Unmade Chapter 27: Chapter 27: battle styles

Read chapter 27 of Unmade by churro on NovelPedia.

Beneath the five black suns of a vast realm drowned in blood and violence, Vale sat cross-legged on the shifting surface of the crimson sea. His posture was steady, almost meditative, as he diligently flipped through the pages of yet another ancient tome. All around him, towers of books rose like uneven monuments, thousands of them, all already read, studied, absorbed. Beside those piles rested a reptilian creature. Though still young, it had grown significantly, now reaching almost to Vale’s waist at the shoulder. Its body was supported by two powerful, muscular hind legs, while the two smaller front limbs moved with quick, precise agility. Jagged teeth jutted from its mouth at odd angles, and its scales shimmered a celestial white, reflecting every faint shimmer of the five black suns above. Most striking of all were its eyes, constantly shifting in color, never settling, like a storm trapped behind glass. This creature was Ember, still far from fully grown, yet already formidable. Before them, the chained man lounged upon his crimson throne, one arm resting lazily against the blood-red surface. A novel hovered in his hand, one he had casually summoned to keep himself entertained. The obsidian mask covering his face revealed nothing, not a single flicker of emotion, though boredom radiated from him as clearly as heat from a forge. Eventually, his gaze drifted from his book to Vale, who was turning the pages of a particularly thick volume with solemn focus. Minutes passed, perhaps hours, before Vale finally stopped. His eyes lingered on a page depicting a weapon: a chain-sword, intricately designed, each mechanical detail illustrated with precision. Vale stared at the image, blank-faced but intensely focused. At last, he gently set the book aside and reached into the crimson sea, retrieving a small bone-like knife. “All right… let’s try this,” he murmured, his voice flat but carrying a quiet, razor-sharp determination. He closed his eyes. His arm extended forward, holding the knife straight out before him. Every corner of his mind locked onto a single task: imagine the weapon perfectly. Every link in the chain, each serrated edge, the weight, the balance, the way it would coil and unfurl like a venomous serpent. Every detail had to be flawless. Transformation demanded precision, absolute, unforgiving precision. And this time… It worked. A blinding white light engulfed the bone knife, stretching, spiraling, reshaping. Metal groaned without sound. Segments formed, linked to one another like the vertebrae of a steel beast. When the light died, a massive chain-blade rested in Vale’s hand, its form elegant yet terrifying, each segment capable of detaching to become a storm of flying knives. Vale opened his eyes. He swung the weapon experimentally. The links rattled like metallic thunder as the blade danced across the surface of the blood-sea, carving ripples into its surface. Ember watched silently, tail curled around its legs, while the chained man’s masked gaze followed every motion. Then the chain-blade flashed white once more, and shifted into a chained morningstar. Vale pulled the chain sharply, reeling the weapon through the air. Just before it reached him, it lit up again. This time, he held a mighty trident, its three points sharp enough to part the crimson sea itself. Vale lowered it to the water, lightly tapping the surface. Concentric ripples spread outward in perfect circles. Only then did he exhale, shoulders relaxing as pride softened his expression. “Well… it took a while,” he muttered, “but I finally managed to do it mid-combat.” He’d died countless times perfecting this skill. He had read hundreds of books, history, linguistics, sciences, combat arts. He reforged his body through death after death until it became a weapon of its own. His muscles were compact, dense, powerful enough to slow a knife strike to a crawl. His black armor clung to him like a second skin, built for speed, for precision, for war. He had re