“It would appear he indeed has the S-Class Imprint,” one of the soldiers muttered grimly.

  They tightened formation, warily encircling Taryn, his hellhound, and the unconscious girl lying between them.

  Taryn knelt beside Xara, pressing two fingers to her neck. Her pulse was weak, but steady. She was alive. Her cosmic energy, however, was completely drained. Her veins showed signs of internal damage.

  The hellhound growled low, its snarl perfectly in sync with Taryn’s emotional state. The moment the soldiers made a move, it would strike.

  

  “Let’s hit him together,” another soldier barked. “He’s just awakened—he won’t be used to his powers yet.”

  In unison, the encircled troops launched a flurry of cosmic attacks. Heat rippled through the air, distorting the atmosphere with raw energy.

  Taryn stood calmly and turned to face one side of the assault. The hellhound snarled and braced itself in the opposite direction. Together, they shielded Xara’s unconscious form at the center.

  His imprint pulsed.

  A summoning circle appeared beneath his feet, glowing with ancient energy.

  Suddenly, from thin air—a mountain began to rise.

  It erupted upward like a spear from the earth, a black peak that rapidly expanded into a full hill, tearing through the formation and pushing the soldiers back. Their attacks slammed harmlessly into its slope, sizzling and fading on contact.

  

  “He... summoned a mountain!” one of them shouted.

  The shock rippled through the group. What Taryn had done should’ve been impossible—summoning something of that scale was a feat only achievable by a Cosmic Lord, or perhaps a dozen Cosmic Kings working in unison.

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  The mountain continued to rise, its summit eventually towering over the ruined sect grounds. From the peak, Taryn could see the devastation spread across the Merlin Sect.

  His presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. The monstrous phenomenon drew the attention of allies and enemies alike. But only those who had witnessed the event at the western manor knew who had caused it.

  The soldiers, now scattered across this strange alien landscape, found themselves surrounded by twisted trees bearing fruit that resembled devilish heads. The ground beneath them was pitch black. The air stank of sulfur and death.

  They tried to flee.

  But it wouldn’t be that easy.

  This mountain was Taryn’s domain now. He could feel every movement, every breath, every heartbeat that wasn’t his.

  He turned to his hound.

  

  “Kill them all. No survivors.”

  The beast howled—and split into ten smaller hounds, each radiating bloodlust. They scattered across the terrain, vanishing into the twisted forest to hunt.

  Taryn sat at the mountain’s peak, Xara’s head resting gently in his lap. He ran his fingers softly through her silver hair, the strands glowing faintly under the early moonlight. The suns had already begun to set. The air was quiet—too quiet.

  But even in this moment of silence, something throbbed inside his chest.

  A pain that refused to fade.

  He closed his eyes and dropped into meditation, diving inward to examine his body.

  What he found was staggering.

  In his abdomen burned a black, fiery cosmic core, etched with his sigil. Cosmic veins extended from it, a network of radiant energy flowing through his body. He could now move his curse mark freely across his body, channeling energy with precision. When he placed it on his forehead, his vision expanded—clear, near-omniscient across the mountain.

  He saw his hellhounds tearing through the enemy. One soldier was decapitated mid-scream. Another had his limbs ripped apart before being swallowed whole. One by one, they all fell in despair.

  Taryn watched, expression unreadable.

  Was he supposed to feel something?

  Pity? Mercy?

  He felt nothing.

  Except pain.

  He returned to his heart—and there he saw the true anomaly.

  It wasn’t beating.

  Instead, it was encased in a thin layer of ice, and surrounded by a seal—a seal he recognized instantly.

  It was Xara’s sigil.

  His heart had stopped. Yet he was alive. Breathing. Moving.

  Was it his cosmic energy keeping him alive?

  Or something else?

  He didn’t know.

  What he did know... was that the pain wasn’t going away. It wasn’t sharp—but deep. Lingering. A wound that refused to heal.

  The hell he had endured today had carved something permanent into him. A scar etched into the very fabric of his being. A burning truth:

  

  If the world threatened Xara again...

  He would burn it to the ground.