The remains of the Shadow Dragon lay still, its massive heart held in Eryx's trembling hand. Blood oozed between his fingers, hot and sticky, but he barely noticed. The rush of power surged again, searing through his veins like molten iron. It was intoxicating, yet suffocating, an endless cycle of triumph and torment.
But this time, something was different.
The air grew colder, the oppressive silence pressing down on the clearing like a suffocating shroud. The old man's warning echoed faintly in Eryx's mind: You're standing at the precipice of something you don't yet understand.
A tremor rippled through the ground, gentle at first but growing stronger, as though the earth itself was recoiling from what had just occurred. Eryx dropped the dragon's heart, his sharp gaze shifting toward the horizon. The shadows that had once felt like mere nuisances now seemed alive, writhing with a malevolent presence.
The old man stepped forward, his sword still gripped tightly. "You've gone too far."
Eryx turned to him, his voice laced with irritation. "You don't get it, do you? This is what I was meant to do. This is who I am."
"And at what cost?" the old man shot back, his tone cutting. "Your humanity? Your soul? Look around you, Eryx. This power is not a gift—it's a curse."
Eryx laughed, a hollow, humorless sound. "Humanity? That was stripped from me the moment I was betrayed. The world gave me nothing but pain. Now I take what I'm owed."
The old man's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, a new presence made itself known.
The shadows parted, revealing a figure unlike any Eryx had encountered before. Cloaked in black armor etched with glowing crimson runes, the figure exuded an aura of pure dread. Its face was hidden behind an ornate, expressionless mask, but the power radiating from it was palpable, suffocating.
Eryx felt his instincts scream in warning, a primal fear clawing at the edges of his mind.
The figure raised a gauntleted hand, its voice deep and resonant, like the tolling of a bell. "Eryx, the one who devours the divine. You have disrupted the balance."
Eryx's grin returned, though it was tinged with unease. "Balance? I've been fighting to survive while the world stood by and watched. Don't lecture me about balance."
The figure's head tilted slightly, as though amused. "You speak of survival, yet you tread the path of destruction. You are no savior. You are an aberration."
With a sudden motion, the figure unsheathed a blade wreathed in dark flames. The heat from it warped the air, and the very ground beneath it cracked and burned.
The old man stepped forward, his own sword gleaming in the moonlight. "This isn't a fight you can win, Eryx."
Eryx ignored him, his eyes locked on the figure. "You think I'm afraid of you? Let's see how divine you are when I tear you apart."
He launched himself forward, dark energy erupting from his body. The figure met his charge effortlessly, their blades clashing with a thunderous roar. Sparks flew, and the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the forest, toppling trees and scattering debris.
Eryx pressed the attack, his strikes growing faster, more ferocious, each one fueled by the unrelenting hunger within him. But the figure moved with unnerving precision, parrying each blow with ease, its movements fluid and deliberate.
"You fight like a beast," the figure said, its voice calm. "No discipline. No control. Only rage."
Eryx snarled, his fists blazing with energy as he unleashed a devastating barrage of punches. The ground quaked beneath them, the forest lit by the brilliance of his power. But the figure remained unfazed, its blade cutting through Eryx's attacks with surgical precision.
And then it struck.
The figure's blade pierced through Eryx's shoulder, searing pain exploding through his body. He staggered back, clutching the wound as blood poured from it.
The old man stepped forward, his expression grim. "Enough, Eryx. You're not ready for this."
But Eryx's eyes burned with defiance. He gritted his teeth, the dark energy within him surging once more. "I don't care if I'm ready. I'm not stopping."
The figure tilted its head again, almost pitying. "You are consumed by your own power. And that is why you will fall."
With a flick of its wrist, the figure sent a wave of dark flames surging toward Eryx. He braced himself, raising his arms to block, but the force of the attack slammed into him like a tidal wave, sending him crashing into the ground.
For the first time, Eryx felt something he hadn't in a long time: weakness.
As he struggled to rise, the figure loomed over him, its blade poised for a killing strike.
And then, a voice echoed in his mind, soft but firm.
Do you wish to survive?
Eryx's vision blurred, but he clenched his fists, his voice a whisper. "Yes."
The power within him roared to life, darker, more potent than ever before. His body burned with it, his wounds sealing as the energy consumed him. When he stood, his eyes glowed with an ominous light, his entire being radiating pure destruction.
The figure hesitated, its blade lowering slightly. "What are you?"
Eryx grinned, his voice a growl. "Your end."
The battle resumed, fiercer than ever, the clearing consumed by a storm of light and shadow. But even as Eryx fought, a part of him wondered: how much of himself would be left when the dust finally settled?