Chapter 9
The roar of the monster pulsed through the trees like a shockwave, scattering loose leaves into the air. Orion breathed deeply, steadying the twitch in his fingers. The pain behind his eyes felt like lightning threading through his skull, but he forced it down — willed it into silence.
The beast thundered forward on all fours, ripping apart roots and earth with each step. Its claws gouged deep trenches in the soil, and the wind from its charge sent Orion's cloak flaring behind him.
He moved.
Not with speed.
Not with power.
But with decision.
The moment his foot touched the earth, the space around him shifted. Light bent. Air tightened. His presence vanished, swallowed wholly by the silence he carried.
The monster's massive claw slammed down exactly where he had been — crushing soil into a crater.
Orion stood behind it.
The creature spun, eyes burning with panic. Its instincts screamed warnings. The human before it wasn't prey. It wasn't predator. It was something that didn't fit in the hierarchy of beasts.
Its arms swung wildly, one after another, each blow powerful enough to flatten houses. Orion didn't evade with haste; he simply wasn't there when the hits landed. Each movement—each shift—was as natural as breathing.
The beast froze mid-swing.
Orion's sword point pressed lightly against its wrist.
A drop of dark blood formed.
The monster ripped its arm back in fear, stumbling. Its massive body trembled, shaking loose dirt and leaves stuck in its fur. It pounded its chest, releasing another roar that cracked branches overhead.
Orion exhaled through his nose, calming the pulsing inside his skull.
"Your power isn't yours."
His voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"The strength you're using… doesn't belong to a Stage 5."
The fake Stage 5's chest heaved rapidly, breath coming out in hot clouds of steam. The creature clawed at its own face, tearing lines into its skin — as if trying to rip out whatever forced it beyond its limits.
Then it lunged.
The ground burst beneath it as it launched forward, jaws wide enough to swallow a head whole.
Orion advanced at the same time.
Two steps.
One exhale.
A single swing.
The clash didn't release a shockwave.
Didn't shake the earth.
Didn't light up the forest.
It was quiet.
Quiet in a way that was unnatural — as if reality itself refused to acknowledge the collision.
The monster froze mid-air.
A thin line of black cut across its chest, barely visible, like ink upon shadow.
It didn't bleed.
Not yet.
The creature blinked, confused.
Then the pain hit.
Its scream rattled the leaves as crimson poured out in thick waves. It stumbled back, falling onto one knee, massive torso twitching uncontrollably as the wound spread.
Orion wiped the edge of his blade with his thumb.
The monster swung in desperation, claws trembling. Orion sidestepped and pressed his palm gently to its throat.
It spasmed under his touch.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Sleep."
The beast's eyes widened. For a brief moment, it understood — it truly understood — that this creature before it was not human. Not mortal. Not something within the cycle of the forest.
The monster surged upward in a last attempt to crush him.
Orion tightened his grip slightly.
The beast collapsed.
Its entire weight crashed into the ground, shaking the nearby trees and sending flocks of birds into the sky. It clawed weakly at the soil, breath ragged, each inhalation like a furnace burning out of fuel.
Its strength drained rapidly — not because of injury, but because something else was happening.
Orion felt it.
His shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground.
It reached the monster.
Touched it.
Wrapped around it.
And then—
The creature's form trembled, flickered, and slowly sank into darkness. Not swallowed. Not consumed. Converted.
Its outline darkened.
Its shape subtly warped.
Its eyes dimmed until only the faintest red glow remained.
When the darkness receded, a new figure knelt before him — humanoid in shape, monstrous in aura, yet silent as the void.
A shadow.
Orion lowered his hand.
The new entity bowed its head.
"Shadow," he murmured.
He hadn't meant for it to happen.
But something inside him, tied to resurrection and creation, had acted on instinct.
The moment the beast died under his domain-aligned presence, its soul was forced into a different state — a dark rebirth.
A new pulse of pain hit him.
He staggered.
The forest blurred.
Light flickered.
The twenty-five lights returned to his inner vision — closer now, pulsing, shifting.
Seven moved toward him like celestial eyes.
Twenty-three recoiled, terrified.
He blinked, grounding himself as the world snapped back into place.
The shadow-beast rose silently at his side.
Orion exhaled.
His battle wasn't over.
But something else was awakening.
And whatever those lights were, they were getting closer.