Adrian staggered back, blood blooming from a shallow gash along his shoulder. The corrupted qi within the strike tried to leech into him, to burrow into his meridians like worms—but the Bound Star pulsed once, and the corruption was burned away in an instant.
Chains didn't pause. Its movements were inhuman, relentless. One chain whipped across the battlefield, snatching a Mistshroud disciple mid-retreat and slamming him against a stone outcrop.
Adrian gritted his teeth and lunged forward.
This wasn't just an opponent. It was a test.
Every clash of his blade against Chains' bracers sparked lightning. Every breath he drew was a war of willpower against the rising pressure of the Soulforged's presence. It wasn't strength in the traditional sense—it was weight, inevitability, a thing that had forgotten death and now sought to remind others of it.
