Edward froze as the Shadow Reaper's short blade hovered inches from his chest, crimson visor flaring.
The battlefield came to a halt. Roars of the flames, the screams of the undead soldiers, everything became still, dimmed to nothing but a muted hum.
The Lord of Undead spoke, his deep voice carrying echoing across the town.
"You think your shadows obey because you command them," he said, taking a small step forward with a loud clank of his armour.
"But they obey because they are simply a part of you. Every soul you have claimed, every shadow you have summoned, they all carry a fragment of your own essence."
Edward's heartbeat raced.
"My… my essence?" he repeated out loud in a questioning tone.
Edward staggered back slightly, mind racing. Every shadow he had raised, every soul he had claimed—it was all part of him? A chill ran down his spine as the concept sank in.
"Is he trying to throw me off guard?" he wondered, but the reply came just as fast.
