The blood-soaked clearing remained deathly still, the silence oppressive. Eryx knelt beside Lira's body, his hands trembling as they hovered over her pale, lifeless skin. The light in her once fiery eyes had vanished. She was gone.
Eryx's mind was a storm of raw emotion—grief, guilt, rage. He had failed her. He had been weak, powerless. And now, Lira, the one person who had stood by him through it all, was dead, slaughtered before his eyes by the hands of Vekros. The image of her blood dripping from the villain's blade seared into his mind, a memory that would haunt him forever.
And then, the rage came. Not just anger, but something far deeper—an all-consuming hatred. It clawed at his insides, setting his veins on fire, burning through him with a heat so intense it threatened to consume him. Eryx could feel it, like something dark and ancient stirring deep within him, something that had been dormant for too long.
His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as the hatred coursed through his blood. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—wild, untamed, and terrifying. Yet, he welcomed it. He needed it.
Eryx slowly rose to his feet, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. His vision blurred, darkening at the edges, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around him had faded into the background. The only thing that remained was the rage—the hatred—growing stronger with every breath he took.
Something was changing inside him. He could feel it, like a surge of raw energy coursing through his veins, filling him with a power that was far beyond anything he had ever known. It wasn't the Abyssal Chaos System. This was different—this was him. His own power, evolving, growing, feeding off his rage and grief.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his body shaking as the power swelled within him. He looked down at his hands, watching in disbelief as dark energy crackled around them, pulsating with a life of its own. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened. Every fiber of his being was changing, adapting, growing stronger.
The more he thought about Vekros—his mocking words, his cruel laughter, the way he had butchered Lira—his hatred grew, and with it, his power.
A low growl escaped Eryx's throat as he turned his gaze to the darkened forest. He could feel them—the Shadows lurking in the trees, watching him. Their presence used to send shivers down his spine, used to strike fear into his heart. But now, all he felt was rage.
Without hesitation, he charged forward, his body moving with newfound speed and agility. The first Shadow lunged at him from the darkness, its black tendrils reaching out to ensnare him. But Eryx was faster. His blade cut through the creature's body with ease, its dark blood spraying into the air as it let out a guttural screech.
Another one attacked, but Eryx barely registered it. His blade danced through the air, slicing through the creature like it was nothing. The hatred fueled him, pushing him to move faster, strike harder. Each kill only fed his fury, each drop of blood spilled only made him hungrier for more.
The Shadows kept coming, but they were nothing to him now—mere obstacles in his path. He tore through them with ease, his blade slashing through their bodies, his fists crackling with dark energy that shattered anything that dared to stand before him.
The power coursing through him was intoxicating. With every kill, he felt it growing stronger, moving through his veins like liquid fire. His muscles bulged, his senses sharpened even further. He was evolving, his power breaking through to new levels with each creature that fell before him.
More Shadows emerged from the darkness, drawn to his rising power, but Eryx welcomed them. He craved the violence, the bloodshed. He wanted them all dead.
He darted forward, his blade a blur of motion as it cleaved through the creatures. The ground beneath him was soaked in dark, foul blood, the air thick with the stench of death. But Eryx didn't care. He could feel the power building inside him, surging with every heartbeat, feeding off his hatred, his need for vengeance.
He felt unstoppable.
Yet, there was something deeper. His power wasn't just growing; it was transforming. He could feel it in his blood, in his bones—a primal, almost animalistic energy awakening within him. His body was changing, adapting to the surge of power, becoming something more, something darker.
The last Shadow let out a hideous screech as Eryx's blade cut through it, its body disintegrating into ash before it hit the ground. And then, silence.
Eryx stood in the middle of the carnage, his chest heaving, his body drenched in blood. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the power that now coursed through him. He could feel it, burning beneath his skin, threatening to consume him.
And he welcomed it.
He wasn't the same anymore. Something inside him had broken, something fundamental. He could feel it—the hatred, the rage, the power. It was all he had now.
And with it, he would hunt down Vekros.
He would make him suffer.
He would burn the world to the ground if it meant vengeance.
As Eryx stood in the blood-soaked clearing, his eyes glowing with the dark energy swirling within him, he knew one thing for certain:
The old Eryx was gone.
All that remained now was the hatred.