Scene 1 – The Iron Chamber

The door was massive, forged of plates so thick it looked like it had been carved from a mountain's heart. When Jemil and the swordmaster pushed it open, the hinges screamed, grinding against time itself. Beyond, the air shifted—thicker, heavier, every breath tinged with the tang of rust and old blood.

The chamber was a colossal circle of steel, stretching wider than any hall they had seen in the tower so far. The walls weren't smooth stone but layered iron, engraved with shifting runes. They pulsed faintly like veins, each throb echoing a heartbeat that wasn't theirs.

Above, the ceiling vanished into a darkness so deep it felt endless. From that void, hundreds of weapons hung suspended: longswords, sabers, spears, war-axes, halberds. They floated as though caught mid-swing, clashing into one another with unnatural precision. Every collision sent out sprays of sparks that fell like starlight, raining across the chamber floor.

The sound was deafening. Steel screamed against steel, the constant clamor like a battlefield frozen in eternal combat. The ground beneath them was littered with broken fragments—shattered blades, snapped hilts, splinters of iron that still bled faint light from the runes carved into them.

Jemil gritted his teeth, raising his arm against the sparks. "This place… it feels alive. Like it's watching us."

The swordmaster didn't answer. She stood stiff, her hand tightening on her blade. Her eyes traced the motions of the clashing weapons, her pupils narrowing as if she recognized their rhythm.

It wasn't just steel echoing. It was memory. Every strike sounded like an old duel, every clash like the ghosts of fights she had fought before. Jemil noticed the subtle tremor in her wrist—the way her body leaned unconsciously into the rhythm, as though her past were trying to drag her back into the fight.

The trial hadn't even begun, and already it was clawing at her scars.

Scene 2 – The Doppelgänger Appears

The chamber shuddered.

The weapons that clashed above began to slow, their rhythm faltering. One by one, they drifted down, their collisions softening until silence swallowed the room.

Then, with a sound like grinding stone, the blades twisted inward. They clashed, tangled, then fused into a single shape. Piece by piece, the storm of weapons formed a figure: armored in shadowed steel, its surface engraved with runes that bled light.

In its hand, a sword identical to hers.

Its stance mirrored hers perfectly. Its eyes—if they could be called that—burned with cold clarity, devoid of hesitation. It was her, stripped of doubt, guilt, or restraint. A perfect reflection of what she could have been if she had never faltered.

The whispers returned, louder than before:

"This is who you should have been."

"A blade without weakness."

"You will lose to her."

Jemil saw the way her breath hitched. For a warrior who lived by control, it was the smallest of cracks—but it told him everything. She wasn't just facing a trial. She was staring into the version of herself she feared most: the self that never forgave, never loved, never broke.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

Jemil stepped forward, his blade gleaming under the faint rune-light. His voice was steady, defiant. "Then we'll face her together."

The doppelgänger raised its sword. The sound of steel leaving its sheath rippled through the chamber like thunder.

Scene 3 – Blades Against Shadows

The battle began in an explosion of sparks.

The swordmaster lunged, her blade sweeping in a flawless strike. Her reflection mirrored the exact movement, their swords colliding with such force that the floor beneath them cracked. Sparks showered outward, lighting the chamber in frantic bursts.

Again and again they clashed—identical motions, perfect counters. It was like watching her fight a mirror that anticipated every strike before she made it.

Jemil darted forward to aid her, but the suspended weapons turned on him. Swords dropped from the air, spears hurled themselves toward his chest, daggers hissed like arrows. He barely raised his blade in time, spinning to deflect the storm.

He realized the chamber itself was enforcing the rules. This duel wasn't his to take. It was hers.

But that didn't mean he was powerless. Jemil gritted his teeth, deflecting the attacks aimed at her blind side, cutting down blades before they could strike her from behind. His role was clear: he was her shield, her second wind, the force that gave her room to stand.

Still, he could see her faltering. Each clash chipped away at her confidence. The doppelgänger's precision reminded her of the betrayals she had committed, the comrades she had cut down, the trust she had shattered.

And the whispers clawed deeper.

"You will always betray them."

"You will never be enough."

Every word made her blade heavier.

Scene 4 – Breaking Point

The duel surged into a crescendo. The doppelgänger feinted left, then twisted right in a blur of motion. Her defense faltered for just an instant—enough.

The shadow's blade raked across her shoulder. Blood spilled, warm and sharp against the cold iron air. She staggered back, her blade wavering.

Her reflection raised its weapon high for the killing blow.

For the briefest moment, Jemil saw it in her eyes: surrender. The weight of her past, the poison of the whispers, the belief that maybe this version of her was better—that she deserved to lose.

"No!" Jemil roared, his voice echoing like a thunderclap.

He forced his way through the storm of weapons, steel slashing across his arms and legs, blood hot against his skin. He didn't care. He wouldn't let her fall here.

He reached her just as the doppelgänger's blade descended. His sword met it in a clash so violent it shook the chamber walls. Sparks burst like stars, searing the air.

Jemil's voice cut through the whispers, raw and unyielding.

"You're not her mistakes! You're not her shadow! You're my wife—my blade—and I'll never let you forget that!"

The words struck harder than steel. For the first time, the whispers faltered.

The swordmaster froze—not in weakness, but in shock. Her walls cracked, her defenses shattered, and beneath it all was the raw truth she had tried to bury.

The doppelgänger's perfect stance wavered, its blade hesitating mid-air.

She saw it too.

With a roar that shook her to the marrow, the swordmaster surged forward, blade blazing with something no reflection could mimic—conviction born of choice, of love, of will. She struck true, cutting through the shadow.

The doppelgänger screamed—not with a voice, but with the shattering of steel—as its body fractured into countless shards of glowing iron. The fragments dissolved into mist, falling like ash.

Scene 5 – The Iron Oath

The silence that followed was deafening.

The floating weapons dropped all at once, clattering harmlessly onto the floor. The runes across the walls dimmed, leaving only a faint glow. The whispers, for the first time since they had entered the chamber, were gone.

From the center of the chamber, mist swirled and condensed into a pedestal of black steel. Upon it rested a single iron band, simple yet radiant, engraved with runes that pulsed softly like a heartbeat.

The tower's voice rumbled from the walls, deep as an earthquake:

"To ascend, she must swear. To bind her blade, bind her will. A vow unbroken, or chains eternal."

The swordmaster's chest heaved with ragged breaths, blood dripping down her arm. Her blade trembled in her grip—not from weakness, but from the storm of emotion raging inside her.

Her eyes found Jemil. His arms were torn from deflecting blades, his side bleeding from a deep cut, yet he stood tall, his gaze unwavering. He had stepped into her darkness without hesitation.

Slowly, she approached the pedestal. Her fingers hovered above the iron band, trembling.

When she spoke, her voice was low, unsteady, but steady in conviction:

"I swear—not to this tower. Not to fate. Not to shadows. To him. To Jemil. My blade, my strength, my life… bound to him, and him alone."

The iron band flared with light, slipping onto her finger of its own will. The glow surged outward, filling the chamber, and Jemil felt the weight of her words settle over him like a brand.

It wasn't just a vow. It was an oath.

The iron door at the far end of the chamber groaned and opened, revealing the path forward.

The tower had tried to break them with shadows and whispers. Instead, it had forged something unyielding.

An oath no steel could sever.

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 68: The Hunter in the Dark

The iron door sealed shut behind Jemil and the swordmaster, cutting off the last echoes of their vow. For a brief moment, silence stretched wide, heavy, and expectant. Then the new chamber revealed itself—not through light, but through sound.

The floor beneath their boots was uneven stone, slick with moisture. From somewhere unseen came the drip of water, slow and rhythmic, like the ticking of a clock. The air was colder here, thick with the scent of iron and wet fur.

The swordmaster tensed, every muscle in her body instinctively attuned. Her eyes flicked left, then right, as though she could feel the threads of killing intent stretching across the chamber like spiderwebs.

"Something's here," she whispered, her hand brushing the hilt of her blade.

Jemil felt it too. Not just the sensation of being watched, but of being measured. As if the dark itself had eyes, circling them, waiting for the moment their guard dropped.

A sound broke the stillness. Not claws on stone—breathing. Low, guttural, heavy. One breath became many, surrounding them in a circle too vast to count. The darkness wasn't empty. It was alive.

And then, a pair of eyes opened in the black. Not glowing like a beast's, but sharp, intelligent, and merciless.

The oath still burned in the swordmaster's chest, but she could already feel the weight of the trial pressing on her: this wasn't just about survival. This was about proving that her vow—to Jemil, to herself—would not break when hunted by something stronger, faster, and merciless.

Jemil raised his weapon, steady but wary. His voice was low, firm. "Stay close. Whatever's out there… it wants us to run."

A chuckle rolled through the dark—not human, not beast, but something in between.

The hunt had begun.

Call to Action (CTA)

The Iron Oath has been sworn, but now Jemil and the swordmaster step into a domain where predators rule and prey is broken. Surrounded by unseen hunters and a greater presence that stalks the dark, can their new bond endure the trial of pursuit—or will the oath be torn apart before it can be tested?

⚔️🔥 Chapter 68: The Hunter in the Dark — Coming Next! 🔥⚔️

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.