The square was eerily quiet after Eryndor's departure. The light that had pierced the blood-red sky was gone, leaving only the oppressive glow of the Hell-gates and the dark silhouettes of the beasts. The Severance Fang still hummed faintly in Alden's hand, but the chancellor's face was pale, his breath shallow as he processed what had just transpired.
The hero stood at the center of it all, his body trembling—not from fear, but from something darker. The grimoire at his side pulsed faintly, its whispers louder than ever. He could feel its power coursing through him, binding itself deeper into his very soul.
"You felt it, didn't you?" the grimoire whispered, its voice smooth and insidious. "The way even a god trembled before the power you wield? You are no longer bound by their rules. You are beyond them."
The hero's hands curled into fists, his jaw tight. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered, but even as he said the words, he felt the pull of the grimoire's promises. Power. Control. Freedom from the chains of fear and betrayal.
The Beasts Begin to Change
The beasts surrounding the hero shifted uneasily, their forms flickering as if they were responding to his growing turmoil. The serpent that had nearly attacked Alden coiled closer to the hero, its fiery eyes watching him intently. Another beast—a wolf-like creature with shadowy fur—let out a low growl, its form shimmering with faint traces of red.
Alden noticed the change, his hand tightening around the Severance Fang. "You're losing control," he said, his voice sharp. "The beasts—they're not obeying you anymore. They're feeding off you."
The hero glanced at the creatures, his chest tightening as he realized Alden was right. The beasts weren't just summoned entities—they were extensions of his power, reflections of the grimoire's growing influence over him.
"They are yours," the grimoire purred. "They live because of you. Their strength is your strength. Let go of your fear, and you will see what you truly are."
For a brief moment, the hero felt the urge to give in, to embrace the power fully. But before he could act, a sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he staggered backward.
A God's Possession
Alden rushed to the hero's side, but before he could speak, his eyes widened in shock. A faint golden glow appeared behind him, and his body tensed as if seized by an invisible force. His head snapped upward, his eyes now glowing with a blinding white light.
When he spoke, it was not Alden's voice, but one that carried the weight of ages.
"Mortals," the voice said, its tone resonant and commanding. "You meddle with forces beyond your comprehension."
The hero's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
Alden's possessed form stepped forward, the golden light swirling around him. "I am Myrran, the Watcher of Mortals. I speak for the gods who cannot tread upon this plane. You have walked too far into the abyss, harbinger. The corruption has already begun."
The hero's anger flared. "You think I don't know that? You think I wanted this?"
Myrran's gaze was cold and unyielding. "Wanting or not, the choice was made. And now, the balance is at risk. We warned you to surrender the grimoire. You refused. Now, you leave us no choice but to intervene."
The First Test
Myrran raised Alden's hand, and the Severance Fang glowed brighter, its runes shifting into new patterns. The blade now carried divine energy, making it even more potent against the infernal power of the grimoire.
"You will submit," Myrran said, "or be struck down."
The hero's fury erupted. "I won't submit to anyone—not gods, not mortals, and definitely not you!"
The beasts around him roared in unison, their forms growing larger and more distorted as they fed off his rage. The serpent lashed out at Myrran, its massive jaws snapping shut around the possessed chancellor.
But before the beast could crush its target, a wave of golden energy exploded outward, sending the creature flying. Myrran emerged unscathed, his form glowing brighter.
"You cannot defeat me," Myrran said. "Not as you are now."
The Hero's Descent
The grimoire's voice rose above the chaos, dripping with malice. "See how they fear you? Even the gods seek to destroy you. But you are more than they realize. Show them your power. Show them why you are the harbinger of the end."
The hero's vision blurred, his mind fracturing under the weight of the grimoire's influence. He could feel his humanity slipping away, replaced by something darker, something primal.
"Enough!" he roared, his voice echoing unnaturally.
The beasts responded instantly, their forms merging into a massive, writhing abomination. The creature let out a deafening roar, its eyes glowing with the same crimson light as the grimoire.
Myrran hesitated for the first time, his gaze flickering with unease.
A Moment of Clarity
In the midst of the chaos, a faint voice broke through the hero's mind—a voice he hadn't heard in years.
"You're more than this," it said softly. "Don't let the darkness take you."
The hero froze, his anger faltering. The voice was familiar, comforting. It was the voice of someone he had loved, someone he had lost.
For a brief moment, the grimoire's hold weakened, and the hero saw himself clearly—scarred, broken, and teetering on the edge of becoming a monster.
But the moment passed, and the grimoire's whispers returned, stronger than ever. "Do not waver. They will destroy you if you hesitate."
The hero's resolve hardened. "If this is what it takes to survive, then so be it."
To Be Continued...