Chapter 5: Secrets Unraveled
Liang's eyes narrowed as he watched Wen's hands trace intricate symbols in the air, the faint shimmer of Runic Invocation Arts illuminating the space around him. His disbelief deepened as Wen's energy flared, distorting the very air around them. This wasn't just a display of martial prowess—this was something far more dangerous, something unknown.
Wen's expression remained eerily calm, though his eyes told a different story. They flickered with an intensity, a desperation that Liang hadn't noticed before. The air was thick with tension, and despite the distance between them, it felt like the world itself was closing in.
Runic Invocation Arts.
Liang's breath hitched. He had heard stories—whispers, really—about such powers, but he had never seen anyone use them. The elders had mentioned Runeseekers in passing, but they spoke of them like relics from an ancient time, nearly forgotten in the modern world of martial arts. Yet here was Wen, a junior disciple of the Celestial Blade Sect, invoking powers that no one in the sect should even have access to.
How could this be?
His grip tightened around his blade as he recalled everything he knew about Runeseekers—those rare individuals capable of wielding magic through runes. But Runeseekers were practically legends, scattered across the world, their arts fading into obscurity. To see one here, within the walls of the Celestial Blade Sect, was unnerving.
Wen's movements became faster, more erratic, as if the power he was summoning was taking control of him. The energy he was invoking now crackled in the air like lightning, and a low hum began to resonate throughout the training grounds. Every fiber of Liang's being screamed danger.
Liang adjusted his stance, circling cautiously, his mind racing to piece together what was happening. The Celestial Blade Sect prided itself on its sword techniques, its mastery of martial arts. Magic was something otherworldly, something uncontrollable and dangerous. But now, seeing Wen, Liang understood that this went far beyond just a fight for power.
There was a darkness attached to Wen's actions—something more insidious than mere ambition.
Liang raised his sword, focusing his energy. He could feel Wen's arcane power pressing against him, suffocating and chaotic. It was as if the very ground beneath them was reacting to Wen's unstable control of the invocation arts. It was a power that didn't belong in the hands of someone like Wen. And yet, here they were.
"Wen!" Liang called out, his voice sharp as his blade. "Where did you learn this? These are not the arts of our sect."
Wen's face twisted into a snarl, his once calm demeanor crumbling. "Does it matter?!" His voice was harsh, almost broken. "You… all of you… you made me feel like I was nothing. I had to find a way. I had to!"
His words were drenched in bitterness, the humiliation from their last encounter clearly still fresh in his mind. Liang's chest tightened as he realized just how deeply Wen's defeat had affected him. It had driven him to the edge, forcing him to tap into powers he couldn't possibly control.
Liang had no more time to think, though. Wen's hand shot forward, and from his fingertips erupted crackling chains of arcane energy, snaking toward Liang like serpents. Liang dodged the first, slicing through the second with his blade, but the third wrapped around his arm with a vice-like grip.
The energy burned.
Liang gritted his teeth as he pulled back, using every ounce of his strength to break free of the bonds. The chains shattered, but they left behind a lingering sensation, a coldness that gnawed at him. This wasn't just magic. It was something worse, something corrupt.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he repositioned himself, catching his breath. Wen had already raised his arms again, calling forth another wave of attacks. But Liang wouldn't be caught off guard a second time.
He centered himself, drawing from the depths of his training. His body moved instinctively, a blur of calculated motion as he employed the Skyward Flow Technique, one of the foundational skills of the Celestial Blade Sect. The Skyward Flow allowed him to move as if guided by the wind itself, his speed and fluidity unmatched.
Wen's strikes came faster now, infused with raw power. But Liang was faster. He dodged and deflected with expert precision, each movement purposeful, each counter bringing him closer to Wen. But with every step, it became clearer—this wasn't a simple fight. It was a clash of ideologies, a battle between order and chaos.
Wen's frustration grew. His attacks, while powerful, were losing their focus, becoming more erratic. Liang could feel it—the desperation in Wen's movements. It wasn't just about power anymore. Wen was losing control.
The two collided again, their blades sparking as they met in a fierce clash. But as their weapons locked, Wen's lips curled into a wicked grin. "You don't get it, do you, Liang? This is only the beginning."
Liang pushed back, breaking their deadlock, but Wen was relentless. He began chanting, his voice low and guttural, and the air around them shifted once more. This time, the energy Wen summoned was darker, heavier. The ground beneath them trembled as Wen's hands moved faster, the symbols he was inscribing glowing with a sickly light.
Liang's heart pounded in his chest. The Arcane Blight—he could feel it now. This wasn't just Runic Invocation. Wen had tapped into something far more dangerous, something that was corrupting him from the inside out.
Wen's body seemed to pulse with the dark energy, his eyes glowing faintly as the transformation took hold. His skin was pale, his veins darkened with the blight. Liang could see it clearly now—Wen wasn't just using magic. He was being consumed by it.
"You're turning into one of them," Liang said, his voice tight with dread.
Wen's laughter was cold, almost inhuman. "I don't care. As long as I become strong enough, none of this matters. Not you, not the sect, nothing!"
Liang's breath came in shallow gasps. He needed to end this—quickly. The longer Wen remained under the influence of the Arcane Blight, the less of him there would be to save. But even as he steeled himself for the next attack, a gnawing fear crept into his heart. Could Wen even be saved?
Liang's chest heaved as he gasped for air, his feet digging into the loose dirt beneath him. Every muscle screamed in protest, but he refused to let his body falter. The swirling darkness around Wen had only grown more oppressive, filling the clearing with an aura of dread. The once serene training grounds now resembled the aftermath of a storm, the earth cracked and scorched by the force of Wen's power.
Wen stood a few paces away, his frame shuddering as dark tendrils of energy coiled around him, pulsating with the rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were glazed over with a mix of insanity and desperation, locking onto Liang with a gaze that felt as though it could pierce his very soul. His breaths were erratic, almost animalistic, like a predator savoring the moment before its final strike.
Liang wiped the blood from his brow, feeling the sticky warmth run down his hand. His sword felt heavier with each passing second, but his mind raced for a solution. The blade had never failed him before, but against the arcane forces Wen was wielding, it seemed… insufficient. Wen had become more than just an opponent—he was a walking disaster, an unchained force of magic that Liang could barely comprehend, let alone match.
"Come on, Liang!" Wen's voice broke through the silence, his tone mocking and sharp. "Where's the mighty swordsmanship of the Celestial Blade Sect now? Where's that arrogance you all wear like armor?"
Liang's jaw clenched. Wen's words were laced with venom, but they were also a reflection of his own insecurity. Wen had been a fellow disciple once, always striving to prove himself, always seeking the validation that seemed just out of reach. And now, it seemed that desperation had led him down a path from which there was no return.
"Don't you see, Wen?" Liang spoke, keeping his tone measured despite the exhaustion creeping into his body. "This power… it's not your own. It's something else. It's corrupting you."
Wen let out a laugh—a hollow, bitter sound. "You think I care about corruption? I care about power! The kind of power that none of you would ever let me have. The kind of power that will finally make me someone!"
The ground beneath Wen trembled, cracks spiderwebbing outward from where he stood, as if the very earth was responding to his growing instability. The air was thick with the smell of burning ozone, and every breath Liang took felt like it was laden with the weight of Wen's overwhelming presence.
Liang could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he considered his options. Rushing in blindly would only lead to disaster; Wen's unpredictable attacks and the dark energy swirling around him were too dangerous. He needed to find a way to close the distance and neutralize Wen's advantage, but how? He knew nothing of magic—certainly not the kind Wen was wielding.
Then, an idea began to form in his mind. If Wen's power was this unstable, perhaps it was just as dangerous to Wen as it was to everyone else. If Liang could provoke him, force him to use more of that energy, it might overwhelm Wen's control. But there was no guarantee it would work, and if it didn't, Liang might be signing his own death warrant.
But there were no other options.
Wen raised his hand again, and the runes etched in the air glowed brighter. A wave of dark energy surged toward Liang, tendrils spiraling through the air like venomous snakes. Liang narrowed his eyes and leaped to the side, rolling across the ground to avoid the attack. The energy struck where he had been standing moments before, sending chunks of earth flying into the air.
Liang scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged but focused. He needed to keep Wen on the defensive, to force him into overextending. He steadied his blade, his feet shifting into a ready stance.
"You always talked about wanting to surpass the rest of us, Wen," Liang said, his voice loud enough to cut through the growing hum of magic. "But look at you now. You've become something no one in the Celestial Blade Sect would even recognize. Is this what you wanted? To become a monster?"
Wen's face twisted in fury, his teeth bared in a snarl. "You dare…!"
He lashed out, flinging another barrage of energy toward Liang. This time, the attack came faster, more erratic, as if Wen's control over the magic was slipping. Liang darted to the side again, narrowly avoiding the attack as it scorched the ground in a violent burst of light.
"You're not stronger," Liang continued, each word deliberate, as he tried to prod at Wen's fragile psyche. "You're just desperate. Desperate to be more than you are. But you've already lost yourself."
Wen's breathing grew heavier, his fists clenched tightly. The tendrils of dark magic around him flickered, their movements growing more chaotic with every passing second. Wen raised both hands this time, summoning a larger mass of energy, one that crackled with raw power.
"I'll show you what it means to have true power!" Wen roared.
Liang felt the tension in the air shift as Wen gathered the magic into a swirling vortex above him. The runes were etched faster now, with an almost frantic intensity. It was clear that Wen was pouring everything he had into this next attack.
Liang braced himself, tightening his grip on his sword. He could feel the ground beneath him begin to rumble as the energy built to a crescendo. There was no running from this—he would have to meet it head-on.
With a cry, Wen released the vortex, sending it hurtling toward Liang. The sheer force of the attack was unlike anything Liang had ever seen, a storm of energy that seemed capable of swallowing everything in its path.
Time seemed to slow as the energy closed in. Liang's eyes sharpened, his body moving instinctively. He shifted his stance, raising his sword high as he prepared to deflect the oncoming assault. He knew there was no way he could stop it entirely, but if he could just divert it, even by a fraction…
The energy struck.
Liang's sword met the attack with a deafening clash, the impact sending a shockwave through his entire body. His feet dug into the ground, the force of the magic pushing him back as he struggled to hold his ground. The blade trembled in his hands, but he refused to let go, pouring every ounce of strength into holding the line.
For a moment, it felt as if the world had come to a standstill—the sound of the clash ringing in Liang's ears as he fought against the overwhelming power. His arms screamed in protest, but he grit his teeth and pushed back, inch by inch.
Then, with a final surge of effort, Liang deflected the energy to the side. The vortex veered off course, crashing into the ground a few paces away and exploding in a violent burst of light and sound. The ground shook, and a cloud of dust rose into the air, obscuring everything from view.
Liang staggered back, his arms burning from the strain. He could barely see through the haze, but he knew the fight wasn't over yet. Wen's power was immense, but Liang had bought himself a moment—a brief window to counter.
Wen's voice echoed from within the dust cloud, a guttural sound filled with frustration and rage. "You can't… you won't stop me!"
Liang's eyes narrowed. He couldn't afford to let Wen regain the upper hand. He took a deep breath and charged forward, his sword slicing through the dust as he aimed for Wen's silhouette.
But before he could close the distance, something strange caught his attention.
A sound—faint but unmistakable.
Footsteps.
Liang's momentum faltered as he registered the noise. It was coming from the direction of the sect's dormitories, steady and measured, as if someone was approaching the training grounds.
His heart skipped a beat. Was it a disciple? A sect elder? No, the footsteps were too light for an elder…
Jian.
Liang's eyes widened in realization. He could feel the faint ripple of Jian's presence nearby, the junior disciple no doubt on his way for his nightly training session. If Jian arrived now, in the midst of this chaos…
Liang's grip tightened on his sword. He had to finish this before Jian got involved. This fight wasn't meant for him.
The dust began to settle, and Wen's figure slowly came into view, his body still crackling with dark energy. Liang took a step forward, determination burning in his eyes.
But before he could act, the sound of the footsteps grew louder.
Jian was getting closer.
As jian got closer..he felt something..and he hears something in the training grounds
Jian frowned, his instincts immediately on high alert. Something was happening—a commotion. But he couldn't see it. He could only hear the distant clashing of metal and the hum of energy that crackled in the air.
For a moment, he hesitated, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapon. But instead of moving forward, he stood frozen, trying to make sense of what was happening beyond the shadows.