The mountain shook.
Not from wind, nor storm—but something deeper. A tremor that gnawed at the earth like teeth into flesh. Kieran opened his eyes beneath the pale starlight, his breath steady. The shadows that had once surrounded him now stood silent, as if awaiting orders.
Then the smoke rose higher.
It wasn't distant anymore. It was climbing—a thick black cloud crawling up the slopes like a living tide. And behind it, something moved.
Massive.
Cracking trees, breaking stone, burning the forest in its wake.
Kieran stood, not flinching, but listening. The Eye ignited faintly, reading the aura. This wasn't natural. This wasn't even human.
It was born from something old.
Then, it stepped into view.
A giant hound, its body stitched from charred metal and flesh, fire leaking through the cracks in its ribs like molten blood. Four eyes glowed red like dying stars. Its claws tore through the terrain like paper.
And behind it—
A man. Cloaked in burnt crimson robes, a crown of antlers adorning his head.
"Voidborne," the figure said, voice like boiling oil. "Your blood resists fate. You were never meant to rise."
Kieran's voice was calm. "Then fate needs to be rewritten."
The hound lunged.
He dodged, barely. The swipe of its claw sent a boulder hurtling past him, carving a trench into the mountain wall. He rolled, shadows bracing him mid-air, launching him higher. The Eye blinked once—time slowed.
He struck.
The blade, coated in his Shadow's Murderer Intent, tore into the hound's eye. It shrieked—not just in pain, but rage. Its body expanded, flames pouring out. One of the summoned Will-Manifests shattered trying to protect him.
The crimson man stepped closer. "This is only the first. You claim strength, but you don't yet understand what breaks the sky."
Kieran fell to one knee, blood on his lip. But he smiled.
"Then teach me," he said, rising with dark wings unfurling behind him—shadow-born, formed from the Eye's power.
He was done running.