The blade of shadow I brought down cracked the stone beneath their boots. The captain's shield flared with runes as he braced, every muscle straining. Sparks shrieked as his enchanted sword locked against my tendril-blade, neither giving ground.
"Oh, this one's stubborn. Shiny boy thinks he's in a holy knight drama."
The rogue dashed in low, daggers glinting. Her movements were a blur—fast, sharp, relentless. I snapped another tendril toward her. She vaulted over it, twisting midair, blade aimed at my core.
For a heartbeat, the world slowed. Her eyes narrowed with focus. My faceless form reflected in her steel.
Then—clang! My arm solidified into black armor, catching her strike. Sparks sprayed, her dagger biting deep but not enough. I shoved her back with brute force. She landed catlike, boots skidding across stone.
The mage raised her staff, words spilling in a tongue laced with mana. Crystals at her feet pulsed. A circle of light bloomed overhead, searing down like a miniature sun.
I hissed, shadows recoiling. The priest chanted louder, symbols spinning around him, amplifying the light.
Pain flared—not pain like flesh, but searing disruption. My form rippled, weaker near the glow.
"Now!"
the captain roared. He lunged, sword swinging in a perfect arc toward my core.
I grinned.
Instead of retreating, I surged into the light. Shadows coiled tighter, thickening my form into armor. His blade struck, biting deep—but not through. The impact rang through the cavern, echoing like thunder.
"You want my heart? Fine. Try choking on it."
A tendril burst from my chest, jagged as a beast's fang, and slashed upward. The captain barely raised his shield in time.
The strike dented the enchanted steel, sparks raining down his face. His eyes widened—not fear, but grim respect.
Behind him, the rogue darted again. This time, she found her mark—her dagger cut a clean gash through my back, shadows spilling like ink.
I whipped around. She grinned.
"Cheeky little thief. …I like her."
Before she could strike again, my shadow-arm lashed out, pinning her wrist. Her smirk vanished as I yanked her close, her blade clattering to the floor.
For a heartbeat, our faces nearly touched—hers pale, sweating, mine an abyss of white eyes.
I whispered, low and cruel: "Gotcha."
I hurled her across the cavern. She slammed against the wall, gasping, clutching her ribs.
The mage shrieked her name
"Lyra!"
and fired a bolt of fire so bright it split the dark in half. It slammed into me, burning through layers of shadow. My form staggered, parts of me dissolving like smoke.
I roared—not in pain, but in exhilaration.
The cavern trembled. My tendrils spread like wings, spanning wall to wall.
"YES… push harder!"
My voice cracked like thunder.
"Show me what the light can do!"
For a moment, the adventurers faltered. Even the captain's steady grip shook slightly.
Because they realized it too.
This wasn't a monster fighting to survive. This was a king rising to conquer.