⚔️ **CHAPTER 81 — Shadows and Steel**
The ruins were quiet… too quiet. Mist curled along shattered stone and scorched trees like serpents. Kael's muscles screamed, hunger gnawed deep, and exhaustion tugged at every step—but Centering and Iron Mind kept him upright. The cursed sword pulsed in his hand, whispering, dark and impatient.
*"Ah… more will come. More blood, more chaos… yes… this is delightful,"* it hissed. *"I feel them… weak, foolish, fragile. Let us dance, boy."*
Kael tightened his grip. *We fight smart. We survive together.*
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From the mist, new figures emerged—**minor villains**, mercenaries and Council lieutenants, each with a unique skill:
* **Brask**, a giant of a man wielding twin maces, capable of crushing walls and timber alike.
* **Selara**, a nimble assassin, using smoke and daggers to strike from unexpected angles.
* **Torven**, a minor warlock, who summoned spikes of earth and fire from the ground.
Kael's companions tensed. The Council generals had returned, and now these subordinates were adding chaos to the battlefield.
*"Perfect… more fodder for clever strikes… and for my guidance, yes?"* the cursed sword whispered. Its voice was sharp, teasing, evil—but laced with a strange attachment.
Kael blocked the pull of temptation. *Not yet. We survive first.*
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Brask charged first, swinging twin maces with bone-crushing force. Mireya met him head-on, shield locking against one swing, shoving him into a scorched wall of Caelin's fire. The impact rattled her bones, but Kael pivoted, threading Centering and Iron Mind through the chaotic battlefield.
Selara darted from smoke, daggers aimed for weak spots. The cursed sword hummed violently.
*"Ah… she will strike, she will falter… we could kill them all! Taste the thrill! Strike now!"*
Kael dodged, slashing precisely, letting the sword's power guide him—but ignoring its darker whispers. A flick of the blade disarmed Selara, sending her dagger flying into the mist.
Torven summoned spikes of earth from below. Kael leapt, landing amid a small corridor created by Caelin's flames. The sword pulsed, whispering again:
*"Yes… dance with me, boy! Crush them! Tear them apart! They are weak!"*
Kael struck with calculated precision, slicing through Torven's spikes while balancing on unstable ground. Iron Mind filtered his fear, hunger, and the sword's malicious whispers.
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The Council generals—Rhayel, Tavric, Varynn, Soryn, and Lysera—coordinated attacks above. Tavric hurled massive logs; Rhayel struck from shadows; Lysera's storm ripped through scorched timber; Soryn pressed psychic assaults.
Kael pivoted, threading movement through chaos. Caelin reshaped fire to block paths, Mireya protected the front, and Tomas struck from shadows, disrupting psychic attacks.
The minor villains created openings the cursed sword suggested exploiting:
*"Yes… yes… over there! Kill, crush, dominate! Let me guide your hand!"*
Kael hesitated, resisting the seductive pull. He used the suggestions strategically, not recklessly, striking only when safe—but each swing felt sharper, faster, stronger than normal. The sword hummed in approval, darkly satisfied, beginning to form a **grudging attachment**.
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By nightfall, the Council and their minor villains withdrew. Ruins were scorched, timber shattered, and scorched earth marked their retreat. Kael collapsed to one knee, breathing hard, muscles trembling.
*"Clever… persistent… we survived together,"* the cursed sword whispered, almost gently. *"I am beginning… to like you, Kael. Fragile, clever, strong… yes… necessary."*
Kael exhaled, gripping the blade tighter. *We survive… together. But I decide how.*
The mist shifted, curling around the battlefield like living shadows. The storm had passed, but the **battle had become darker, more dangerous, and infinitely more complex**. The cursed sword had begun its insidious attachment, whispering only to Kael—and the Council would return, stronger than ever.
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