Drake stood at the threshold of Gruter's throne room, the final barrier between him and the demon lord. His heart pounded as he felt the weight of the Blade of Shadows growing heavier in his hand, pulsating with dark energy. The air was thick with tension, and shadows seemed to crawl along the walls, whispering of doom. The remnants of Gruter's fortress were bathed in eerie red light, as if the very walls bled from the evil that had corrupted this place.
Gruter sat upon his throne in the center of the room, shrouded in darkness. His once humanoid form had twisted into something far more grotesque, far more powerful. His skin had turned ashen gray, and his body was no longer bound by human shape. Large, jagged wings jutted out from his back, his eyes burned a deep crimson, and his hands had morphed into claws that could tear through any living being. He was now a manifestation of pure, unrelenting darkness.
"I've been waiting for you, Drake," Gruter's voice echoed through the chamber, distorted and layered with demonic undertones. "You've come far… but do you really think you can stand against me? Look at what you've become."
Drake's muscles tensed, and the Blade of Shadows throbbed in his grip. He had lost so much—his comrades, his very humanity. The demon within the sword whispered to him, coaxing him to embrace its power fully. But Drake fought against it. He could feel the blade's hunger, its desire to consume him, to turn him into something just like Gruter.
"I didn't come this far to let you win," Drake growled, his voice hoarse from exhaustion and rage. "You've destroyed everything… taken everything from me. This ends here."
Gruter laughed, a deep, bone-chilling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very ground. "Oh, you think you've lost everything? You're still clinging to those last shreds of hope. But let me show you… what true power is."
With that, Gruter stood, his wings spreading wide, casting a shadow that enveloped the entire chamber. His body began to change, growing larger, more monstrous. His skin cracked like the surface of molten lava, revealing the true extent of the power he had been feeding on for centuries. Souls—thousands upon thousands—poured out from within him, trapped within the beast that Gruter had become. Their tortured faces twisted in agony, their screams filling the air.
Drake could barely comprehend the horror before him. This wasn't just a demon—it was a living prison of the countless lives Gruter had claimed. This was his true form, a grotesque, towering abomination that fed on death and despair.
"I will not be defeated," Gruter roared, his voice amplified by the souls writhing within him. "I am eternal. I am the end of this world, and you, Drake, are nothing but another lost soul to add to my collection."
Drake gritted his teeth, every instinct telling him to flee, but he stood his ground. His grip tightened on the Blade of Shadows, and the sword responded, its dark energy surging through him, giving him the strength to face this horror. He felt the power building inside him, but with it came the overwhelming temptation to let go, to give in to the sword's call and become something darker.
"No," Drake muttered to himself, struggling to maintain control. "I won't let this thing consume me."
Gruter lunged, his massive form crashing toward Drake with terrifying speed. The ground shook as the demon's claws slashed through the air. Drake barely dodged, his body moving on instinct as he rolled to the side and struck back with the Blade of Shadows. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, but Gruter barely flinched.
"You think you can harm me?" Gruter taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "You're nothing but a child playing with a weapon you don't understand!"
Drake's resolve hardened. This was the final battle, and he couldn't afford to hold anything back. He summoned the power within him, pushing himself beyond his limits. The Blade of Shadows crackled with energy as dark tendrils wrapped around Drake's arm, fusing with his flesh. It hurt—burned—but he welcomed the pain, knowing that it was the price for victory.
"I'm not just a weapon," Drake shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I am the Chosen One!"
With a roar, he charged at Gruter, his blade striking with all the power he had left. The blade cleaved through the air, striking Gruter's chest. For the first time, the demon lord recoiled in pain, the souls within him howling in agony. Gruter's monstrous form staggered, black ichor pouring from the wound.
"You… you dare—" Gruter's voice faltered as Drake pressed the attack, landing blow after blow. Each strike weakened the demon lord, each hit severing the connection between Gruter and the souls he had consumed.
But even as Gruter faltered, Drake could feel the darkness of the blade tightening its grip on him. The more he fought, the more he risked becoming the very thing he sought to destroy.