The air was thick with ash and tension. The remnants of the last skirmish still smoldered in the clearing, smoke curling into the night sky like gray serpents. Ragnar stood amidst the wreckage, molten talons retracting slowly as the shadows around him hissed, whispering hungrily about the power still within reach.
Selene staggered forward, her silver chains flickering weakly, veins darkening with exhaustion. She had pressed herself to the limit, the cost of her power evident in every trembling breath. Yet, despite the pain, her eyes were sharp, measuring the battlefield, measuring Ragnar.
"You're pushing too far," she said softly, clutching her side. Her voice trembled, though her silver eyes blazed with determination. "Every time you draw that power, you risk… everything."
Ragnar didn't reply immediately. He scanned the wreckage around them: Purge Units reduced to ash, remnants of shattered laws hanging in the wind, the cries of distant survivors carried faintly to their ears. He could feel the shadow pulsing beneath his skin, eager, hungry, whispering again. More. Take it. Dominate it.
He clenched his fists. "I know," he said finally, voice low, rough with fatigue. "I know what I risk. But if I don't… they'll never stop coming. And you—you shouldn't have to die to hold me together."
Selene's hand brushed against the silver chains on her arm reflexively. "Then let me choose. I can fight. I've survived this long, haven't I?"
A flicker of something unspoken passed between them—a recognition that survival wasn't just physical, but the invisible tether of trust and unspoken reliance that had grown between them. Ragnar's shadow pulsed, almost in approval.
A sudden sound shattered the fragile moment: a low, reverberating hum from the sky. Both turned instinctively. From the horizon, a figure descended, cloaked in steel and smoke, aura radiating cold authority. The Purge Unit they had just fought were nothing compared to this.
"Ragnar," the newcomer said, voice calm, almost cordial, yet carrying the weight of inevitability. "You've grown stronger than I anticipated."
The shadow beneath Ragnar stirred violently, claws extending instinctively, hungry for confrontation. Selene stepped forward, silver chains coiling around her like protective serpents.
"Who is this?" she demanded, voice tight.
The man inclined his head, eyes scanning both of them with unsettling precision. "I am Madric. And unlike those you've faced before, I do not come to test your strength. I come to break it."
Ragnar's crimson-black eyes narrowed. "Break it? You think I'll kneel?"
Madric's lips curved faintly. "Kneel? No. I want to see what you'll do when the world itself turns against you. When the Laws you covet consume everything you care about. Will you protect them? Or will you let them burn to gain power?"
Selene's chains tightened instinctively around her wrist. She exchanged a glance with Ragnar—a silent promise that neither would face this alone.
Dax, Ruin, and Kael appeared behind them, faces drawn with exhaustion but eyes burning with unyielding resolve. Dax clenched his fists, muttering, "So this is what we get for surviving the Purge Unit… another headache."
Ruin smirked, leaning on his blade. "At least this one looks like it's serious."
Kael's shadow stretched along the ground, tendrils ready, and he said quietly, almost to himself, "Graves or not… I'll crush whoever stands in the way."
The tension mounted, each heartbeat echoing like war drums in the forest. Ragnar flexed his claws, shadow crawling along his limbs, feeding off his anger and determination.
"You've pushed your limits before," Madric continued. "And you've survived. But this time, the rules are different. Every bond you cling to—your friends, your allies, even the girl beside you—will be tested. Sacrifices will be made. Oaths will shatter."
Selene's silver eyes flashed dangerously. "Then let us see whose resolve is stronger."
Ragnar inhaled deeply, the air around him thickening as the shadows responded. Flames and darkness intertwined beneath his skin, the echo of every stolen Law resonating through his veins. He looked at Selene. "Stay close. No one dies tonight—not if I can help it."
The first strike came without warning. A pulse of energy, jagged and corrosive, slammed into the ground near them. Trees splintered, earth fractured, and the shadows recoiled instinctively. Ragnar's claws ignited, Abyssal Talons extending in response, while Selene's silver chains shot outward, intercepting fragments of the destructive blast.
"Ragnar!" Selene shouted, pushing against the force, the chains burning into her arm. "They're not like the Purge Units! This is different!"
Ragnar didn't answer. Every muscle, every sense, every stolen fragment of Law within him screamed for survival. He lunged forward, shadow and fire merging, moving faster than thought, cutting through the attack, leaving a trail of molten darkness in his wake.
Behind him, Dax and Ruin flanked the group, weapons ready, while Kael's silent figure became a dark anchor, shadows curling around him like living armor. Together, they formed a fragile yet unyielding shield around Selene, around each other.
The night became a symphony of destruction and survival. Laws collided, shadow devoured fire, silver light countered steel. And in the eye of the storm, Ragnar realized something: no matter how many enemies came, no matter how many powers he faced, no matter how much blood was shed—he would fight. For Selene. For his friends. For the bonds that had slowly, painfully, grown strong enough to challenge the world.
Because even in a world devouring itself, even when ash and shadow reigned supreme, some things were worth protecting.
And Ragnar, the Law Devourer, would be the one to ensure they survived.