Chapter 55 – The Blood That Refuses to Become Shadow
The dimension no longer had form. Its sky carried no direction, its ground no end. Black and white clashed violently, colliding into a vortex that pulled everything toward the hollow core.
Elarion and Maxcen still fought with relentless fury. Blades of light and spirals of shadow struck each other, every collision shattering layer after layer of reality. No sound could be heard, yet it reverberated inside the chest—like a heart forced to stop, then beaten until it pulsed again.
Enver knelt, breath caught, his own blood pooling around him. One more strike from Maxcen and he might be hurled out of the dimension… or destroyed.
Yet, his blood still strained to shield him.
And amidst the pain, Maxcen's voice echoed in his head.
"You will become like me…
Or this world will force it upon you.
And if it still refuses, I will break and rebuild it until it bears the fruit I desire."
Enver lowered his head. His hand clutched at his side—not to stem the wound, but to touch three points beneath his skin. He felt the shapes, solid, cold, and sharp.
Three cards. Not crafted from paper nor metal. But from his own bone and blood—condensed through a forbidden incantation, sealed with a price no one should ever dare to pay.
A faint smile—bitter, yet resolute—touched his lips.
"If I must break… then at least not as your shadow.
I refuse to become you."
He bit down on his lower lip until blood flowed. Smearing it over the skin above the cards, he felt the response ignite instantly.
The first card emerged from within his body as if drawn from a mist. Its surface black as midnight, streaked with crimson veins that throbbed like living vessels. Ancient runes crawled across it like worms, radiating a faint, menacing glow.
Without hesitation, Enver hurled it into the air—toward the dimensional rift yawning behind Maxcen and Elarion.
The sound was like bones snapping underwater. The widening crack halted abruptly. The light that had been devouring the human world froze, as though an unseen hand pressed against it from the outside.
Elarion glanced, brow furrowed. Maxcen lingered longer, eyes narrowing. There was something about that energy—too familiar to dismiss.
Enver rose again, body trembling, breath heavy. The first card still pulsed in the air, holding destruction at bay. He lifted his gaze, staring at Maxcen with cold defiance.
"I will not be your shadow," he said—voice cracked, but unwavering.
Maxcen's lips curled—not into laughter, nor anger—but into a gaze laced with rare intrigue, as though witnessing an unexpected defiance.
"Interesting… so you truly dare reject your fate?"
Elarion stepped forward, positioning himself closer to Enver. His eyes locked on him, and for the first time, they revealed… worry.
Not because of Maxcen, but because he knew—the blood card could only be used once. And each use consumed a fragment of its wielder's soul.
Yet Enver did not falter. His hand had already reached for the second card.
And the sky of that dimension began to wail.