Elias sat alone on the dojo floor, staring blankly at his phone. He'd taken it out just to check the time, maybe scroll through anything that could distract him from the restless energy coiling through his veins. But a news alert flashed across the screen, and his breath hitched as the headline seared in urgent red:
BREAKING: Ward Games Under Attack by Unknown Entity
Heart pounding, he tapped the notification, and a live feed filled his screen. The footage was shaky, taken from a helicopter's vantage point, emergency lights flashing across the high-rise against the dark cityscape. Crowds of police cars and panicked employees surged below as smoke poured from shattered windows. Then the camera zoomed in, and Elias saw it.
A Devourer—massive, twisted, unlike any he'd seen before—was tearing through the building. But it wasn't mindless. It moved with calculated precision, shoving through walls and floors with brute intelligence, and it was… talking. His mind reeled as he struggled to process the words echoing from its maw, issuing commands with chilling malice.
And then he saw his brother.
Markus stood amidst the chaos, calm, a slight smile curling his lips. Blood streaked his suit, yet he seemed untouched. He looked directly at the camera—no, through it. Elias's breath froze as he realized: he was looking at him. A silent challenge in his gaze.
Elias shot to his feet, gripping his sword with one hand, the other already reaching for his jacket. He was halfway out of the room when Victor's voice rang out, sharp and unyielding.
"Elias."
Elias froze but didn't turn around. Every second counted. But Victor's footsteps approached, slow and steady, until he was standing just behind him.
"You're not ready," Victor said, his voice a calm that sliced through the chaos in Elias's mind. "If you go now, you'll lose."
Elias's fist tightened around his sword hilt. "My brother's in danger. He needs me, and you're telling me to just sit back? To do nothing?"
Victor's gaze didn't waver. "This is what I've been teaching you, Elias. Control. Patience. Without them, that sword will devour you the moment you unleash it."
Elias spun to face him, anger flooding his chest. "I don't have time for patience! Every second I wait, Markus could be—" His voice cracked, the fear seeping in despite his effort to push it down.
Victor's gaze softened, though his resolve stayed firm. "Charging headfirst into this fight won't save him. It'll only get you killed."
Elias held Victor's stare, fierce and unyielding. "Then so be it."
Victor's hand came down firmly on his shoulder. "There's more at stake here than you realize. I know what that sword is doing to you, what it's demanding. If you go into this fight without mastering it, you won't just lose yourself. You'll lose any chance of helping the people you care about."
For a moment, Victor's words hit him, a glimmer of doubt creeping in. But then he remembered Markus's face, the mocking, taunting look that had flared through Azazel's eyes. The choice became clear.
He shrugged off Victor's hand, determination hardening in his gaze. "I'll take my chances."
Victor's mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn't stop him. Instead, he nodded, a shadow of resignation crossing his face. "Then I'm coming with you." Elias opened his mouth to protest, but Victor silenced him with a hard look. "Don't try to stop me. If you insist on this, as your master, I'll see you through it."
Nearby, Emilia's hand gripped Victor's arm, her expression filled with a mixture of fear and understanding. "Please, don't let him get killed."
Victor leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Even if it costs me my life."
Elias felt the weight of the sword again, cold and pulsing in his grip. But in that moment, all fear faded, washed out by Victor's presence and resolve. Together, they left the quiet, empty dojo and stepped into the night.
The streets were eerily silent as they approached Ward Games' high-rise, its structure scarred by obsidian roots cracking through the earth like twisted vines. The air hung heavy with decay, a stench Elias recognized from the mansion.
"This is… just like the mansion," he murmured, keeping his voice low.
Victor nodded, eyes scanning the surroundings, but they didn't slow. Shadows crept around them, echoing the urgency in Elias's mind. If I can kill this Devourer, I can fix everything. Markus, the chaos—all of it.
The sword thrummed louder, eager.
They moved with precision, Elias easily dispatching Lesser Devourers as they ascended, Victor funneling the creatures to him. His own blade was nearly useless against them, a frustration he masked as they cleared the tower floor by floor. But as they reached the top, the real challenge emerged.
A massive Devourer stood waiting, its terrible wings unfurled. Unlike any he'd fought before, its form was almost humanoid, though warped, golden eyes gleaming in a featureless face. Shadows coiled along its limbs like living tendrils, its voice filling the air as it spoke.
"Pitiful creatures. You are but a fleeting breath. We will devour this world as we have so many others."
Across from it, reporters huddled in a nearby building, capturing the scene with shaky cameras. They were frozen, transfixed by the creature's eerie, controlled presence.
The Devourer turned, golden gaze locking onto Elias. Then he saw him—Markus, or rather Azazel, seated in the center of a circle of bodies, their twisted limbs arranged in disturbing symmetry.
"Ah, little brother," Azazel said, an amused smile playing at his lips. "Isn't this… delightful?"
"Azazel," Elias spat, anger tightening his voice. "What are you doing? We had a deal."
Azazel shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, deals get so dull. The general's plans take too long to ripen with that sword in your possession. So, I've helped things along." He gestured to the bodies. "Helped you along, really."
Victor stepped forward, anger simmering in his gaze. "Human sacrifices?"
The Devourer growled, taking a step forward. "Silence, mortal!"
But Azazel waved him off with a laugh. "Mortals, so impulsive. Little Markus was just like that… at first." He shuddered with pleasure. "The despair was delicious."
Elias's grip tightened. Rage blurred his vision as he drew his sword, the blade pulsing with dark energy.
"Elias, don't!" Victor shouted, but Elias was already moving, his body surging forward with unnatural speed. In a flash, he sliced through three of the Devourer's fingers, its roar echoing in the air.
Before he could react, two Lesser Devourers leapt at him. His blade moved instinctively, cleaving them to ash. For a moment, a dark thrill filled him. Unstoppable.
But the larger Devourer recovered, its missing fingers reformed, moving with frightening fluidity as it lunged.
Elias barely blocked in time. The impact rattled his bones. The Devourer laughed, voice slithering through his mind. "Strong, yes, but that weapon wields you like a toy."
Victor appeared, a blur of motion as he intercepted the next strike, sliding effortlessly between Elias and the Devourer. Though his sword was old and cracked, his presence shifted the fight.
The Devourer hissed, stepping back in caution. "What are you?"
Victor didn't respond, his gaze fixed on Elias. "You need to stop. Now."
Elias shook his head. "I can do this."
"No. You can't."
The Devourer lunged, and Victor met it with the last of his strength, his movements precise, each deflection calculated. But the Devourer was relentless. Tendrils struck unpredictably until one slipped through, raking across Victor's side, sending him sprawling.
"No!" Elias rushed forward, but Victor raised a trembling hand, stopping him.
"Don't… rush," he managed, his voice a thin whisper. Blood soaked his side, yet his gaze was steady. "You need… to watch."
The Devourer approached, grinning with dark triumph. Victor's sword lay shattered, useless. Desperation clawed at Elias's mind, the sword in his hand urging him to act. But Victor's final look was calm.
Then Victor reached for the corrupted blade.
"No—Victor, don't!" Elias's voice broke, but it was too late. Victor's hand closed around the hilt, and the sword's violent energy shifted, calming in his grip. Victor drew it once, a final burst of power cleaving the Devourer cleanly.
The creature's shriek tore through the night as it crumbled to ash.
And Victor stumbled, blood pooling beneath him. Elias dropped to his knees, panic gripping his chest. "Victor—stay with me!"
Victor's breath was shallow, his face pale, but his eyes were calm. There was no anger in his gaze—only quiet understanding.
"You have everything you need," Victor whispered, his voice weak but steady. "Just… stop fighting the wrong way."
Elias's vision blurred, unshed tears stinging his eyes. He wanted to scream, to beg Victor to hold on—to somehow defy the impossible one last time. But he could see it in Victor's face. The fight was over, and this time, there was no going back.
Victor managed a faint, knowing smile, and his eyes closed. Just like that, he was gone.
The world felt still—too still, like the aftermath of a storm. Elias sat in the dust, cradling Victor's lifeless body, the weight of the sword pressing against his mind like a vice, whispering that this was all his fault. And for once, Elias didn't argue. He let the guilt settle, heavy and suffocating, crushing his chest in a way he couldn't bear.
Around him, reporters had gathered, their cameras trained on the scene, capturing the aftermath of a battle that had claimed the only person who had truly believed he could master his power. Victor was gone. The Devourer was dead. And somehow—nothing felt fixed.
Behind him, the TV cameras buzzed, lights casting long, haunting shadows across the broken cityscape. The silence was suddenly interrupted by a slow, mocking clap.
Azazel grinned, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction. "Oh, the drama! The tragedy!" he exhaled as though savoring the moment. "Thank you, Elias. Thank you for being born."
The words slithered into Elias's mind like poison. He released Victor's body, his fingers shaking as he stood. With one last look at the man who had saved him—again and again, no matter the cost—Elias turned away, a chasm of grief hollowing out his heart.
"Eli!" Ava's voice cut through the ruins, desperate, pleading. It felt like a tether, a reminder of something real and alive, but he couldn't turn around. He couldn't look at her, not now. He was already slipping out of reach, fading into the shadows like a ghost.
Without another word, Elias disappeared into the night, leaving behind the corrupted sword—the cursed blade that had taken so much from him, and, in the end, left him with nothing but the ruins of his past life.