The blood-drenched forest echoed with the sounds of Eryx's heavy breathing as he tore through the shadows, his movements swift and merciless. His body burned with an intense heat, his veins coursing with the power that surged within him—uncontrolled, feral, and demanding more. The air around him crackled with dark energy as his eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the madness growing inside.
His grip tightened around his scythe, the weapon stained red with the blood of countless creatures. The blade itself seemed to resonate with his hatred, growing sharper with each kill. Every slash, every strike, fed into the darkness inside him, pushing him further away from the person he had once been.
But that didn't matter anymore.
Lira's death played over and over in his mind—the way the life left her eyes, how powerless he had been to stop it. That helplessness was gone now, replaced by a boiling fury and the relentless hunger for more power. He had one mission: to destroy everything that stood in his way, to tear apart the creatures of the dark until nothing remained but blood and broken bodies.
Ahead of him, the trees swayed unnaturally as another wave of enemies emerged from the black mist. Void Serpents, their sleek, sinuous bodies moving like liquid shadows, slid through the undergrowth, their glowing yellow eyes fixed on Eryx. Their hiss filled the air as they encircled him, their fanged mouths opening to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
"Come," Eryx growled, his voice low and guttural. His eyes narrowed, and without a moment's hesitation, he launched himself at the nearest serpent.
The scythe arced through the air, slicing through the void creature's head in a clean cut. Dark ichor sprayed across the ground, but Eryx was already moving to the next, his body fluid and precise. Two serpents lunged at him from both sides, their bodies coiling as they aimed for his throat.
Eryx ducked low, spinning his scythe in a deadly whirlwind. The blade severed one serpent's body in half, while the other's attack glanced off his shoulder. Pain shot through him, but he ignored it, the burning sensation only fueling his rage. He whirled around and buried the scythe into the surviving serpent's back, twisting the blade as it screeched in agony. The creature collapsed, twitching violently before going still.
More appeared from the mist. These shadows were not like the ones before—they were stronger, faster. But so was Eryx.
He could feel it now—the power inside him moving, evolving. With every kill, it shifted, strengthening, binding itself deeper into his blood. His movements became faster, more fluid, and each swing of his weapon was deadlier than the last. His senses sharpened, his body adapting to the growing darkness inside him.
A new wave of beasts emerged from the depths of the forest—Phantom Lurkers, their lanky bodies covered in tattered, black skin, their mouths twisted into grotesque snarls. Their eyes glowed an eerie red, and they moved silently, slipping in and out of the shadows like wraiths.
Eryx smiled darkly. "I'll kill you all."
They rushed him, their claws slashing through the air with blinding speed. Eryx barely had time to react as one claw grazed his side, slicing through his armor. He spun on his heel, bringing his scythe down in a savage arc. The blade cut through the Phantom's arm, severing it completely, but the creature didn't flinch. Instead, it reared back, launching a second attack with even greater ferocity.
Eryx grinned through the pain, his hate giving him strength. He sidestepped the next attack, flipping his scythe in a swift motion before driving it deep into the Phantom's chest. Its body exploded in a shower of blood and shadow, the force of the impact sending a wave of dark energy rippling through the clearing.
The rest of the creatures hesitated, sensing the shift in power. Eryx could feel it too—his strength was growing, evolving. It wasn't just his physical power that had increased; the darkness itself seemed to bend to his will, as though it recognized him as one of its own.
"More," Eryx growled, his voice filled with madness. His eyes burned with a fiery intensity as the air around him crackled with raw energy.
But then, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble, a low, ominous rumble growing louder by the second. The remaining shadows scattered, retreating into the forest as something far more powerful approached. Eryx stood still, his heart pounding as the trees ahead of him began to split and fall, massive trunks snapping like twigs.
And then, it emerged.
From the depths of the forest came a creature unlike any he had ever seen—an enormous, towering beast with scales as black as midnight and wings that stretched wide, casting the entire clearing in shadow. Its eyes burned with the same malevolent fire that coursed through Eryx's veins.
It was a Shadow Dragon.
The creature's roar split the night, shaking the very earth. Eryx felt the shockwave slam into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. The dragon's massive claws dug into the ground as it lowered its head, its glowing eyes locked onto Eryx with a hatred so pure it seemed to pulse in the air.
Eryx's grip on his scythe tightened. His pulse quickened, but fear didn't overtake him. No, this was something else—something deeper. This was a challenge, the ultimate test of his power.
The dragon lunged, its massive maw opening wide as it unleashed a torrent of black flame. Eryx's body moved before his mind did, his instincts honed by battle. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the inferno, but the heat singed his skin. The pain only sharpened his focus.
He charged toward the beast, his scythe crackling with dark energy as he swung for its legs. The blade connected with the dragon's scales, but instead of cutting through, it glanced off with a metallic clang. The dragon roared in fury, swiping at him with one of its massive claws. Eryx barely had time to block as the force of the attack sent him flying backward.
He hit the ground hard, his vision blurring for a moment. But the power inside him wouldn't let him stay down. It surged to life, filling his body with a strength he hadn't felt before. His muscles tensed, his blood humming with energy as he pushed himself to his feet.
The dragon circled him, its wings beating rhythmically, stirring the air into a frenzy. Eryx could see the hatred in its eyes—it was the same hatred he felt, the same insatiable hunger for destruction.
The dragon lunged again, and this time, Eryx was ready. He channeled the power flowing through him into his scythe, the blade glowing with a dark, ethereal light. With a primal scream, he swung upward, the force of the strike sending a shockwave rippling through the clearing.
The scythe connected with the dragon's chest, and this time, the blade pierced through its tough scales. Black blood sprayed from the wound as the dragon let out a deafening roar, its wings beating wildly as it staggered back.
But Eryx wasn't done.
With a snarl, he leaped onto the dragon's back, his scythe digging into its flesh as he held on for dear life. The creature thrashed and roared, trying to shake him off, but Eryx's grip was iron. The power inside him was boiling now, his body overflowing with energy.
He raised his scythe for the final blow, ready to end the fight.
But just as he was about to strike, the dragon let out a roar so powerful that it shattered the air. A pulse of dark energy erupted from its body, slamming into Eryx with the force of a hurricane. He was thrown from the beast's back, his body crashing into the ground with bone-shattering force.
For a moment, everything was black.
Eryx lay still, his body broken, his mind reeling from the pain. He tried to move, but every inch of him screamed in agony. The dragon stood over him, its massive form casting a shadow across the ground. It let out a low, guttural growl as it lowered its head, its fiery eyes burning with triumph.
But even as the darkness threatened to overtake him, Eryx's power stirred again. It moved through his blood, strengthening him, healing him.
And with it came the hate—the unrelenting, burning hate.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
He would rise again.