A chaotic storm of magic and fury envelops the remains of the Blind Citadel. Where once stood towering obsidian spires and ancient halls, there’s now only a sea of rubble. Every strike Kael and I exchanged reduced colossal structures to dust, leaving the Heart of the Cataclysm alone at the center, steadfast and indestructible. Even so, I’ve managed to force Kael far from that buried core, step by brutal step. I can sense his exhaustion—his spells still deadly, but coming more slowly now.
Just when I press him to the edge of collapse, a volley of attacks rains down from every angle. Raging beams of arcane light, grotesque summoned monsters, illusions that shimmer like heat haze, arrows of sizzling magic—all shrieking in from the remains of archways and parapets. My body tenses, corruption surging through my veins like molten metal. I brace myself, letting the waves of violence wash over me, battering my newly empowered flesh. Some strikes pierce my defenses, sparks of agony ripping through my senses, but I barely feel them. My skin smolders where the spells land, yet I stand unbroken.
“Go, Kael! Run, save yourself! We can hold him off!”
I recognize the voice—the beautiful witch who once confronted me in the Glass Wastes. She emerges among the ruins, her power thrumming in spidery arcs across the ground. Her robed arms are flung wide, channeling a flurry of enchantments.
But Kael shouts back, stubborn defiance burning in his eyes. “No! I won’t run. We need to stop him here—he has the key to open the Heart! We did it once a thousand years ago, we can do it again!”
A towering man in dark armor charges forward, sword raised high. I almost laugh at his reckless courage. Shadows coil around my limbs, drawn by my own ravenous need. The sheer volume of attacks intensifies, yet I feel alive in a way I’ve never known—my mind alight with the predator’s thrill, fueled by Voidbound power.
“The audacity!” I hiss, voice resonating with the void’s echo.
Drawing on that power, I weave it through my muscles, letting the corruption make me faster and stronger. My body blurs to one side, easily evading the swordsman’s lumbering blow. Then I slice the air with a flick of my hand. Something invisible cleaves through flesh and bone, separating his head from his shoulders in an instant. The man’s eyes register shock for the briefest flicker as his severed head tumbles through the ash-laden air.
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For half a second, my own gaze snags on his face. I know him. He was there in my fractured memories—one of the companions who stood beside me in the old days. But the thought dissolves as quickly as it came. A fresh wave of spells slams into me, forcing me to pivot and retaliate.
They come at me in squads now—wounded mages, knights brandishing blades charged with crackling energy, spectral beasts that rise from swirling portals. I hear my name on their lips as they fight:
“Eldrin, stop! Please—”
“Eldrin, you don’t have to do this!”
Their pleas ring hollow in my ears, drowned out by the pounding pulse of my own power. Each step I take cracks the rubble beneath me, each swing of my corrupted arm unleashes a shockwave of black flame. One by one, they fall. Some collapse where they stand, mortally wounded. Others try to flee, scattering like chaff in the wind, their cries echoing off the broken walls. A few drop to their knees in surrender, arms raised in trembling fear. I pay them no mind. My senses scream for more—more blood, more magic, more conquest.
Even in the frenzy, I feel myself adapting to this new state of being. The void flows within me as naturally as breath, each heartbeat syncing with the dagger’s malevolent cadence. I half-remember a time when letting the corruption overwhelm me felt unthinkable. Now, it’s exhilarating—like tasting a world I’d been denied all my life.
The battered courtyard reeks of death and magic. Corpses and shattered constructs lie scattered everywhere. The cityscape beyond is nearly unrecognizable—a crater-filled labyrinth of skeletal walls. And still, I stand, unbowed, at the center of it all. My hands and forearms look more shadow than flesh, seething with the black ichor that once only crept beneath my skin. It’s as though the void itself has claimed me fully, granting me freedoms and power I never dared to imagine.
Some of Kael’s allies remain, forced back by my assault—an unspoken moment of dread simmering in the air. In the distance, I spy Kael himself, forced to regroup behind their faltering line, catching his breath and recomposing his strategy. Yet I can’t force myself to care. Every shred of my consciousness is focused on sating the blazing urge to tear down anyone who stands between me and absolute supremacy.
I clench my fists, sparks of shadow dancing around them, and glance at the battered remnants of those who once dared to challenge me. My voice, edged with cruelty, echoes across the rubble:
“None of you matter anymore.”
Above me, the poisoned sky churns with ash. Behind me, a path of carnage and ruin leads back to the Heart of the Cataclysm. And somewhere in the back of my mind—faint, almost imperceptible—I sense an echo of another time and place: warm laughter, camaraderie, a shared dream of saving a broken world. But that memory vanishes under the avalanche of dark power rushing through my veins.
I raise my void-scorched arms, ready for the next wave, hungry to devour anything and anyone in my path.
