Overlord: Sword of the Forgotten Demon

Chapter 8: The Arena Of Betrayal



The Valisport Arena pulsed with anticipation. Torchlight danced upon scarred stone walls, and the roar of a hungry crowd filled the night air. In the center of the sandy pit stood Carlos—wounded by betrayal, yet determined—and across from him, Alera the Crimson Fang, whose eyes burned with a merciless hunger for victory.

Carlos tightened his grip on Kilineiram's hilt, desperately seeking the dark power that had once flowed so freely through them. Instead, he found only a cold, distant silence. In the depths of his mind, Kilineiram's voice had grown harsh and unyielding:

*"I have no power for you tonight. My might is promised elsewhere."*

Alera's lips curved into a cruel smile as she stepped forward.

*"Fight, boy. Prove that you can survive without the demon's gift."*

With no strength left to cling to, Carlos advanced, his strikes sluggish and uncoordinated. Alera moved like a force of nature, her twin blades a blur as she cut through the air. Each counter left Carlos more exposed, every parry a reminder of his failing strength. The cheers of the crowd thundered around him as he staggered under the relentless assault.

Desperation overtook him. In a final, desperate bid, Carlos lunged forward, hoping to rally the vestiges of the bond they once shared. But before he could land a blow, Alera met him with a brutal counter. Kilineiram's dark power surged—not to empower Carlos, but to serve his new master.

In a moment that shattered what remained of Carlos's hope, Alera's blade, now infused with Kilineiram's might, found its mark. It sliced through Carlos's defenses, and as he crumpled to the arena floor, a stunned silence fell over the crowd.

For a long, agonizing heartbeat, Carlos felt the indifference of Kilineiram. Then, with one final, shuddering breath, he fell silent.

---

#### **The Final Act: Essence Absorption**

As Carlos's lifeless form lay sprawled on the bloodstained sand, the arena's roar faded into an eerie hush. Alera stepped forward, her crimson eyes glistening with triumph and something darker—avarice. Kilineiram pulsed in her hand, a reservoir of latent power now directed solely by his new master.

A system notification shimmered in the recesses of Kilineiram's mind, a silent confirmation of the transfer:

[Essence Absorbed]

[Target: Carlos]

[Amount: Substantial]

[Note: Wielder essence integrated; sacrifice complete.]

In that instant, Alera raised her twin blades, now joined by Kilineiram's dark energy. The combined power surged outward in a swirling vortex of corrupted essence. Sparks of dark light danced across the arena floor as tendrils of energy reached into Carlos's fallen form, drawing forth the life force, the accumulated hopes, and the sorrow of every sparing he had ever shown.

The very air seemed to tremble as essence flowed from the defeated boy into the blade.

The crowd, once bloodthirsty in its cheers, fell silent as they bore witness to this unholy transformation. Alera's aura expanded, the dark energies weaving around her like a living shroud. In that brutal moment, the promise of raw, unfiltered strength was realized—and the cost was written in the blood of a compassionate warrior.

---

#### **Aftermath**

As the vortex of stolen essence subsided, Alera stood alone in the center of the arena, her eyes alight with a feral triumph. Kilineiram now sang a new song—one of power and betrayal. The blade's ancient hunger had been sated, at least for now, by the life force of a wielder whose kindness had proven a liability.

In the cold silence that followed, the system confirmed the final transfer:

[Wielder Transfer Complete]

[New Wielder: Alera the Crimson Fang]

[Compatibility: 42%]

[Essence Absorbed: Carlos's Wielder Essence integrated.]

The arena slowly erupted into chaotic murmurs and awed whispers. Among the crowd, some celebrated, while others recoiled from the cruelty of it all. But none could deny the dark promise that now emanated from Alera and Kilineiram—a power forged in betrayal, steeped in the blood of mercy sacrificed.

And as the night deepened, Alera's victorious form strode from the arena, the demon within the blade now fully her own, leaving behind the echo of a tragic warning: In a world ruled by power, mercy is a luxury no one can afford.


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