The dawn broke across the ruins of Arctis City, painting the sky in bruised shades of orange and silver. The smoke from the night's battle still lingered, curling upward like ghosts reluctant to leave. What had once been the heart of the human realm was now a silent graveyard of metal, blood, and ash.
Kaien Draven stood on the edge of what used to be the central plaza, his cloak tattered, his armor cracked, his blade—Noxveil—planted deep into the stone beside him. The morning wind tugged at his dark hair, carrying faint whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
He could still hear it—the faint echo of his shadow's laughter. The fight had ended, but something inside him had changed. A part of that darkness hadn't died. It had… settled.
Lira approached quietly, her boots clicking against the debris. Her once-white robes were smeared with soot and blood, yet her presence still carried that strange calm, that glow that refused to fade even when the world turned to ruin.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly.
Kaien's eyes didn't move from the city. "Did you?"
She gave a tired smile. "Barely. Every time I close my eyes, I see what happened last night. That shadow of yours—" she paused, looking at him carefully—"it was more than a reflection, wasn't it?"
Kaien said nothing for a while. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant caw of a crow.
Finally, he said, "The abyss doesn't just grant power. It tests whoever wields it. That thing wasn't just a part of me—it was me, if I had fallen completely. The darkness I've been holding back for years."
Lira frowned. "Then how did you survive it?"
Kaien's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Because I remembered who I was fighting for."
Her expression softened. "You mean… us?"
He looked at her for the first time that morning. "Not just you. The people who still believe there's something left to save." He turned back to the horizon. "Even if the light breaks, someone has to carry the flame."
Before Lira could answer, the air changed. A low hum vibrated through the ground—faint but growing stronger. Kaien tensed immediately, hand on his sword. "You feel that?"
Lira nodded, raising her staff. "It's coming from the east."
A deep crimson glow began to pulse across the horizon, bleeding through the mist. Then came the roar—ancient, guttural, filled with rage. Birds scattered from the ruins as the ground trembled beneath their feet.
Kaien's eyes widened. "No… not this soon."
From the horizon, they saw it—an army marching through the smoke. Thousands of figures, clad in bone-like armor, eyes burning with infernal light. The Legion of the Abyss, moving under the banner of a black flame.
Lira's heart skipped. "That's impossible… the gates were sealed!"
Kaien's voice was grim. "They've found another way through."
He pulled Noxveil free from the stone, its blade igniting with a dark red aura. "Get the survivors underground. Now."
Lira hesitated. "Kaien—"
"Go!" His tone was sharp, commanding. "I'll hold them off."
"But you can't fight them all alone!"
He glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. "I've never been alone. Not really."
She understood then. Despite all his darkness, all his battles, Kaien still believed in something larger—something unbroken inside him. Lira clenched her staff, nodded once, and ran toward the ruins to gather the few survivors left.
Kaien turned back to the approaching army. The crimson light from the horizon cast his shadow long across the shattered earth. His heartbeat slowed, steady and calm, as he whispered to himself, "If the abyss wants war, then I'll give it one."
The first wave hit.
Flaming arrows rained down from the sky, striking the ground around him in a chorus of explosions. Kaien raised his hand, summoning a dome of dark energy that deflected the blasts. As the smoke cleared, dozens of demons charged forward—some on four legs, some winged, some with skeletal jaws that dripped molten ichor.
Kaien moved like lightning. His blade was a streak of black fire, each swing tearing through armor, bone, and flame. His aura flared brighter with every strike, the ground itself cracking beneath his feet.
He leapt into the air, spun, and unleashed a sweeping arc of crimson energy that tore through an entire line of demons. The explosion that followed sent shockwaves rolling through the battlefield.
But for every demon that fell, ten more emerged from the smoke.
Kaien landed hard, panting. "So that's how it is…"
A massive shape loomed through the haze—a demon general, ten feet tall, wielding a flaming halberd. Its eyes glowed like molten suns.
"Draven!" it roared. "The False King demands your death!"
Kaien wiped blood from his lip, grinning. "Tell your king to come say it himself."
The beast lunged, swinging its halberd with enough force to shatter stone. Kaien met the strike head-on, their weapons colliding in a blinding burst of sparks. The impact sent both flying backward, crashing into the ruins.
The demon roared again, hurling a ball of flame. Kaien slashed through it midair, the explosion lighting up the sky. "You talk too much," he growled.
He vanished in a flash of black light and reappeared behind the demon, driving Noxveil straight through its spine. The creature screamed as its body erupted into black fire and collapsed.
Silence followed—brief, heavy.
Then the ground beneath him cracked again, glowing red. From the fissure, a voice echoed—low, ancient, and full of mockery.
"So much rage, my child… do you still think you fight for light?"
Kaien froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one that haunted his dreams—the Demon King's true voice.
"You can't win this war," the voice continued, soft but thunderous. "Because your fire… is mine."
Kaien's mark began to burn across his chest, glowing through his armor. He dropped to one knee, gasping. His veins pulsed black as the abyss within him tried to awaken again.
"No… not now…" he hissed.
The voice chuckled. "You are my vessel, Kaien Draven. You were never meant to destroy me—you were meant to become me."
Kaien's vision blurred. The world flickered between reality and shadow, his surroundings melting into darkness. He could see himself again—his reflection, the same shadow he thought he'd destroyed—smiling at him.
"Did you really think you silenced me?" the shadow whispered. "I was never gone. I was waiting."
Kaien roared, slamming his blade into the ground. "Get out of my head!"
The energy exploded outward, shattering the illusion. For a moment, the world snapped back into focus—the ruins, the smoke, the blood.
And Lira—standing behind him, eyes wide with terror.
"Kaien!" she screamed. "Your aura—it's turning black again!"
He turned to her, breathing hard, eyes glowing with crimson and shadow. "Then stay back."
She shook her head. "No. Not this time. You're not fighting this alone."
Before he could protest, she pressed her glowing hand to his chest. Light surged from her palm, clashing violently with the darkness inside him. The two forces screamed against each other—light and shadow tearing the air apart.
Kaien shouted in pain, but Lira didn't move. "You're not a weapon," she cried. "You're Kaien Draven—the one who stands between worlds, not beneath them!"
The darkness screamed. The mark burned—and then, slowly, began to fade.
Kaien collapsed into her arms, gasping for breath. The black aura dissipated, leaving only faint embers in the air.
Lira held him tightly, whispering, "You're not alone, Kaien. Not ever."
For a long time, they stayed there—two broken warriors, surrounded by the ashes of a dying world, holding onto the only light they had left.
Far away, in the realm of the abyss, the Demon King's throne cracked slightly. His voice rumbled through the void, cold and enraged.
"So be it," he whispered. "If my vessel refuses me… then I will come for him myself."
The ground trembled across every realm. The war of shadows had only begun.