The monstrous form I had become roared with rage, muscles tensed to strike — yet as my eyes locked with Lord Silas's, a cold, terrifying certainty settled over me.
He was no mere mortal. Not by a long shot.
The vampire noble stood tall, his elegant crimson cloak swirling like liquid blood. His pale skin shimmered unnaturally under the flickering torchlight, and his eyes burned with an ancient, predatory hunger — a predator who had lived centuries, and who wielded power beyond any blade or spell I could summon.
I was barely a fledgling in comparison.
The ground beneath us trembled as he moved, graceful but deadly. His voice, smooth and cold, sliced through the burning air like a dagger.
"So much fury… so little control. You think raw power alone can defeat me?"
With a flick of his wrist, shadows curled like serpents, twisting into dark blades that hummed with necrotic energy.
I barely dodged as one swept past, carving deep gouges into the scorched floor.
The Hellforged power surged, trying to rally, to strike back, but I was painfully aware of my limitations — this was a battle not just of strength, but of survival.
Every moment, I could feel my grip on the wild magic loosening, threatening to spiral into chaos.
Yet there was no turning back. Auralia's scream echoed in my mind — a promise I could not break.
Clenching my teeth, I braced myself.
This fight would push me beyond everything I had ever known.
The manor's stone walls seemed to close in around us, shadows deepening as Lord Silas prowled like a dark predator in his hunting ground. Every step he took was deliberate, mocking.
His voice cut through the air again, silk wrapped around venom.
"You think yourself special, Warden? A child wielding borrowed power. Such fury, but no mastery. You are chaos incarnate… and chaos can be broken."
I growled, claws scraping the cracked stone floor. The hellforged strength inside me surged, raw and untamed, wild magic flickering like a storm about to erupt. But the more I fought, the more my control slipped.
Focus. Control. You must hold it together.
But the rage bubbling inside was a wildfire, scorching reason with every heartbeat.
Silas struck—fast and precise—his shadow blades slicing through the air, forcing me back. I felt the sting of a wound sear into my arm, but the runic tattoos flared, a living armor that absorbed some of the damage. Still, pain burned like fire, reminding me how outmatched I was.
I snarled and lunged, the broadsword heavy but sure in my grip. Magic crackled from my fingertips uncontrollably, a wild surge that exploded around us in a violent shockwave, throwing dust and debris into the air. Silas stumbled, his amused smile flickering for a heartbeat.
"Impressive," he purred, eyes glinting. "But raw power is a child's toy. You lack discipline, Warden. Let me teach you… or break you."
The words hit like blows, but deeper than the physical wounds was the creeping doubt. Could I truly stand against this ancient force? Was the path I had chosen leading me to ruin?
Yet, beneath the fear, determination blazed. I would not falter. Not now. Not for Auralia.
The wild energy surged again—untamed, dangerous—and I swung my blade with everything I had. Silas parried effortlessly, but I saw a flicker of something—respect? Or curiosity?
The dance continued, a clash of titans mismatched in strength and experience. Silas's taunts were relentless, designed to erode my will, but I held on, refusing to be broken.
You are more than fury. You are the Warden.
The thought steadied me—for a moment.
But as exhaustion and pain crept in, I knew this was only the beginning. The relentless clash echoed through the manor's dark halls—steel meeting shadow, raw power against ancient mastery. Silas's mocking smile never faltered, his eyes burning with cruel amusement as he toyed with me like a cat with a cornered mouse.
But then—a faint sound.
At first, I thought it was the wind whispering through cracked stone. Then a soft cry, distant but urgent. Silas's eyes flicked toward the doorway, just for a heartbeat. His expression shifted—just a fraction—surprise? Concern? Something almost human.
That moment was all I needed.
With a roar, I summoned every ounce of wild, untamed power coursing through me and surged forward, blade blazing with the furious runes. Silas barely had time to raise his defenses before my strike connected, sending a shockwave through the room. He staggered back, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his features.
"Clever," he hissed, regaining his stance. "But don't think this changes anything."
Still, I seized the moment—the fragile crack in his perfect control—and pressed on, determination burning hotter than ever.
Seizing the fleeting distraction, I unleashed a furious barrage—each strike fueled by the wild power surging through my veins. The runes blazing along my arm flared with an intensity I hadn't yet mastered, lighting the chamber with raw energy. Every blow landed with a force that rattled the ancient stones, driving Silas backward step by step. For a brief, thrilling moment, I dared to believe the tide was turning.
But then, with a cruel grin twisting his features, Silas raised a hand, and the air around me thickened—heavy, oppressive, like being dragged through a storm. Before I could react, a violent force slammed into my chest, tearing the breath from my lungs. I flew backward, crashing hard into the cold stone wall. Pain exploded along my back, and stars danced in my vision. The runes on my arm flickered weakly, the raw power inside me momentarily wrenched under his control. Silas stepped forward, eyes gleaming with savage delight.
"You're strong, little Warden," he sneered, voice like grinding stone. "But strength alone won't save you."
Struggling to rise, I knew this battle was far from over—but the crack I'd found was real, and I wasn't done fighting yet.
Breathing hard, sweat mingling with the grime on my skin, I pressed the attack, fueled by desperation and raw power. The runes on my arm pulsed fiercely, but Silas barely flinched. His cold eyes glimmered with amusement—like he was watching a child play with fire. Then, almost suddenly, his expression shifted. A yawn, barely concealed. He took a step back, as if the fight had become a tedious distraction.
"Pathetic," he sneered, voice dripping with disdain. "You're not even close to what I expected."
With a dismissive wave, he turned away from me, his cloak swirling as he strode toward the manor's exit. Before disappearing into the shadows, he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Train harder, Warden. Come back when you're strong enough to be... interesting."
My blood boiled at Silas's taunt. "Interesting," he called me — as if I were some trivial amusement. I clenched my fists, refusing to back down. Rage surged through me, feeding the wild power beneath my skin.
"No," I growled, lunging forward. "I'm not done yet."
But Silas only smiled—a cold, cruel smile. In a heartbeat, he shifted with blinding speed, his strength now a terrifying force beyond anything I'd faced. The air itself seemed to crack as his fist struck, a devastating blow aimed straight for my chest. I barely managed to raise an arm, but the impact shattered my defenses. Pain exploded through me like lightning, and I was sent crashing back, slamming into the stone wall with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs.