The earth quaked beneath Alan's feet as he surged forward once more, the forbidden rune etched into his soul burning brighter, hotter. Every movement, every breath he took, crackled with unnatural energy, the sheer weight of it distorting the space around him.
The Black Herald raised his broken spear defensively, a silent acknowledgment of Alan's rising threat.
For the first time since he had descended into the mortal world, the Herald knew fear.
Alan struck with the fury of a storm unchained.
His katana, now wrapped in threads of pure magic, moved with terrifying speed, its every arc slicing through the Herald's armor, leaving gashes that bled shadows instead of blood.
The Herald countered desperately, but Alan was relentless—a force of destruction no longer bound by mortal limits.
*****
Far behind, Seris watched with wide eyes.
"This… this isn't normal," she whispered.
Kraevok nodded grimly. "No. He's drawing on something he shouldn't."
The air was heavier now, thick with the scent of burning ozone and ancient magic. Even the ruins around them began to crumble under the sheer pressure of Alan's power.
Seris gritted her teeth. "If he keeps going like this... he might win. But at what cost?"
*****
Alan barely heard the clash of weapons anymore.
His mind was alight with visions—not of this battlefield, but of chains.
Massive, gleaming chains wrapped around a colossal gate suspended in endless darkness.
He could hear a voice.
Soft. Tempting.
"Break the chains," it whispered. "Unleash the truth."
Alan faltered for a heartbeat.
And in that moment, the Black Herald lunged, his broken spear aiming for Alan's heart.
Instinct screamed.
Alan reacted.
With a roar that shattered the stones beneath him, he unleashed a torrent of raw energy.
The ground exploded in a shockwave, sending the Herald flying backward, his armor cracked and smoldering.
Alan dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
His hands trembled.
Not from weakness.
From the monstrous power clawing at the edges of his mind.
Power enough to burn the world to ash.
*****
The Black Herald rose unsteadily.
Parts of his body now smoked and crumbled.
But still, he fought.
He charged again—unyielding, fearless.
Alan smiled grimly.
"So be it."
He stood, katana humming like a living thing.
This time, Alan didn't just fight.
He commanded.
The ground bent under his will.
The air twisted to his song.
He moved faster than thought, his blade a flash of light and death.
One cut.
Two.
Three.
The Black Herald staggered, dropping his weapon.
Alan stood before him, katana pointed at the Herald's heart.
"You were loyal," Alan said softly. "But you chose the wrong side."
With a final, merciful thrust, he pierced the Herald's chest.
The Black Herald gasped once—and then dissolved into a mist of dark light, carried away by a dying wind.
*****
Silence fell.
The storm overhead began to break, letting pale light spill over the ruins once more.
Alan stood amidst the destruction, chest heaving, the last echoes of forbidden power flickering around him like dying stars.
Seris and Kraevok approached cautiously.
"Are you..." Seris began, but her voice trailed off.
Because the man who turned to face them was no longer just Alan Grey.
He was something more.
Something terrifying.
Something inevitable.
Alan sheathed his katana with a sharp click, his blue eyes glowing faintly.
"They sent their best," he said. "And it wasn't enough."
Kraevok let out a low, impressed whistle. "Remind me never to bet against you."
Seris stared a moment longer before forcing a shaky grin. "You're still you, right?"
Alan smiled—cold, fierce.
"For now."
But deep inside, he knew it.
The chains were weakening.
The darkness was watching.
And the gods were not done with him yet.