The climb up the mountains was grueling, but to Kris Harris, it felt more like a pilgrimage than a struggle. Each step took him closer to the capital, to the heart of the kingdom he had once vowed to protect. But those oaths felt distant now, like a dream that had faded upon waking. The path ahead was all that mattered, and with every breath, he felt the darkness within him swell, urging him forward.
The shadows that clung to Kris's form seemed to grow heavier, more tangible, as he ascended. They whispered to him, coaxing out every buried resentment, every untapped well of rage. The higher he climbed, the stronger he felt—the power of the mountain merging with his own as if the land itself acknowledged his dominance.
When Kris finally reached the summit, he was met with a breathtaking view of the capital sprawled below. The city shimmered in the early morning light, its spires reaching toward the heavens like fingers grasping for something just out of reach. To most, it would be a sight of awe, a testament to human achievement. But to Kris, it was a target—a kingdom ripe for conquest.
He stood at the edge of the precipice, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the defenses of the city. Even from this distance, he could sense the presence of powerful forces at work, wards and spells designed to keep invaders at bay. But those defenses would crumble before him. He had become something more than human, more than a mere hero. He was the embodiment of the void, a force that could not be contained by walls or spells.
Kris extended his hand, and the shadows responded, swirling around him in a tempest of darkness. *"Obsidian Wraith,"* he whispered, invoking one of the newer abilities that had come to him in recent days. The shadows condensed, taking on the form of a dark, ethereal creature—a wraith of pure darkness, its form shifting and flickering like smoke in the wind.
The wraith hovered before him, awaiting his command. Kris could feel its hunger, its desire to consume and destroy. It was a reflection of his own desires, given form by the power that coursed through him. Without a word, he sent the wraith soaring down toward the capital, a harbinger of the doom that was to come.
As the wraith descended, Kris took a moment to savor the anticipation. The city's defenses would be tested, and when they failed—as he knew they would—he would follow, descending upon the capital like a storm, an unstoppable force of nature.
But even as he stood there, reveling in the power he wielded, Kris felt a tug at the back of his mind, a sensation that was both familiar and foreign. It was as if something deep within him was trying to awaken, something that had been dormant for far too long. He tried to push it aside, to focus on the task at hand, but the feeling persisted, gnawing at his consciousness.
With a frustrated growl, Kris turned away from the edge of the cliff and began his descent toward the city. The time for contemplation was over. The time for action had come.
---
The city of Elaria, the capital of the kingdom, was a fortress in its own right. High walls encircled it, reinforced by ancient magic that had been passed down through generations of rulers. Towers rose above the walls, their sentries ever vigilant, watching for any sign of danger. And within those walls, the people went about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the shadow that was about to descend upon them.
But not everyone in Elaria was ignorant of the coming storm. Deep within the palace, in a chamber lit by flickering candlelight, a group of the kingdom's most powerful mages gathered in hushed conversation. They were the keepers of the kingdom's secrets, the guardians of its most ancient and powerful relics. And they had felt the disturbance long before Kris had reached the mountain's summit.
"Something is coming," one of the mages said, his voice trembling with fear. "Something dark and terrible. The wards are weakening, and I fear they will not hold."
"We must prepare," another mage, an elderly woman with silver hair, replied. "The king must be informed, and the people must be evacuated to the inner sanctum. We cannot risk a full-scale assault."
"And what of the shadow?" a third mage, younger and more brash, asked. "Can it be defeated?"
The room fell silent as the mages exchanged uneasy glances. The shadow they had sensed was unlike anything they had ever encountered. It was not a mere creature or spell but something far more ancient, something that defied their understanding.
"It is not a matter of defeating it," the elderly woman finally said. "It is a matter of surviving it."
But even as the mages prepared for the worst, Kris was already moving, his wraith having done its job in locating the weak points in the city's defenses. The wards, powerful as they were, could not withstand the concentrated assault of the wraith's ethereal claws. Cracks had begun to form in the magical barriers, and through those cracks, the shadows seeped, infecting the very essence of the city's defenses.
*Kris could feel it,* the weakening of the wards, the crumbling of the city's last line of defense. He smiled—a cruel, triumphant smile—as he strode toward the gates of Elaria, his steps measured and deliberate. The people on the streets barely noticed him at first, too caught up in their daily routines to see the darkness that had begun to spread through the city. But as he drew closer to the gates, the shadows around him grew more intense, more tangible, and the air grew thick with tension.
It wasn't long before the first screams rang out. People began to scatter, their faces pale with terror as they realized the danger that had come upon them. Kris paid them no mind. They were insignificant, mere insects beneath his notice. His gaze was fixed on the gates ahead, on the barrier that still held strong, though it trembled under the weight of his power.
With a single word, Kris unleashed the full force of his abilities. *"Abyssal Rift."* The shadows converged on the gate, warping and twisting reality itself. The air around the gate shimmered, and with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered, the ancient magic giving way before the darkness. The gates groaned as they were forced open, the metal bending and warping under the pressure.
Kris stepped through the gates, the shadows swirling around him like a living storm. The city was his now, its defenses broken, its people at his mercy. And mercy was something he no longer possessed.
As he made his way deeper into the city, Kris's thoughts turned to the palace, to the heart of Elaria. It was there that the true power lay, the power he had come to claim. The mages who had gathered there were formidable, but Kris was confident in his victory. They were relics of a bygone era, clinging to the old ways, to the light. But the light had no place in the world he was creating.
*"Shadowstep,"* he whispered, and his form blurred, becoming one with the shadows. He moved through the city like a ghost, appearing and disappearing at will, the shadows bending to his command. The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires piercing the sky, a symbol of the kingdom's might. But to Kris, it was nothing more than another obstacle to be overcome.
He emerged from the shadows at the entrance to the palace, the massive doors guarded by the king's elite soldiers. They were prepared for an assault, their armor gleaming, their weapons at the ready. But they were not prepared for what Kris had become.
With a wave of his hand, the shadows surged forward, engulfing the soldiers before they could react. *"Void's Embrace,"* he intoned, and the shadows tightened, crushing the life from the men in an instant. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless husks drained of all vitality.
Kris stepped over them, his expression cold and emotionless. There was no satisfaction in their deaths, only the knowledge that they were no longer an obstacle. The palace doors opened before him, the grand hall stretching out beyond, a vast expanse of marble and gold. The throne at the far end was empty, but Kris knew that the king would not be far. The mages would have gathered him in the inner sanctum, the most heavily protected part of the palace.
But even that sanctuary would fall before Kris's power.
As he made his way through the halls, the shadows continued to spread, seeping into every corner of the palace, corrupting and consuming. Tapestries and banners that had once symbolized the kingdom's glory were now tarnished, their colors faded and dull. Statues crumbled as the darkness ate away at the stone, turning proud figures into twisted monstrosities.
When Kris reached the entrance to the inner sanctum, he paused. The doors were reinforced with powerful wards, ancient magic designed to keep out even the most determined of invaders. But Kris was no ordinary invader. He was the embodiment of the void, a force that could not be denied.
*"Nightfall Ascendant,"* he whispered, and the shadows around him surged with newfound intensity. The doors groaned under the pressure, the wards flickering and fading as the darkness pressed in on them. With a final, shuddering crack, the doors burst open, and Kris stepped into the sanctum.
Inside, the king and his mages stood waiting. The king was a regal figure, his face stern and resolute, but there was fear in his eyes.