The Vampire Summoner: Lord of Shadows

Chapter 19: Duel of Shadows

The crowd's energy was palpable as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the arena in the glow of flickering torchlight. Shadows danced along the ancient stone walls, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. This was what the people of Shadowhaven lived for—a clash of titans, a spectacle of strength and resolve.

Draven stood in the center of the pit, his crimson eyes scanning the arena. Across from him, his opponent emerged from the shadows. The crowd fell silent for a moment as the figure stepped into the light.

It was a man clad in black armor, the edges glowing faintly with runes of protection and enhancement. His face was concealed by a helm with a jagged visor, and he carried a massive glaive, its blade etched with sigils that pulsed with deadly energy.

The announcer's voice rang out, echoing over the arena. "For the final round, we bring you a battle that will go down in Shadowhaven's history! Draven, the newcomer with the power of the abyss, faces Korrath, the reigning champion of the pit! Only one will leave this arena standing!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, chants of "Korrath!" mingling with murmurs of curiosity about Draven's abilities.

Korrath slammed the base of his glaive into the ground, the impact sending a shockwave through the arena. "You're bold to come here, outsider," he growled, his voice reverberating with power. "But this is where your journey ends."

Draven didn't flinch. His shadows coiled around him like living armor, and he smirked faintly. "We'll see."

The gong sounded, and the duel began.

Korrath moved with surprising speed for his size, his glaive cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Draven sidestepped, his shadows absorbing the residual energy of the strike. He retaliated with a surge of dark tendrils aimed at Korrath's exposed side.

The champion deflected the attack with the haft of his glaive, the runes on his armor flaring to life. "You'll have to do better than that!" he roared, pressing the offensive.

Draven dodged and weaved, his movements fluid as he analyzed Korrath's patterns. Each strike from the glaive left cracks in the ground, the raw power behind it undeniable. But Draven wasn't fazed. He was waiting for the right moment.

"Come on, Draven!" Selene shouted from the sidelines, her fists clenched.

Aria stood beside her, her expression calm but watchful. "He's testing Korrath. Looking for a weakness."

As the duel raged on, Draven began to shift his strategy. Instead of dodging, he started parrying Korrath's attacks with his shadows, the impact sending ripples of energy through the arena. With each clash, he siphoned a small amount of energy from the runes on Korrath's armor, weakening them bit by bit.

Korrath didn't notice at first, too focused on overwhelming Draven with brute force. But as the fight continued, he started to slow, his movements less precise.

"What's wrong?" Draven taunted, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. "Losing your edge?"

Korrath snarled, swinging his glaive in a wide arc. Draven ducked under the attack and countered with a concentrated burst of shadow energy, striking the champion's chest. The runes on his armor flickered, then dimmed.

The crowd gasped as Korrath staggered, his once-impenetrable defenses failing.

Draven seized the opportunity, his shadows surging forward like a tidal wave. They wrapped around Korrath, binding his arms and legs. The champion struggled, but the more he fought, the tighter the shadows held him.

"It's over," Draven said, his voice calm but firm.

Korrath glared at him, his pride refusing to let him yield. "Finish it," he spat.

Draven hesitated for a moment. The crowd was chanting his name now, their bloodlust fueling the atmosphere. But he didn't want to kill Korrath—not unless it was absolutely necessary.

Instead, he tightened the shadows until the champion dropped his glaive and fell to his knees. Then, with a wave of his hand, Draven released him.

The arena fell silent, the crowd holding their breath.

Draven turned to the announcer. "He's beaten. The match is mine."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the announcer raised his hand and declared, "Victory goes to Draven!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their excitement shaking the very ground.

Korrath looked up at Draven, his expression unreadable behind his helmet. "You're strong," he said quietly. "Stronger than anyone I've faced. I'll fight for you."

Draven nodded, extending a hand to help him up. "Good. We'll need warriors like you for what's coming."

As they left the arena, the Broker awaited them at the edge of the pit, his porcelain mask glinting in the firelight.

"You've proven yourself, Draven," he said, his voice smooth. "Shadowhaven stands behind you. But know this—the Sovereigns won't be as easy to impress."

Draven met the Broker's gaze, his crimson eyes burning with determination. "Let them come. I'll show them what true power looks like."