ONLINE: Blades of Eternity-Chapter 319: A BOTTLENECK

The night sky above the Deadroot’s far edge was black and blistered with stars, yet down in the hollowed earth where Kaelen and Kelvin sat cross-legged inside a crude circle of spirit-forged stone, the only light came from the faint, eerie glimmer rising from the pulsating formation beneath them—the Third Qi Juggernaut: Ghost of the Vein.

Their breath steamed in the cool air, torsos bare and slick with sweat, limbs shaking from exertion. Their skin was marked with Qi scars—burnt calligraphy across their arms and backs, carved from pain, trial, and will.

The Ghost of the Vein wasn’t like the other two. The First Juggernaut—Root of the Earth—was pure agony, a test of body through which they’d clawed their way with gritted teeth and fire-filled blood. The Second Juggernaut—Pulse of the Hollow—was the mastery of movement and grounding, of pressure against pain while in sync with some complex breathing techniques.

But the Third...

It was intangible.

It whispered.

It was a ghost that lived in their veins and asked a question neither of them understood—"Can you separate your mind from your flow?"

Again and again, they tried.

They activated their inner threads, meditated at the eye of the formation. They starved their senses, suffocated their thoughts, even forcibly shut down their mana and Qi flows entirely.

Each attempt ended the same.

Collapse.

Kaelen’s body would seize in place, his limbs locking up in paralyzing feedback. Kelvin would lose track of reality altogether, convulsing in place until Eirana had to strike key acupoints to pull him back.

And yet they continued. For hours. Then a day. Then nearly two.

Until—finally—Eirana stepped in.

"Enough."

Her voice snapped like lightning through the stone chamber, her booted steps echoing across the hollowed vault as she stepped into the center of the training ring.

Kaelen groaned, trying to rise, but the moment he shifted, blood spilled from his nostrils. Kelvin had already passed out, his chest rising and falling faintly.

"You’re both at the edge," she said, not unkindly, but firmly. "You’re not going to break through the Ghost tonight. Or tomorrow. Or maybe even next week."

Kaelen slowly turned his head toward her, frustration etched deep into his brow. "But we’re close. I can feel something just past the veil..."

"You’re not wrong," Eirana replied, kneeling beside him. She placed her palm on his wrist—not to check his pulse, but to feel his Qi. "But your foundations are still raw. You’re forcing a river through a pipe barely wide enough to handle a stream."

She turned to Kelvin. "And he’s worse off. His mind was just about to split from his body permanently."

Kaelen clenched his fist. "If we stop now, we’ll lose the momentum—"

"You’ve already gained more than I ever expected," Eirana interrupted, rising to her full height, her expression distant yet resolute.

"You two are not of the mists. You are not born of root and Qi. You’re mana-wielding outsiders who shouldn’t even have made it past the first Juggernaut."

She looked them both in the eyes, arms folded.

"But you did."

Kaelen blinked.

Kelvin stirred weakly, muttering, "...What are you saying?"

Eirana exhaled slowly, her voice quiet now. "The first two Juggernauts... Root of the Earth and Pulse of the Hollow... alone are enough to turn the tide. Enough to protect my people. Enough to fight back against the Mistborn."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "And we need to go. Now."

Kaelen straightened up, eyes narrowing. "You mean—?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "We’re going home."

There was silence for a moment, heavy and filled with questions neither dared voice. Then Kelvin, pale but determined, sat upright and gave a nod.

"...Then let’s make it count."

Eirana turned, her cloak billowing behind her as she led them out of the chamber. Her steps were brisk, and her back was held high.

They had climbed to the edge of death, stared into the ghost of Qi, and though it eluded them—for now—it had lit a fire within.

The path ahead was clear.

The training was over.

Now it was time to fight.

Meanwhile, The border between the lush, orderly lands of the Elves and the chaotic, fog-wreathed edges of the Deadroot Forest was a jagged transition where polished elegance met primal wilderness. Towering trees loomed like ancient sentinels at the forest’s edge, shrouded in thick grey mist. On the Elven side, light shimmered off immaculate ivory towers and orderly outposts, each guarded by silver-armored patrols with glowing green crests on their pauldrons.

Morris, Lila, Guinevere, and Ethan crouched low behind the fallen trunk of a gnarled tree on a nearby hillside, just out of the guards’ line of sight. Below them, Elven soldiers moved in tight formations, their weapons humming with mana. There was no mistaking the alertness in their postures—they were hunting.

"...They’ve definitely locked this place down," Guinevere muttered, her fiery red eyes narrowed, scanning the perimeter.

Lila, standing beside her, clenched her fists. Her cloak fluttered in the wind, her face stormy with the same aura of dominance that had gotten them in this mess. "I say we rip through the patrol and force our way through. By the time they realize what happened, we’ll be long inside Deadroot."

Morris gave her a skeptical look. "That’s exactly how you made us wanted fugitives in the first place."

Lila turned on him. "You want to crawl on our bellies like worms while Kaelen might be dying in there?"

"Actually," Guinevere cut in sharply, raising a hand, "we don’t need to crawl—we just need to ghost in."

She turned her calm gaze toward Ethan, who was sitting cross-legged in the shadow of the trunk, sharpening a dagger with quiet precision.

"Ethan," she said, "you’ve been too quiet."

Ethan looked up, shadows dancing beneath the brim of his hooded cowl. "Just thinking. I can try something." freёwebnoѵel.com

Lila raised a brow. "Try what?"

He smirked faintly, already rising. "The mists are thicker by the east ridge, and the soldiers are less dense there. I can blend with them and look for a path. If we’re lucky, they’ve left an opening in the wards for regular Elven travelers or trade caravans."

Morris looked uneasy. "You’ll be alone."

"I won’t be gone long." Ethan gave them all a nod before raising a hand, mist slowly curling around his body. "Don’t move. Don’t attract attention. I’ll find the shadows that they miss."

And just like that, he was gone—his body dissipating like a breeze into the haze.

---

Ten Minutes Later...

A soft rustle signaled Ethan’s return. The mists thickened around the tree before parting to reveal his silhouette. He knelt and tapped Guinevere’s shoulder, whispering just loud enough for the group to hear.

"There’s a hidden maintenance path that cuts beneath one of the old ward lines. It’s narrow and forgotten—probably used by herbalists or low-tier hunters. No wards, but we’ll need to crawl and stay dead silent."

Lila frowned, disappointed. "You’re sure it’s not a trap?"

"I saw no trip glyphs, no light runes, and the patrols don’t even glance that way," Ethan replied coolly. "Besides, you wanted subtlety, didn’t you?"

Morris grinned. "I like this plan. Let’s move."

Guinevere was already pulling her hood tighter over her head. "Then let’s not waste another second."

Lila growled under her breath but followed without further protest, her light brown eyes darting around with sharp focus.

They moved like phantoms through the dense underbrush, following Ethan’s lead. The wind stirred the trees, the guards far below none the wiser to the four figures slipping beyond their reach—into the foggy teeth of the Deadroot itself.

Whatever waited in that forest, Kaelen and Kelvin were in the heart of it—and now, so were the others.

But unbeknownst to them, just as Morris, Guinevere, Lila, and Ethan disappeared into the crawlspace beneath the old ward line, the forest behind them shifted ever so slightly.

A slight giggle rang through the air—soft, echoing like a child’s whisper through leaves—and then silence again.

Perched upon the skeletal branches of a twisted alder tree, two figures crouched like predators. The girl—Selene—tilted her head as her silver-dark hair cascaded in wild curls over her shoulders. Her eyes glowed with unnatural luminescence, their irises swirling with chaotic black and white colors like fractured gemstones.

Beside her stood Aron, taller, broader, with hair as dark as midnight and eyes like broken moons—pale and unreadable. A chain of blackened steel was looped loosely around his bare arm, glowing faintly as it responded to the presence of chaos energy nearby.

"Well, well..." Selene whispered with a crooked smile, watching the last of Lila’s crimson cloak vanish beneath the ridge. "Isn’t this just lovely? We didn’t even have to search."

Aron’s gaze didn’t shift from the direction the four went. "You see it too, don’t you?"

She nodded. "They’re heading straight for the Deadroot. And Kaelen... oh, he’s definitely in there. I can smell it on them."

Aron’s hand flexed, and the chain rattled like a serpent. "Then our fun begins soon."

Selene spun a small black dagger around her finger absentmindedly, eyes dancing. "And here I thought the Elves would make it harder. But no... dear little Lila had to go flaunt her power. It’s almost like they wanted us to find him."

Aron finally turned to look at her. "What’s the plan?"

She tapped her lips. "We let them guide us for now. They’ll lead us to Kaelen. And once he’s exposed..."

"...We take both Kaelen and the Pandora," Aron finished with a calm cruelty.

Selene twirled gleefully. "And burn the rest of them to ash and chaos."

Without another word, they dissolved into shadows—no ripple, no flare—just two twisted echoes of movement vanishing into the fog as they trailed Morris and the others like predators in a long, wicked hunt.

The Chaos Twins had entered the game.

And Kaelen’s journey in Deadroot was about to grow far darker.

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