Ash'Var trembled.
The walls seemed to breathe, as if Hell itself was impatiently waiting for something. For him.
Shadow stood alone in the throne room of black obsidian. His steps echoed dully on the glowing floor. Around him, shadowy figures danced — demons, bound in endless screams, waiting, greedy.
In his hand, he held the last relic of his humanity — a shard of Saphira's amulet. He stared at it, his eyes flickering: one last tear, then he let it fall.
Shattered.
Forgotten.
"Are you ready to complete it?"
Shädow's voice was everywhere. It whispered from the walls, from the floor, from within his own chest.
"You have chosen. Humanity has failed. The world doesn't need heroes anymore… it needs an end."
Shadow closed his eyes.
Then he stretched out his arms.
"Take it," he said quietly. "Take what I am. Leave only the shadow behind."
A storm broke loose.
Flames exploded from his veins. Black energy tore his armor apart. The demons screamed with joy — or fear. Horns grew from his skull. His skin burned — then hardened into something else: dark metal, alive.
He became… something new.
But suddenly — in the midst of the transformation — he screamed.
Not in pain.
In resistance.
"You want to take me over, Shädow…
But I never intended to be a servant."
The world tilted.
Shadow was pulled into his own mind — into an endless space of blood, bones, and flames. There sat Shädow, the ancient demon, on a throne of flesh, grinning, ready to devour him.
"You were only a vessel, Shadow. A tool. Now you are mine."
Shadow stepped closer slowly.
Each step rang like a tolling bell.
His gaze: cold. Clear. Final.
"No," he said.
"You created me. But you never understood me."
With a scream, he tore the last shackle from his chest — a shard of the old soul — and hurled it at Shädow. The demon shrieked, Hell itself trembled.
Then Shadow drew his sword — a new one, forged from pure, black fury.
With a single stroke, he cut off Shädow's head.
Silence.
The flesh, the fire, the chaos — it sucked back into him.
He opened his eyes.
Back in the Shadow Fortress.
All demons knelt. Not a sound.
Slowly, Shadow climbed the steps to the throne.
He sat down.
Not hesitating. Not doubting.
With eyes burning like two suns made of ash, he gazed over his realm.
A demon dared to speak: "What is your command, lord…? King of Hell?"
Shadow spoke quietly — but his words echoed through all dimensions:
"I am no king."
"I am the shadow that will remain."
Then he raised his sword.
The sky over Hell tore open.
The next era began.
Not with hope.
But with shadow.