment from previous lessons. Tier‑2, yes, skilled, yes—but pride tempered by humility, at least a fraction.
"You… really move like that," he muttered, watching me carefully. "And somehow, your clumsiness… works."
I snorted under the mask. "Chaos optional. Fundamentals… mandatory. Watch and learn, noble brat. Or trip with style."
Lysara adjusted her bow, cold eyes scanning the perimeter. "Stay alert. Something feels off. The shadows have teeth today."
Mira unfolded her map with surgical precision. "Route's clear for now. But don't let your guard down. One mistake could be… inconvenient."
Korran leaned against a wagon, expression unreadable, observing everything. "Fundamentals first. Observation second. Your sword… is the third lesson. Everything else is noise."
---
We began moving. Wagons creaked, horses whinnied, the air tense but calm. Step lightly. Pivot. Fundamentals. The path seemed deceptively quiet.
And then it happened.
A roar, unnatural, shaking the earth beneath our feet.
From the trees lining the path, shadows moved. Massive shapes, hulking forms, claws scraping stone and wood. Tier‑3 monstrosities—wolf-like, but taller, sinewy, and jagged, with glowing amber eyes that pierced the dusk.
Selia didn't hesitate. "Targets acquired! Skeleton, stay upright! Vaelric, follow my lead!"
I groaned beneath the mask, already tripping over a stray root. Sword swung instinctively, cutting one of the creatures mid-leap. The root snagged my foot, sending me sprawling—but the impact made the monster stumble into another.
"Brilliant!" Selia cheered from above, flipping into a roll and landing beside me. "A clumsy disaster saves the day—again!"
Bran roared, smashing down a monster with his shield, laughter booming. "Skeleton, I swear, you're a walking spectacle!"
Vaelric's eyes widened. Pride clashed with fear. He hesitated, sword raised, but then one of the creatures lunged. Step lightly. Pivot. Duck. Slash. I shoved him aside just in time. He stumbled—but this time, he recovered on his own, swinging with precision.
"You… adapt," he muttered, voice tight. "I… see it now. Fundamentals… matter."
I grunted, adjusting the mask. "Glad you noticed. Next time, try not to panic mid-stumble."
Lysara's arrows found their marks silently, each one felling a creature with precise efficiency. Mira coordinated quietly, pointing out weak spots and flanking paths. Korran remained cold, stepping only when necessary, his strikes surgical.
---
The fight escalated. One monster leapt from the treeline, snapping toward Vaelric. Step lightly. Pivot. I blocked with my sword just in time, sending it sprawling into the dirt.
"Thanks," Vaelric said, chest heaving. Pride still clung to him, but humility had a foothold.
"Don't thank me yet," I muttered beneath the mask. "We're not dead… yet."
Selia's laughter rang out. "Skeleton, teach him a lesson in humility! Subtlety optional, chaos mandatory!"
Bran laughed, sending another monster flying backward. "Alive, funny, effective—Skeleton strikes again!"
I managed to trip over a broken branch, spinning wildly but landing perfectly behind a monster. Slash, pivot, stab—it fell. Vaelric raised an eyebrow. "That… was intentional?"
"Absolutely," I said, bowing slightly mid-trip. "Step lightly, pivot with flair, confuse your enemies—and occasionally yourself."
---
The battle finally reached its climax. Monsters defeated, some fled, others neutralized. Sweat, dirt, and laughter filled the clearing. Vaelric stood, chest heaving, cloak torn slightly at the hem, pride softened but not broken.
"You… were right," he admitted quietly. "Chaos… discipline… fundamentals. It's more than strength alone."
I adjusted the mask, smirking beneath it. "Welcome to Portscab. Step lightly, sword ready, and never underestimate clumsiness."
Selia landed beside us, grinning. "Skeleton, your comedic timing saved us… again. I may never recover from laughing at your falling-on-purpose maneuver."
Bran chuckled. "Alive, sharp, hilarious. And Vaelric… you survived. I'll call that progress."
Lysara's expression was calm, her small nod approval enough. "Fundamentals intact. Observation applied. Team survived. Morale preserved. Vaelric begins… adaptation."
Mira clapped lightly. "Coordination intact. Loyalty proven. Lessons embedded."
Korran's cold gaze scanned all of us. "Tier‑2, Sword-only, clumsy, disciplined… and decisive. Leadership emerges. Vaelric… learning begins. Lesson applied in action."
---
As night fell, we gathered around a roaring fire. Meat, bread, and Bran's questionable stew awaited us. The stars flickered faintly above, distant observers of our mess and triumph.
Vaelric ate silently, thoughtful. Pride had been tempered, ego fractured—but humility was taking root. Step lightly. Sword ready. Trust and adaptation learned in the fire of combat.
I adjusted my mask, a small smile beneath it. Humor, chaos, discipline, trust, and first lessons in humility all stitched together into our crew.
Tomorrow would bring even greater challenges. But tonight, Shadeblade, the clumsy Tier‑2 swordmaster, had survived ambush, taught a noble brat humility, and ensured the team's survival—while somehow remaining hilariously disastrous.