My range reached out—
Nothing.
Not even a quarter of this place answered me. My awareness hit a wall of emptiness, like the space itself refused to be mapped.
I took a step forward.
The air shifted.
The darkness wasn't just still—it moved. It curled along my skin, coiled through my breath, and made it hard to breathe. Not like choking. Like drowning in something heavy and sweet and wrong.
My hand slid back to the Forgotten King's Blade. The edge remained broken, jagged where it had once been whole. But the moment I drew it, black flame surged from my body. It latched onto the fracture like it had always belonged there, filling it—not completing it, but making it whole in a different way.
The blade pulsed, faintly.
Then I saw it.
A beast stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
It didn't drag itself like the others I'd fought. No twisted limbs. No shattered ribs poking out of torn skin. This one was solid, powerful, built to hunt.
A wolf—but wrong in its own terrifying way.
Its fur was deep crimson, as if soaked in blood that never dried. Its eyes burned—not with animal rage, but with something worse. Awareness. It knew what it was doing. It had killed before. It wanted to again.
It stared straight into me.
And I stared back.
Its growl was low, deep, and heavy… like the weight of a collapsing world pressing in on my chest.
"Sorry," I muttered under my breath as I shifted into a stance, the dagger humming in my hand, "but you have to die."
It lunged.
Faster than sound.
I moved. My body strained beyond what it could take, muscles tearing at their limits. The beast came straight for me, silent in its speed. I surged forward, my shadow wrapping around me like second skin. Just before impact, I leapt—weightless in my half-formed state. The world blurred.
And then I shifted—real again, and falling.
My blade slammed into its hide. A deep plunge. A twist.
I ripped it free and hit the ground in a crouch, sliding back. Blood misted into the air.
The beast stumbled—but didn't fall.
It growled again, louder, and something behind my eyes throbbed. I gritted my teeth, watching as thick, slick blood glued its flesh back together, healing too fast.
I glanced at my dagger. The black flame was flickering. Not out—but fading.
I had to end this.
I darted forward, meeting its charge head-on. My fingers reached under my armor and pulled the shurikens—blades laced with shadow.
I flung them. They shimmered, passed through the beast's body like illusions—
Then solidified inside.
It recoiled, pain flashing in its burning eyes. It moved faster now, driven by rage.
Too fast.
Its claws slashed across my arm—
Warm blood spilled down, painting my skin.
I skidded back, breathing hard. My arm stung. My blood was on the ground.
It wounded me.
I blinked. Then I laughed, quiet and short.
For the first time in a long time... I felt awake.
The beast snarled again, crouching low.
I didn't hesitate.
I ran first.
"Sorrow's Dance—Black Flame."
The flame reacted to me, darkening, tightening, burning colder. Hungrier.
The beast leapt.
I met it.
Everything blurred—
Then blood sprayed across my face.
I stumbled to a stop. My chest heaved.
The flames flickered—then dimmed.
I glanced down. My hands shook slightly, but the smile on my lips wouldn't leave.
So that was it. It wasn't just memory or will. My emotions—pain, anger, sorrow—they fed the flame.
I felt the hex echo through me:
[You have slain Twilight Demon: Blood Hound Stalker]
[Your flame grows stronger.]
I reached up, wiped the blood off my cheek with the back of my hand.
The room was quiet now. But the cold didn't leave.
The black flame shimmered once more—then vanished.