Web of Blades - Chapter 18: The Path of Shadow

A gloomfang lunged from the darkness, and Kalden let it come.

He shifted his weight at the last second, feeling the whisper of claws against his throat. Two crimson blades broke from orbit and took off the creature’s legs at the knees. Its shriek echoed off the canyon walls as it crumbled to the stone floor.

Two more gloomfangs rushed Zukan from behind. Kalden's blades found them before they could strike—one through the stomach, one through the ankle.

No lethal blows, of course. Kalden needed their souls intact.

A year ago, his heart would have hammered through fights like this. He would have felt Akari through their bond, her instincts weaving with his until they moved like a single mana artist.

Now there was only silence. Clean techniques. Efficient results.

They fought on a stone bridge that spanned an underground canyon. Buildings protruded from the cliffs on either side, along with hundreds of pale blue crystals that grew from cracks in the stone. Most were no bigger than Kalden’s head, while others were larger than cars, chasing away the darkness like full moons in the night sky.

Half a dozen more gloomfangs appeared at the end of the bridge: a Master and five Artisans. Each one had the face of a cave bat and the body of a hairless ape. Dark carapace covered their skin like wet obsidian that shone in the crystal light.

The rest of the pack struck from above and below. Some leapt from the upper balconies and windows, while others pulled themselves over the bridge's stone railing. Enough to overwhelm most Masters in seconds.

But Kalden’s mana filled the battlefield from edge to edge, and his Cloak peeled back the chaos. He felt every beating heart and soaring technique. Every threat and possibility.

More gloomfangs collapsed by the second. Some fell to Kalden’s flying blades, while others died to Zukan’s spear. By the time they’d finished, over three dozen bodies littered the stone bridge. The creatures tried to scramble back with their remaining limbs, but Kalden unveiled his full strength, pinning them in place through sheer force of will.

Then he opened his Aeon soul and drank in their power. 

As always, Kalden took the Master-level beasts for himself, breaking down their structural mana and using it to expand his own soul. He still had a long road to the Grandmaster realm, but every day brought him one step closer.

The Artisan-level souls went to Zukan. These were far more numerous than the Masters—almost too much power for Zukan to absorb in a single day. 

Back in Espiria, it had taken Kalden and Akari several months to reach the threshold for the Master realm. But Zukan was more than halfway there, and they’d only spent four weeks in the Shadow Garden. 

At this rate, he should advance by the time Kalden had his Veilcord. Maybe even sooner.

Their surroundings lay eerily quiet by the time they’d finished draining their enemies’ mana. The only sound was a faint wind that sighed through the canyon.

Kalden turned back to his teammate. “You doing alright?”

Zukan gave a weary nod, wiping a layer of sweat from his scaly brow. “Still hurts every time.”

“It gets easier once you’re a Master,” Kalden replied.

“Does it?”

He grinned. “Only because it’s harder to find volunteers.”

A makeshift water skin appeared in Kalden’s hand a second later, and he passed it to Zukan—carefully, of course. This thing had taken them an entire day to craft, and it was held together by hopes and wishes.

Zukan took a small drink before passing back the skin, then Kalden returned it to the pocket dimension inside his belt pouch. The aqueducts had gone dry in this part of the city, and he had no idea when they could refill their supply. In the meantime, Artisans needed water far more than Masters.

They stepped around the sea of dark corpses toward the opposite side of the stone bridge. It ended in a tunnel that cut twenty yards into the stone wall. From there, they took a left and followed the length of the canyon. Smaller tunnels branched up and down, leading to the various buildings that protruded from the cliffside.

They passed through wide chambers filled with old machinery, from giant gears and anvils, to strange crystal orbs and interlocking rings. Other chambers lay empty, lined with statues or decorative pillars.

Eventually, the path reached a junction, and Zukan strode forward without stopping.

“Wait.” Kalden held out a hand to stop his friend.

The dragonborn froze, then his eyes took on a distant look as he opened his Silver Sight. “Another portal?”

Kalden nodded. The city’s original inhabitants had built permanent portals into the stone archways and designed them to look as seamless as possible. Somehow, these portals had endured for thousands of years, untouched by time or scavengers. Angels only knew how they still functioned. Probably the same mysterious force that kept these tunnels from collapsing.

Most of these portals were harmless—some might even be shortcuts—but the aspirants of the Shadow Garden avoided them. Even a seemingly innocuous doorway could snap shut behind you. Then you’d be trapped somewhere in the Hollows with no sense of direction.

Kalden’s lips curled as he imagined Akari here in the Shadow Garden. She’d never liked rules or traditions, and she would have walked straight through a portal just to spite everyone.

Knowing her, it might actually pay off.

The smile faded before it fully formed. Without Akari and the others, it was far too easy to fall into the same routine for weeks on end. Every day, he and Zukan woke up and traveled for hours through identical tunnels, fighting any mana beasts they met along the way. Then they ate, slept, and did it all over again.

Kalden had always been disciplined—he'd prided himself on that. But discipline felt different when you pushed back against chaos. This was closer to sleepwalking.

“Which way would you suggest?” Zukan’s voice pulled him back to the present moment.

Kalden glanced around at their options. A wider tunnel opened on their left, and a stairwell branched off to their right, spiraling up and down. Then he closed his eyes and reached out with his Master senses.

The ambient mana on their left felt raw and untamed—probably a natural cave system that merged with the city’s hand-carved tunnels. He also caught the scent of copper and rotting fruit. More gloomfangs, no doubt.

He shifted his focus to the stairwell. The upper tunnels led to a more confined space, while Kalden caught a faint draft from the lower staircase. His Second Brain cross-referenced this  with his mental map. During their previous battle, he’d seen a bridge further down the canyon. This seemed to be their best chance of reaching it. 

“This way,” Kalden said as he descended the stone staircase. This led to a wider tunnel that resembled a thoroughfare, with curved stone ceilings and pillars like ancient trees. Smaller structures protruded from the walls, resembling small shops or businesses.

“We’ve been walking through this city for days,” Zukan mused. “How many miles has it been?”

Kalden sent a trickle of mana to his Second Brain. “Fifty-five.”

“Fifty-five miles,” the dragonborn echoed. “No city on the surface is this vast.”

Koreldon City still had more total square miles, but Kalden saw his point. “Makes you wonder what else is down here.

The Hollows spanned the entire planet, with entrances scattered throughout all five continents. And yes, that included Vordica. The strongest denizens could threaten Mystics, and you couldn’t venture too deep without using the portal system. As a result, the deeper levels remained unexplored to this day. There could be thousands of cities just like this one.

“And why dig so deep?” Zukan asked. “Even with an army of stone artists, it seems impractical.”

“Maybe they were searching for something,” Kalden said. “Like us.”

“Or they were hiding from something,” Zukan replied.

Their route intersected the canyon, and a wider bridge took them back toward the eastern side. Several massive statues flanked their path. Three stories tall, they wore hooded robes and held glowing crystals in their outstretched hands. One was missing its head. Another had been severed at the waist.

Kalden stopped walking when he heard a rushing sound from the canyon’s opposite end. “That better be what I think it is.”

They jogged around the next statue for a better view. Sure enough, a thin waterfall spilled from a crack in the canyon wall. The droplets caught the crystal light as they fell, shining pale blue before vanishing into the darkness below.

“Finally,” Zukan said.

A narrow path ran along the wall beneath the waterfall, carved directly into the stone. It hugged the cliff face for at least five yards before ending at a structure built into the rock itself. Some kind of house? Kalden reached out with his Master senses, but he didn’t sense any mana inside. In that case, it wasn’t a bad spot to make camp.

Kalden let the way down the narrow stone path, pressing his back against the canyon wall. The stone was slick beneath his boots, worn smooth by centuries of flowing water. He moved sideways, one step at a time, until the waterfall loomed directly overhead.

Kalden drew in a sharp breath as the cool water struck his scalp and shoulders, soaking through his T-shirt in an instant. He leaned back his head for several heartbeats, letting it wash the blood and cave dust from his face. Then he opened his mouth and drank. It tasted surprisingly clean on his tongue. Either that, or four weeks in the Shadow Garden had lowered his standards. 

Several more seconds passed, then Kalden stepped out of the waterfall and continued down the path. There would be time for a proper shower later. 

Inside the house, he and Zukan unloaded their belongings from Kalden’s pocket storage, including the animal furs they’d made into bedrolls and pillows. He also retrieved several strips of zylusk meat, and a handful of pale mushrooms they’d harvested last week.

From there, they followed their usual routine. Kalden got to work on the wards while Zukan conjured a fire in the hearth.

Rather than warding the house itself, Kalden followed the winding path back to the bridge and formed a basic sigil grid on either side. He layered multiple triggers into the alarm: motion, mana, and even a crude sound detector.

Their campsite was defensible enough, but also a dead-end if someone tried to ambush them. In this case, he worried more about his fellow aspirants than mana beasts. He could sense a gloomfang or zylusk from half a mile away, but his fellow Masters knew how to veil their power.

They ate in silence when Kalden returned, listening to the muffled roar of the waterfall and the soft crackle of Zukan’s fire technique.

“You’ve been quiet about my father’s plan,” Kalden said as they ate.

Zukan paused as he chewed his zylusk leg. “Have I?”

“We’re trying to leave the planet.” Kalden glanced down at the golden star that hung from the dragonborn’s neck. “I thought the Angelic Church didn’t believe in ascension.” 

Zukan let out a low chuckle. “You waited this long to ask me that?” 

“Guess I was afraid of what you’d say.”

He grunted. “I’m surprised you ever managed to share your feelings with Akari.”

“Actually, she stole my notebook.” 

Zukan laughed again, more genuinely this time. “There’s one mystery solved.”

Kalden smiled, but he felt Akari’s absence like a physical pain in his chest. It was the same ache he felt for Sozen and the Darklights. But Akari was still alive, wasn’t she? He would feel it through their soulbond if something happened to her.

But no . . . their soulbond didn’t work across this distance. If she died in the Storm Garden, he would feel nothing.

Kalden pressed on to distract himself. “Well? You don’t strike me as someone who compromises his values. Even for your teammates or long-term goals.”

“Leaving this planet is not true ascension,” Zukan replied. “The Abyss is nothing but a pathway between worlds.” Zukan gestured around them. “Not so different from the Hollows. But our enemy seeks true accession. And he must destroy this planet to do it. It’s obvious to me why the Angels forbid such a thing.”

“Well. When you put it that way . . .” Kalden trailed off as his aspect sent him a warning. 

Zukan must have noticed his expression, because he immediately stiffened. “The silent alarm?” 

“Stay here.” Kalden got to his feet and crept toward the front of the house. “I’ll check it out.”

He stepped outside, using the waterfall as cover. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he spotted a two figures on the stone bridge. 

The first wore a black tank top and dark-wash jeans. Her dark hair hung in a cluster of dreadlocks, and the tattoos on her collarbones seemed to blend with the silver Veilcord on her arms.

The second figure had pale skin and bright red hair. She wore a flannel shirt and jeans, but Kalden caught a glimpse of her bare forearms. No Veilcord, then. 

Both women turned toward Kalden, and he finally recognized their faces in the dim light. Tori Raizen and Lyra Skyfall— his old friends from Blood Army.

They headed straight toward the waterfall, and Kalden knew they’d find him. Better to make the first move. 

“Tori?” Kalden held up his hands as he stepped through the waterfall. “It’s me. Kalden Trengsen.”

“I know.” Tori’s silver Veilcord faded from her bare arms, coalescing into a chain whip in her outstretched hand. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Then she slashed the weapon toward Kalden, unleashing a storm of blade mana.