The world narrowed to a single heartbeat, a single breath, a single clash of wills.
Elian charged, the cold steel of his blade gleaming under the broken moonlight. The Vulture leader met him head-on, their massive sword cleaving down with brutal strength. Elian twisted at the last moment, feeling the rush of air as the blade missed his head by inches, striking the ground with a deafening crash that sent shards of stone flying.
He spun, slashing at the exposed side — but the leader was faster than he looked. The dark sword rose in a vicious arc, forcing Elian to backpedal.
"You're quick," the leader said, his voice metallic behind the mask. "But speed won't save you."
Elian didn't reply. Words were useless now.
Their blades clashed again, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through Elian's arms. He grit his teeth, driving forward with a series of rapid strikes. Sparks flew as steel rang against steel. The leader countered effortlessly, each movement deliberate, calculated — a predator toying with prey.
All around them, the battle raged. Maren fought like a whirlwind against three foes at once. Brynden was a wall of iron, cutting down Vultures left and right. Talren's magic turned the very ground into a deathtrap for their enemies.
But Elian knew it — unless he won this fight, none of it would matter.
---
As the duel dragged on, Elian felt it — the burning in his veins, the growing pulse of ancient power. The Mark on his chest — the one the Council had tried to destroy — now pulsed like a living thing.
Unlock me, it whispered through his blood. Let me be what you were born to wield.
The leader lunged, forcing Elian to block with both hands. The force of it drove him to one knee.
"You don't even know what you carry," the leader sneered. "That Relic will destroy you."
Elian's fingers tightened around his hilt.
No, he thought. I will not be destroyed. I will become.
He rose, letting the Mark flare fully to life.
Golden light exploded from him in a rush, throwing the leader back a step.
The Vultures hesitated for the first time. Even Maren, mid-swing, turned her head, eyes widening.
Elian's blade — once ordinary steel — now glowed with ancient runes, the same runes that burned on his skin.
The leader laughed, low and cold. "So the blood of the Firstborn still runs in your veins after all," he said. "Good. That will make your death a sacrifice worth remembering."
And he lunged again.
---
This time, Elian was faster.
Their blades met, and the shock of the impact sent cracks racing across the ground. Lightning danced through the air. Elian ducked a sweeping strike and countered with a downward slash — the leader barely managed to parry.
They moved like two storms clashing — raw power against awakened destiny.
Elian found an opening — a small one, but enough. He feinted low, then drove the glowing blade upward, slicing through the leader's shoulder armor. Black blood sprayed into the air.
The leader staggered back, growling, but did not fall. Instead, he reached up and tore the broken armor free, tossing it aside.
"You are strong," he said. "But strength alone is not enough."
From beneath his cloak, he drew a second weapon — a slender black dagger that seemed to drink the very light around it.
Elian's instincts screamed a warning.
That dagger was no ordinary weapon. It was something... forbidden.
The leader moved faster now, almost inhumanly fast. Elian blocked the sword but the dagger flashed toward his ribs. He twisted away, feeling the blade graze his side — a searing, icy pain blooming instantly.
His vision swam for a heartbeat.
Poison.
He fought through it, forcing himself to stay upright, his Mark blazing brighter in response.
Around them, the mist thickened unnaturally, cloaking the world in swirling shadows.
"You cannot win," the leader's voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "You carry too much weight. Too much fear."
The words tried to claw into Elian's mind — but he shoved them aside.
"I carry hope," he rasped. "And that... is something you'll never understand."
He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, letting the Mark guide him.
When he opened them, the world had shifted.
The mist cleared in patches, revealing the leader's position.
Elian struck, faster than thought — a diagonal slash from shoulder to hip.
The leader cried out, stumbling backward. The black dagger fell from his grasp, vanishing into the mist.
Elian didn't give him a chance to recover.
With a final roar, he drove his glowing blade through the leader's chest.
The Vulture mask cracked and split, revealing a scarred face twisted in shock and rage.
"You... were never supposed to awaken..." the leader gasped, blood pouring from his lips.
Elian stepped closer, his voice steady.
"Maybe you should have killed me when you had the chance."
With a sharp pull, he tore the blade free.
The leader collapsed to the ground, the light fading from his eyes.
--
The remaining Vultures, seeing their leader fall, broke and fled into the mist. Some were cut down as they ran, others disappeared into the night like shadows.
The battlefield was silent except for the ragged breathing of the survivors.
Maren stumbled toward Elian, her face pale but alive. She caught him as he wavered, the poison still burning in his veins.
"You're hurt," she said urgently.
Elian shook his head weakly. "I'll live."
Talren rushed over, already pulling out herbs and vials from his satchel.
"We need to purge the toxin quickly," he said, pressing a bitter-tasting vial to Elian's lips.
Elian drank without protest, grimacing at the taste.
As the potion began to work, his head cleared slightly.
He looked down at the leader's corpse — and the strange dagger lying just a few feet away.
Even now, it pulsed with a sickly, hungry energy.
Talren followed his gaze and paled.
"That weapon... it's a Soulpiercer," he said. "Forbidden magic. It kills not just the body — but the soul."
Elian's blood ran cold.
Whoever had sent the Black Vultures had not intended to simply kill him.
They had intended to erase him from existence.
And that meant the game they were playing... was far deadlier than he had realized.
Maren knelt beside him, touching his arm. "We need to move. There will be others."
Elian nodded slowly.
Yes, there would be others.
The Council, the Vultures, whatever else lurked in the shadows — they would not stop.
But neither would he.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, the Relic safe at his side, his blade still gleaming with the light of ancient power.
The storm had broken.
And Elian was ready to face whatever came next.
---