Eryx stood alone amidst the carnage of his battle, surrounded by the mutilated bodies of the Duskfangs. Blood dripped from his blade, pooling beneath him as his heart pounded in his chest—not from exhaustion, but from the inferno of hatred that burned inside him.
More creatures stalked him from the shadows—these weren't like the others. Hulking, four-legged monsters with exoskeletons made of thick, jagged armor emerged from the trees. Their eyes gleamed with a venomous green light, and sharp horns jutted from their skulls. He recognized these beasts immediately—Earthspines, tougher than any creature he had faced so far.
The Earthspines charged with reckless fury, the ground trembling under their immense weight. Eryx raised his sword, ready to defend himself. But something shifted deep inside him—the searing hatred he felt, the bloodlust surging within him, triggered something new. He felt it—his power evolving, like a storm building in his veins, demanding release.
As the first Earthspine lunged at him, Eryx thrust out his hand instinctively. A surge of dark energy, blacker than the night itself, shot from his palm with devastating force. It crashed into the creature, sending it flying backward into the trees, its massive body crumpling under the force of the blow.
Eryx stared at his hand, the energy still crackling around his fingers. This power—it was different. He could feel it evolving inside him, responding to his hatred, feeding off it.
The next Earthspine charged, and without thinking, Eryx let the energy flow through him again. But this time, instead of a simple blast, something new happened. The darkness coalesced around his arm, hardening, shaping itself. Before his eyes, the dark energy solidified, forming a long, jagged spear that hummed with raw power.
Eryx gripped the spear tightly, its weight feeling almost natural in his hands, as if it were an extension of his hatred itself. He didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he hurled the spear at the charging Earthspine. The weapon sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning, impaling the beast through its armored chest. The creature let out a final, pitiful roar before collapsing, blood spilling from its wounds.
Eryx stared at the fallen Earthspine, his mind racing. His power—it was changing, evolving. He had just created a weapon—a weapon made from pure darkness, born from his hatred.