The Gatekeeper raised its glaive, its stance shifting, ready to strike again. Kael met its gaze, or the glowing line where its eyes should have been, and grinned, a predator's challenge in the face of an ancient foe. The dance was far from over, and he was ready to lead.
Kael spat another glob of blood onto the stone bridge, the crimson splatter stark against its worn surface. His silver eyes blazed with defiance, a fire that burned brighter than the pain coursing through his battered body.
Let the Gatekeeper adapt, let the trial seek to shatter him, he was Kael, a warrior forged in blood and shadow. He would carve his path through this void, no matter the price exacted from his soul.
The Gatekeeper loomed before him, its obsidian armor glinting under the faint, otherworldly light, its helm's glowing red line pulsing like a heartbeat.
