The world was ending, but Alpha refused to fall with it.
Blood dripped from his fingers, sluggish and thick. His, mostly. Not enough to kill him. Yet.
The battlefield stretched before him, a graveyard of stone and steel. Once, this had been a city. Now, it was nothing but splintered ruins, corpses, and smoke. Fires smoldered in the wreckage, their embers rising into the sky like fireflies mourning the dead.
The air reeked of burnt flesh, and the sky itself had darkened, as if the heavens wanted no part in what was happening here.
He exhaled. Steady. His muscles burned. His lungs ached. But he forced himself to stand.
His sword was barely a sword anymore. A cracked blade, dull-edged, stained dark. A weapon held together by sheer stubbornness and bad decisions.
It wouldn't last another strike.
Neither would he.
A figure stepped forward through the haze, wreathed in flickering light. Their armor gleamed like polished obsidian, runes shifting across its surface in an unnatural rhythm. Magic bled from them in slow, suffocating waves, pressing against his skin like an invisible vice.
"You should be dead," the figure murmured. Smooth voice. Almost amused. "You were dead."
Alpha planted his feet. His body screamed in protest, but pain was good. Pain meant he was still here.
"You're not the first to say that today," he muttered. "Starting to think it might be true."
The enemy tilted their head slightly, as if observing an insect that refused to die. Then they sighed. Slowly, almost lazily, they raised their weapon, a curved blade of black steel, its edge flickering with silent fire.
"So be it."
The world blurred.
Alpha barely had time to react before the first strike came. He blocked, but his sword was a ruined thing, and the impact rattled up his arms like a sledgehammer meeting glass. Sparks flew as metal shrieked against metal.
Then came the second strike. Faster. He parried, but barely. His arms burned. His fingers went numb.
The third blow nearly took his head off.
He stumbled back, breath ragged, vision swimming. His sword felt heavier with every passing second. The enemy moved like a storm given form, relentless and merciless.
Alpha swung in desperation. The enemy sidestepped with ease.
Then pain exploded in his ribs as a booted foot slammed into his side.
He hit the ground hard, dust and blood filling his mouth. His sword clattered away, useless.
Oh, good. Maybe now his body would stop complaining.
Footsteps. Slow. Approaching.
"Enough."
The enemy stood over him, blade raised, firelight dancing along its edge.
Alpha clenched his teeth.
He had failed.
He had,
No.
Not yet.
The air shifted.
A whisper.
"Alpha."
Soft as silk. Cold as the void.
His breath hitched. That was new.
"Do you wish to stand?"
The battlefield flickered. The pain dulled. Then,
Silence.
He stood in darkness. Weightless. Breathless. No sky, no ground. Only an endless abyss.
And at its heart, something gleamed.
A blade.
It floated in the void, sleek and perfect. Black metal, silver veins pulsing like something alive. Unlike any weapon he had ever seen, elegant, simple, waiting.
It was clearly important. Probably cursed. Definitely ominous.
Alpha eyed it warily. "This is how people get possessed, you know."
The whisper didn't respond.
Fair enough.
"Do you wish to stand?"
The voice curled through his thoughts again. No command. No demand. Just an offer.
He hesitated. A sensible person might wonder if grabbing the ominous void blade was a bad idea.
But Alpha was very tired. And very out of options.
He reached forward.
His fingers brushed the hilt,
The abyss shattered.
Wind howled. Smoke. Blood. Noise.
The battlefield roared back into existence. His body ached. His heartbeat thundered. But he was—
Standing.
His sword was gone.
But in his hand was something new.
The void blade.
It felt weightless. Balanced. It pulsed beneath his fingers, the silver veins across its blackened surface shimmering like liquid light.
He inhaled sharply.
The enemy had stepped back. Their grip on their blade had tightened.
Not in anger.
In fear.
Alpha flexed his fingers around the hilt. "That's new," he muttered.
The enemy hesitated. For the first time since this fight began, they didn't look amused.
They looked uncertain.
Alpha exhaled. His body still ached, but the exhaustion had faded. He wasn't sure if it was the blade's influence or something else entirely.
Didn't matter.
He adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders. Time to test this thing out.
The enemy lunged.
This time, Alpha moved faster. His new weapon sliced through the air like liquid shadow, meeting the enemy's strike with a soundless clash. The impact sent a ripple through the battlefield, distorting the air like heat off a desert road.
The enemy staggered.
Alpha didn't give them a chance to recover.
He pressed forward, his body moving like it belonged to someone else. The blade guided him, its weight nonexistent, its strikes effortless. Every movement felt precise, like he had practiced this a thousand times before.
The enemy barely deflected the next blow. Sparks erupted as their blade met his, but something was wrong.
Their weapon cracked.
Their eyes widened.
Alpha didn't stop. He pivoted, driving his knee into their gut, then brought the void blade up in a single, sweeping arc.
The enemy stumbled back, gasping, a jagged gash cut clean through their armor.
A slow, stunned silence settled over the battlefield.
The fire along the enemy's blade flickered, then died.
Alpha tilted his head. "Not feeling so chatty now, huh?"
The enemy's jaw tightened. "What… have you done?"
Good question.
Alpha had no idea.
But he could figure that out later.
Right now, he had a battle to finish.