The sky was a roiling sea of black and crimson, clouds swirling as if pulled into a vortex above the battlefield. The oppressive pressure in the air made it hard to breathe, every inhalation laced with the metallic taste of magic. Kaelen stood in the center of the ruined plaza, his boots grinding against shards of broken stone, his gaze locked on the approaching tide of enemies. The shadow legion fanned out in all directions, their eyes glowing faintly as if lit by distant embers. At their head, Darius strode forward with deliberate steps, each one sending tremors through the fractured ground.
"You think you can still stand after what I've taken from you?" Darius' voice cut through the chaos, deep and heavy. "Your strength is gone, your allies are scattered. You are nothing."
Kaelen gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles whitened. The weight of exhaustion pressed against his limbs, but the fire in his chest burned hotter. "Nothing?" His voice was steady, low. "I am still breathing. That is enough."
Darius sneered and raised his hand. The shadow legion surged forward in perfect unison, their weapons raised, their movements precise and inhuman. Kaelen moved first. His blade flashed once, twice, carving through the first wave before they could close in. He twisted his body, deflecting a spear thrust, then slammed his boot into a soldier's chest, sending the figure sprawling. Magic pulsed in his veins, his control sharper than it had ever been. He could feel every movement in the battlefield, every shift of energy.
From the edge of the plaza, a burst of light erupted. Selene had returned, her staff glowing with a brilliance that cut through the suffocating darkness. "You are not fighting this alone," she called out, her voice unwavering. Lightning leapt from her weapon, arcing through the enemy ranks and scattering several soldiers into mist. Behind her came Kaelen, bloodied but unbroken, dragging two massive axes through the ground before lifting them into a whirl of steel.
The three of them moved as one. Kaelen cut through the middle, his strikes sharp and unrelenting, while Selene shattered enemy formations with precision spells. Kaelen's axes tore through armor and bone alike, his battle cries echoing above the clash of steel. But for every soldier they felled, more took their place.
Darius entered the fray like a storm. His blade met Kaelen's with a shattering impact that sent shockwaves rippling through the plaza. Kaelen slid back several feet, his boots leaving deep grooves in the stone, but he held his ground. Darius came at him again, his attacks a relentless cascade of power. Sparks burst from each clash, the air thick with the heat of magic and the stench of scorched stone.
Selene tried to intervene, but a wall of shadow erupted between her and Kaelen, cutting her off. Kaelen charged at Darius from the side, but a single swing of the enemy commander's sword knocked him back like a ragdoll. The battle narrowed to just the two of them, a brutal rhythm of strike and counterstrike.
Kaelen felt every blow reverberate through his bones. His arms screamed from the force of blocking Darius' relentless assault. He shifted his stance, letting instinct take over, slipping into the fluid style that Master Aelric had drilled into him years ago. He let Darius overextend, sidestepping just enough to slash across his opponent's armored side. Sparks flew, and Darius grunted, but he did not slow.
"You cannot kill me," Darius growled, his eyes burning like molten iron. "This world has no place for the weak, and you are still that abandoned boy."
The words struck like a physical blow, but instead of faltering, Kaelen's vision sharpened. He saw the battlefield behind Darius, saw Selene breaking through the shadow barrier, saw Kaelen pushing himself to his feet again. He was not that boy anymore. He was the blade that cut through the dark.
He surged forward, ignoring the pain in his body, driving Darius back step by step. The force of his attacks began to shift the momentum. Darius blocked high, and Kaelen pivoted low, driving his knee into the man's ribs before slashing upward in a vicious arc. For the first time, Darius' stance wavered.
Selene's voice rang out, her magic exploding in a sphere of light that engulfed the entire plaza. Shadows recoiled, the air crackling. Kaelen roared, charging through the thinning enemy lines, his axes spinning in a deadly dance.
The moment of distraction was all Kaelen needed. He channeled every ounce of power left in him, his blade glowing with a deep, crimson light. The world seemed to slow as he drove the sword forward, straight toward the crack in Darius' armor. The impact was like a thunderclap. Energy erupted in a blinding flash, throwing both men backward.
When Kaelen forced himself to his feet, his vision blurred and his breathing ragged, Darius was kneeling. His armor was shattered along one side, and blood ran freely from the wound. The shadow legion faltered, their movements breaking as if their control had been severed.
"This is not over," Darius hissed, his voice laced with venom. He reached out, and shadows swirled around him, lifting him off the ground before Kaelen could close the distance. In a heartbeat, he was gone, the remnants of his army melting into the air with him.
The silence that followed was deafening. Kaelen stood in the center of the ruin, his chest heaving. Selene came to his side, her hand on his arm. "You hurt him," she said softly. "You made him bleed."
Kaelen limped over, his grin tired but proud. "That is the first time I have ever seen him retreat."
Kaelen sheathed his sword, the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy cloak. "He will be back," he said. "And next time, I will finish it."
The three of them stood together amid the wreckage, the sky still swirling but less violently now. They had survived the breaking point, but the war was far from over.
The chamber trembled as Kaelenen's magic clashed with the oncoming barrage of radiant energy. Each blast scorched the air and sent shockwaves rippling through the cracked marble floor. He pushed forward, teeth clenched, weaving dark tendrils of shadow around his arms to absorb the brunt of the assault. The High Inquisitor was relentless, her staff radiating light so bright it threatened to burn away the shadows entirely.
"You cannot win," she shouted, her voice ringing like a blade on steel.
Kaelenen ignored her words and hurled a spear of darkness toward her. She deflected it with a sweep of her staff, but the motion exposed her flank. In an instant, Kaelenen lunged, his blade carving through the air in a vicious arc. Sparks erupted as steel met enchanted metal, the force sending her sliding back.
He saw it then—a flicker of strain in her eyes, the smallest crack in her composure. It was enough. Kaelenen surged forward, his strikes coming faster, harder, each one infused with raw shadow power. The air was alive with the scent of ozone and burning stone.
But the High Inquisitor adapted quickly. With a single guttural chant, she unleashed a shockwave that flung Kaelenen backward. He hit the wall hard, the impact rattling through his bones. Before he could recover, she was already advancing, her staff glowing with condensed holy energy.
Kaelenen rolled aside just as the blast obliterated the wall where he had been. Chunks of stone rained down, and through the newly opened breach he could see the city below—its streets in chaos, soldiers clashing with shadow-born creatures under a blood-red sky. The battle outside mirrored the one within.
The sight only fueled him. With a surge of power, Kaelenen's form blurred, his speed multiplying. He darted around the chamber, forcing the High Inquisitor to twist and pivot in a desperate attempt to track him. He struck from the shadows, each blow aimed to wear her down.
Their magic collided in a final, blinding flash that made the air shiver. When the light faded, both stood heaving for breath, their weapons trembling in their hands. Then, slowly, Kaelenen's smirk spread.
"You're weakening," he said, his voice low and sure.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing. Kaelenen didn't wait for a response. He vanished into the shadow beneath her feet, reappearing behind her with his blade poised to strike. She spun just in time, the clash of their weapons ringing out like a death knell.
Outside, a distant roar echoed—a deep, guttural sound that shook the foundation beneath them. Both turned their heads for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, Kaelenen made his move. His blade pierced through her guard, slicing across her shoulder. She staggered, blood darkening her pristine robes.
Her eyes blazed with defiance, but Kaelenen could see it now. The end was coming, and nothing could stop it.
Got it. I will continue Chapter 19 of The Abandoned Dark Prodigy in paragraph format with no em dashes, keeping the pacing intense and the tone consistent.
The air grew heavy with the scent of charred stone as Kaelen pressed forward, each step quick and deliberate. Flames flickered along the broken walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like predators around him. The corridor ahead was littered with shattered armor and the bodies of fallen soldiers, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Somewhere in the distance, a low rumble shook the ground beneath his boots. The enemy was closing in, and the fortress would soon become a cage.
Kaelen's grip tightened around his blade, its dark edge pulsing faintly as if in sync with his heartbeat. He could feel the energy surging within, a dangerous mix of his own magic and the unnatural power granted by the relic. Every swing came easier now, faster, deadlier. Yet he knew the cost. Every ounce of strength he borrowed chipped away at something inside him. But hesitation was a luxury he could not afford.
The sound of steel on stone rang out as three armored soldiers rushed from a side passage, spears leveled at his chest. Kaelen pivoted, sidestepping the first thrust and slashing across the second man's neck. Blood sprayed against the wall. Without breaking stride, he spun into the third, driving his blade through the man's armor and wrenching it free before the body even hit the ground. The first soldier lunged again, but Kaelen caught the spear's shaft with his bare hand, the force of his grip snapping it in half. One clean stroke finished him.
He did not stop to watch them fall. Every moment counted. He sprinted down the hall and burst into the main hall of the fortress. The great chamber had been transformed into a battlefield, with soldiers clashing amidst overturned tables and burning debris. A massive breach in the far wall revealed the storm outside, rain pouring in and hissing against the flames. Lightning flashed, illuminating the silhouette of a towering figure beyond the breach.
Kaelen's stomach tightened. It was General Veyran. The man was a legend among the empire's armies, a warrior whose presence alone could shift the tide of battle. His armor was blackened steel trimmed in gold, his warhammer nearly as tall as Kaelen himself. Each step he took shook the ground, the weapon's head sparking faintly with the energy of some enchantment.
"Kaelen," Veyran's voice boomed over the chaos, "you should have stayed in the shadows where you belong." His words were laced with contempt, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity, as if measuring Kaelen's worth in this moment.
Kaelen said nothing. Words would change nothing here. He advanced, the sound of his boots splashing in puddles mixing with the distant thunder. Around them, soldiers began to back away, giving the two warriors space. Even the clash of battle seemed to fade, all attention drawn to this single confrontation.
Veyran struck first, the warhammer swinging in a crushing arc toward Kaelen's ribs. Kaelen dropped low, feeling the wind of the blow pass over his head, then drove forward, slashing at the general's side. The blade met steel, sending a jolt through his arm. Veyran barely flinched, twisting to bring the hammer around again. This time, Kaelen deflected the blow with his sword's flat, sparks flying as the weapons met.
The general pressed the attack relentlessly, each swing forcing Kaelen back a step. The sheer power behind those strikes was enough to shatter stone. Kaelen relied on speed, weaving between the blows, striking at the gaps in Veyran's armor. A shallow cut appeared along the man's forearm, but it only seemed to fuel his aggression.
"You are faster than I expected," Veyran admitted, his tone almost respectful. "But speed cannot save you forever."
Kaelen's breathing was steady, his mind sharp despite the strain. He could feel the relic's power urging him forward, whispering promises of victory if he would just let go and surrender fully to it. He pushed the temptation aside and focused on the fight. Veyran swung high, and Kaelen ducked under it, driving his shoulder into the general's chest to knock him off balance. The impact bought him a moment, and he used it to slash at Veyran's knee. The general stumbled but recovered instantly, bringing the hammer down in a vertical strike that cracked the floor where Kaelen had been standing a heartbeat earlier.
Rain was pouring harder now, soaking the floor and making every step treacherous. Kaelen used it to his advantage, sliding to one side and catching Veyran's wrist with his free hand. He twisted sharply, forcing the general to loosen his grip, and with a violent pull wrenched the warhammer from his grasp. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.
For the first time, Veyran's expression shifted. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a grim smile. "Impressive," he said quietly, before drawing a curved dagger from his belt. His movements were faster now, more precise, each slash aimed to kill.
Kaelen met the assault head-on, their blades flashing in the dim light. The fight was no longer about brute force but precision and timing. Kaelen parried a downward strike, stepped inside Veyran's guard, and drove his sword through the gap in the general's chestplate. The steel pierced deep, and Veyran let out a harsh breath, his eyes locking with Kaelen's for a moment that felt like an eternity. Then the strength left his body, and he fell to his knees before collapsing entirely.
Kaelen stood over him, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. The battlefield was silent except for the hiss of rain and the crackle of dying flames. Soldiers on both sides watched, their faces a mix of fear and awe. Without a word, Kaelen turned toward the breach in the wall. Beyond it lay the storm, and somewhere beyond that, the next battle.