Chapter 16: Chris Falls
The attack came at dawn.
Lucan and his two warriors breached the rebel defenses with chilling efficiency. Smoke curled through the mountain tunnels as alarm bells rang out. Chaos reigned. Screams echoed against stone.
Chris fought side by side with Damian. Their movements had grown instinctual—sword and shadow dancing in tandem. They backed into the main hall where the relic was kept, only to find Lucan waiting.
The old commander looked barely aged, hair silver at the temples, eyes sharp as ever. "Damian."
"Lucan."
Lucan's gaze shifted to Chris. "So, this is the weakness you traded your empire for?"
Chris stepped forward, sword raised. "I'm his strength, not his weakness."
Lucan chuckled. "We'll see."
He moved fast—unnaturally fast. Blades clashed. Damian's shadows coiled like living things, but Lucan's mastery of cursed fire magic overpowered them. It was too much.
Chris saw it coming before Damian did. A blade, thrown from behind, aimed for Damian's back.
He didn't think. He just moved.
The knife embedded deep in Chris's side.
Damian's scream cut through the battlefield.
Chris crumpled, blood blooming beneath him like a cursed flower. Lucan froze, just long enough for Damian's fury to ignite.
Darkness erupted from him—not just shadows, but something primal. The chamber shook. Lucan staggered.
Damian surged forward, a creature of wrath and sorrow. He disarmed Lucan in seconds, pressing a blade to his throat.
"Do it," Lucan hissed.
"No," Damian whispered. "You're already dead."
He turned away.
Chris was barely conscious. Damian fell to his knees, cradling him.
"You idiot," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why did you do that?"
Chris smiled faintly, eyes fluttering. "Because I lo—"
"No," Damian said, choking on the word. "You don't get to say it and leave. You don't get to die on me."
"Wasn't planning to," Chris murmured, slipping into unconsciousness.