Chapter 290 — Shadows Ascendant
The Hollow bled.
The battle that had begun with fire and steel was now slipping into despair. Their warriors were pressed against their own gates, shields splintered, weapons slick with sweat and blood. The cries of the wounded rose louder than the clash of steel, and the battlefield reeked of smoke, iron, and death.
Thalos collapsed to one knee, spear buried in the chest of yet another zealot, blood running down his cheek in thick rivulets. Rogan's axe dripped gore, but his arms trembled, his movements slowed. Varik dragged a blade from an enemy throat, but his breath came ragged, his eyes darting, searching for escape routes instead of prey.
Even Lyria's voice cracked, her protective barriers splintering like glass under the unrelenting bombardment of holy fire. Azhara's hands shook over torn flesh that she could no longer mend fast enough, her mana reserves dangerously thin.
And Kael, their center, was faltering.
The Duel — Kael and Teren
Teren Valcor stood tall, silver runes pulsing across his greatsword. His strikes landed like thunderbolts, precise, measured, devastating. Kael's blade was heavy in his hands, his chaos magic sluggish to answer his call, as though his own body rejected it.
Another blow sent Kael sprawling to the dirt, his ribs screaming, his wings tattered. He coughed, blood spattering across the cracked earth.
"You've fought well enough," Teren said evenly, his tone infuriatingly calm, as if this duel were nothing more than a lesson. He planted the tip of his greatsword into the earth, its runes blazing. "But now, Dragon… it ends."
The Hollow's warriors screamed in desperation. The Church pressed forward, sensing victory.
And then—Kael rose.
The Surge
Chaos ignited.
Shadows burst from Kael's body in jagged tendrils, writhing and snapping like hungry serpents. His eyes blazed with a molten fire, scales tearing through his skin as his dragon blood surged to the surface. The air warped around him, heat and distortion bending the battlefield into a storm of raw energy.
He gripped his sword, its edge glowing black and crimson. "You want an ending? I'll give you one."
Kael moved. One heartbeat he was across the field, the next he was in front of Teren, shadows wrapping around the slayer's limbs, binding, tearing, choking. Teren roared, his greatsword slashing wildly, cutting through shadow after shadow—yet for each one severed, three more rose.
The earth cracked beneath their clash. Mana flared so violently that soldiers on both sides staggered back, shielding their eyes.
Kael's voice thundered across the field. "Kneel."
The shadows obeyed. They dragged Teren down to one knee, his sword arm trembling as he fought the inevitable.
For the first time, the Slayer's calm faltered.
The Hollow's Resurgence
As Kael surged, so did his people. Rogan roared with newfound fury, cleaving through zealots in sprays of blood. Thalos found speed in his veins once more, his spear a blur of lethal brilliance. Varik struck from shadow to shadow, his daggers finding throats and spines with unerring precision.
Even Lyria, her mana nearly gone, felt strength rekindle at the sight of her love standing tall, commanding a Slayer to his knees. She raised her hands, her shields reforging in golden brilliance, pushing the Church's fire back.
Zerathis let out a laugh like rolling thunder as he drove his claws into the High Priest's chest. "Your god does not hear you now." With a violent twist, he ripped the priest apart in a storm of dark fire, the radiance of the Church guttering out like a dying star.
The Hollow roared as one, and the Church broke.
The End of the Slayer
The battlefield fell silent save for the crackle of fire and the groans of the dying. The Hollow stood victorious, the Church of Saint Ovre reduced to corpses and ash.
And in the center, Teren Valcor knelt before Kael, bound in writhing shadows. His face twisted in fury, his silver eyes burning with hate.
"You think this is over?" he spat, blood dripping from his mouth. "You've only made enemies beyond your comprehension. I will haunt you, Dragon. I will hunt you. I will carve the hearts out of everyone you—"
Kael raised his sword, shadows coiling around the blade like serpents. His eyes burned with merciless fire.
"No," Kael said, voice cold as iron. "You won't haunt anyone ever again."
With one clean strike, he cut Teren's head from his shoulders.
The battlefield echoed with silence, broken only by the thud of the Slayer's body hitting the dirt.
The Hollow had won.
But Kael knew—this victory would not be the last battle, only the opening wound.