The whirlwind of shadow engulfed him, its icy tendrils slashing at his

  armor, seeking to breach the radiant shield that encased him. Jack felt the

  weight of the Herald’s power pressing down, a suffocating presence that

  threatened to drown him in despair. But the warmth within his chest flared in

  defiance, and his armor responded.

  Jack willed the golden light to solidify further, its surface taking on a

  jagged, crystalline texture to counter the swirling chaos. He pressed forward,

  his steps resolute despite the oppressive force around him. The claws he had

  manifested earlier reshaped into a massive, curved blade extending from his

  forearm. With a sweep of his arm, the golden blade slashed through the shadows,

  carving a path toward the Herald’s core.

  The Herald retaliated with a cacophony of attacks. Shadowy limbs erupted

  from the maelstrom, clawing, piercing, and battering against the armor. Each

  strike forced Jack to adapt. When a claw struck from above, the golden energy

  surged to form an overhanging barrier. When the shadows closed in from all

  sides, the armor expanded into spikes that impaled the encroaching darkness,

  disintegrating it on contact.

  Jack moved with an agility that felt almost supernatural, a symphony of

  motion guided by instinct and the armor’s responsiveness. He focused on his

  legs, envisioning reinforced greaves that would enhance his speed. The armor

  shifted seamlessly, encasing his legs in golden plating adorned with intricate,

  glowing patterns. He leaped high into the air, the enhanced strength propelling

  him above the storm.

  The shadows surged upward, a tidal wave of blackness intent on dragging him

  back down. Jack’s armor responded by sprouting radiant wings, each feather an

  arc of golden energy that sliced through the darkness. With a single powerful

  beat, he dove toward the Herald, his blade gleaming with the intensity of a

  supernova.

  The Herald roared, its voice a fractured symphony of rage and fear. It

  lashed out with a massive appendage, a jagged spear of pure malice aimed

  directly at Jack’s heart. In that moment, the golden armor flared brighter than

  ever, condensing into an impenetrable shield over his chest. The spear struck,

  and the impact resonated through the psychic plane like a thunderclap, but Jack

  remained unharmed.

  Fueled by the adrenaline of survival, Jack’s mind raced. The armor shifted again, forming a spinning drill around his right arm.

  He poured every ounce of his will into it, the drill blazing with radiant light

  as he descended.

  The Herald howled, its form collapsing inward as Jack’s attack struck true.

  The drill pierced the crimson core, golden light surging into the darkness. The

  shadows writhed and twisted, their coherence unraveling as the Herald’s essence

  was consumed by the radiant energy.

  For a moment, the entire psychic plane seemed to freeze. Then, with a

  deafening roar, the Herald exploded into a cascade of light and shadow, its

  essence scattering into the void.

  Jack landed on the glassy surface, his armor retracting to its original

  form. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, the warmth within him now a

  steady pulse of satisfaction. The mist around him began to clear, the

  oppressive weight lifting from the air.

  But the battle wasn’t over. The shattered fragments of the Herald coalesced

  into a new shape—a figure of fire and steel, its eyes burning with molten fury.

  Jack’s breath hitched as he recognized the form. It was Ignarix.

  Or rather a warped mockery of Ignarix.

  The Afrit’s majestic form was twisted into a nightmare. His towering frame

  remained, but now his crimson flesh pulsed with veins of black light that

  seemed to crawl like living things. From his back sprouted translucent red

  tentacles(seriously what was up with the Herald and tentacles?), each

  undulating with a fluid, almost hypnotic motion. These weren’t just

  appendages—they were extensions of his will, tipped with wicked, glowing axes

  that radiated searing heat. The axes dripped with molten sparks, each drop

  falling and fizzling into the glassy surface beneath.

  His horns, once proud and spiraling, had been twisted and elongated into

  jagged, flame-like crescents that radiated malevolence. Eyes that once burned

  with controlled fury now glowed with a chaotic, malevolent crimson, twin

  beacons of hatred that bored into Jack’s soul. The air around him shimmered,

  waves of heat distorting the already surreal environment.

  “I will burn your essence to ash.” the Herald growled, its voice a guttural,

  layered echo that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  Jack laughed mockingly “Is this the best you can do? Use my memories to take

  the forms of opponents I’ve beaten already?”

  Ignarix—or the abomination that had become of him—snarled, the sound a deep,

  reverberating growl that set the air trembling. The molten axes at the ends of

  his tentacles spun with terrifying precision, their edges glowing white-hot as

  they cut through the psychic mist that still lingered around them. Jack squared

  his stance, his golden armor crackling with energy as it reshaped itself in

  response to the overwhelming threat.

  "Mockery?" The Herald’s warped voice boomed, layers of malice

  laced through every syllable. "No, mortal. This is refinement. You

  face not a memory, but an evolution born of your failures. You will be

  unmade."

  Jack sneered but didn’t waste breath on a reply. His claws extended into

  twin, gleaming blades, their jagged edges shimmering like the surface of a

  sunlit sea. His wings reformed, their radiant arcs pulsing with raw power. He

  launched forward, the glassy ground beneath him shattering with the force of

  his movement.

  Ignarix’s tentacles moved in a blur, the fiery axes whipping through the air

  in a blazing storm. Jack twisted midair, his blades slicing through the first

  axe with surgical precision, the molten weapon bursting into harmless sparks.

  But the other axes followed in relentless succession, a tempest of fiery

  destruction that forced him on the defensive.

  The psychic plane resonated with the clash of radiant energy and molten

  fury. Jack ducked under a sweeping strike, his golden gauntlet forming a spike

  that he drove upward into one of the writhing tentacles. The appendage

  recoiled, molten sparks spraying as the Herald snarled in pain.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But Ignarix countered with brutal efficiency. One of the tentacles smashed

  into Jack’s side, sending him skidding across the ground. The molten axe scored

  a glowing scar across his armor, the heat seeping through and burning his flesh

  beneath. Jack gritted his teeth, the searing pain fueling his resolve.

  As he rose, his armor adapted again, forming a lattice of crystalline ridges

  that pulsed with defensive energy. He slammed his fists together, and a

  shockwave of golden light erupted outward, momentarily pushing back the

  relentless axes. He didn’t hesitate, using the opening to close the distance

  between him and Ignarix.

  "You’re just as slow as the real thing," Jack growled, his voice

  low and taunting. He swung his blade in a vicious arc, aiming for the warped

  core he knew was hidden within Ignarix’s chest.

  The Herald laughed, a fractured, grinding sound that sent chills down Jack’s

  spine. “You mistake patience for weakness.”

  The tentacles converged in an instant, forming a blazing shield of molten

  axes that caught Jack’s strike. Sparks flew as golden energy met molten fury,

  the clash lighting up the void in a blinding explosion. The force hurled Jack

  backward, and he barely managed to steady himself with a beat of his radiant

  wings.

  “You’re stronger than before,” Jack admitted, spitting a glob of blood onto

  the glassy surface. His lips curled into a fierce grin. “But so am I.”

  He raised his hand, and the golden light around him intensified, coalescing

  into a massive hammer that hovered above him like a celestial weapon. Its

  surface was etched with intricate runes that pulsed with power, each strike of

  the Herald’s malice feeding its strength. Jack gripped the ethereal weapon, its

  weight reassuring in his hands.

  Ignarix snarled, his tentacles thrashing as he surged forward, molten axes

  spinning in a fiery dance of death. Jack met the charge head-on, the hammer

  swinging in a devastating arc. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the

  plane, fracturing the ground beneath them.

  The battle raged, each exchange more brutal than the last. Jack’s hammer

  smashed through tentacles, sending molten sparks flying, while the Herald’s

  molten axes carved scars into the golden armor. The heat was unbearable, the

  air shimmering with waves of distortion as their clash reached a fever pitch.

  Jack knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. The Herald’s power was

  relentless, an unyielding tide that threatened to overwhelm him. But deep

  within, the warmth in his chest burned brighter, a steady flame that refused to

  be extinguished.

  From his vantage point, he saw the Herald’s true form—a pulsing, crimson

  core buried within the heart of the Ignarix construct. Jack narrowed his eyes,

  focusing all his willpower on reaching it.

  "You’re not invincible," Jack muttered, his voice grim with

  determination. He focused his will, pouring every ounce of his energy into the

  hammer. It began to glow brighter, the runes flaring with blinding light.

  A whirlwind of fire engulfed him, crimson tendrils slashing at his armor,

  seeking to breach the radiant shield that encased him. Jack felt the weight of

  the Herald’s power pressing down, a suffocating presence that threatened to

  drown him in despair. The malevolent voice of the Herald whispered insidiously

  in his thoughts, urging surrender. But Jack refused to yield, the warmth within

  his chest flaring in defiance.

  The golden armor responded to his resolve, solidifying further, its jagged,

  crystalline surface designed to counter the swirling chaos. Yet Jack’s strikes,

  no matter how powerful, only disrupted his opponent temporarily. The Herald was

  deeply entrenched in his psyche, and every blow felt like striking at smoke.

  “This isn’t working,” Jack muttered, frustration gnawing at him as he

  parried another flaming axe. He could fight the Herald in its current state, maybe

  even defeat it. But what would stop it from simply taking another form to renew

  its attack? His golden hammer became a blade that chopped off the tentacle holding

  the axe.

  A realization struck him like a blow. He couldn’t simply destroy the

  Herald—it had become a fragment buried in his mind. If he couldn’t cut it down

  physically, he would need to drive it out.

  But how?

  Jack took a breath, focusing on the warmth in his chest. He visualized it

  expanding, pushing back the intruder. His armor began to glow brighter, the

  golden light radiating outward. The mockery of an afrit hissed and recoiled at

  the touch of the light at first, but then the Herald laughed.

  “You think you can simply burn me out?” the Herald taunted, its voice a

  guttural symphony of disdain. “I am rooted in your mind now, mortal. I see your

  failure, your fear, your doubt. You cannot escape me.”

  Jack clenched his fists. "Then I’ll find another way to make you

  leave."

  The battle turned inward. Jack stopped attacking with his blade, focusing

  instead on his surroundings. He reached out mentally, searching for the core of

  the Herald’s presence. The Ignarix construct lashed out in fury, but the armor

  shielded him as he dug deeper.

  Each attempt revealed more of the Herald’s influence. The whispers grew

  louder, dredging up memories of regret and shame. Jack faltered as images of

  past failures surfaced—moments he thought he had buried. The memories were

  oddly vague He could feel fragments of the emotions they dredged up but could

  not recall specifics. Whatever the reason for it, it dulled the Heralds attempt

  to psychically manipulate him.

  “No,” Jack growled, pushing the memories aside. "You don’t define

  me."

  He tried different approaches. First, he visualized walls of golden light

  boxing in the Herald’s essence, but the creature seeped through every crack.

  Then, he attempted to sever the connections tethering the Herald to his mind,

  but the monster was slippery, reforming faster than he could react. Its essence

  was one of change and adaptability and no cage could hold it for long, no blade

  could cut it beyond its ability to reform.

  It wasn’t until he paused, breathing deeply and centering himself, that

  clarity struck. The Herald fed on his attention, his doubt, his fear. By

  engaging with it directly, he was giving it power. The key wasn’t to fight the

  Herald’s form—it was to reject its very existence.

  Jack closed his eyes, shutting out the Herald’s taunts. He focused inward,

  on the warmth in his chest. That light wasn’t just his connection to Goldeyes.

  It had started out that way but through it, he had accessed something deeper. It

  was his sense of self. It represented everything the Herald couldn’t touch—his

  determination, his hope, his will to move forward.

  “You don’t belong here,” Jack said firmly, his voice echoing across the

  psychic plane.

  The Herald hesitated, its form flickering.

  Jack opened his eyes, his golden armor blazing with renewed intensity. He

  didn’t attack. Instead, he allowed the light to grow, not as a weapon but as an

  overwhelming presence. The Herald writhed and recoiled, its edges fraying.

  “This is my mind,” Jack continued, his voice steady. “You have no power

  here. You’re nothing but a parasite, feeding on doubts I don’t need anymore.”

  The Herald roared, its form collapsing inward as the light consumed it. It

  surged forward one last time, a final desperate attempt to claw at his resolve.

  But the golden light expanded, filling every corner of Jacks mind, leaving no

  space for it to exist.

  With a blinding flash, the Herald simply… vanished.

  As the light faded, Jack stood amidst the ruins of the psychic plane, his

  armor battered but unbroken. The warmth in his chest pulsed steadily, a

  reminder of the strength that had carried him through the fight.

  He turned then, the golden glow of his armor fading into a soft shimmer as

  his gaze settled on the black wall behind him.