Chapter 9: The Sentinel’s Lesson

A heavy stillness filled the air.

Adrian exhaled, steadying his heartbeat. His body still ached from the previous battle, but his grip on the Eclipse Blade remained firm. The Nightmare Realm offered no time for recovery, no moment of peace—only an endless shift from one terror to another.

Yet this time, the threat was different.

He could feel it.

Not a mindless beast. Not a lurking wraith.

A warrior.

Adrian's fingers tightened around his sword as his mind drifted—to the lessons of his father, the memories of patient correction and relentless drills.

"A blade is more than a weapon, Adrian. It is an extension of your will. A master does not react. A master dictates the flow of battle."

The words echoed in his mind as he took another cautious step forward.

Then—

A whisper of steel.

Adrian barely had time to raise his sword before a blade struck down—a brutal, disciplined strike that carried no hesitation.

He twisted to the side, the weapon cleaving into the earth where he had stood a moment before. Dust scattered, the impact leaving a deep, precise scar in the stone.

Adrian's breath came slow, measured. His heart pounded.

Before him stood a lone figure.

A warrior clad in fractured blackened armor, the plate worn with age and battle scars. A tattered crimson cloak hung from its back, shifting slightly in the cold wind.

But it was the lack of a face beneath the broken helm that unsettled him the most.

Beneath the darkness of its visor, there was nothing but shadow.

Yet, it watched him.

Its sword—a greatsword, ancient yet pristine—rose again.

There was no hesitation. No anger.

Only purpose.

Adrian recognized it now.

This was not just an enemy.

This was a Sentinel. A guardian bound to its duty, even in death.

And it had decided that Adrian was an intruder.

The Sentinel moved.

Faster than anything Adrian had seen.

The blade descended.

He barely managed to parry in time—

And the impact nearly shattered his arms.

The force sent him skidding backward across the rough stone, boots scraping for purchase. His muscles screamed in protest. The Sentinel did not slow.

Its next attack followed seamlessly—no wasted motion, no hesitation.

Adrian barely rolled to the side in time as the greatsword crashed into the ground, shattering the stone beneath it.

It wasn't just powerful.

It was disciplined. Calculated.

There was a rhythm to its attacks, a flow that reminded him of the swordsmen in his father's teachings. Unlike the chaotic, feral aggression of the Nightmare Realm's beasts, the Sentinel's movements were practiced.

A warrior honed through centuries of battle.

Adrian clenched his jaw. He was still learning, still remembering all the training he had just for the awakening.

Then I'll learn faster.

The Sentinel lunged.

Adrian sidestepped, but not fully—he let the blade scrape just past him, close enough to feel the wind but not the steel.

He was observing.

Analyzing.

Every motion was precise. But there was a pattern. A slight opening in its repositioning after each strike.

Adrian's mind raced.

He had seen similar techniques before—from his father's lessons, from the echoes of past wielders whispering through the Eclipse Blade.

This wasn't just an enemy.

This was an instructor.

The Sentinel struck again. Adrian adjusted—not evading, but anticipating.

And then, he moved.

For the first time, he didn't just react.

He dictated.

His blade cut through the air—a sharp, clean slash aimed at the Sentinel's side.

The strike landed.

A faint glimmer sparked across the ancient armor, and the Sentinel staggered back. Not much. But enough.

Adrian inhaled, steadying his pulse.

The battle was no longer just survival.

It was a lesson.

And he was learning.

The Sentinel recovered, its sword rising once more.

Adrian exhaled, grip tightening on the Eclipse Blade.

This time, he was ready.

Ready to learn and improve.