The Gravehounds stood at the tunnel's edge, still as statues.Their armor was dark and sharp, carved with runes that pulsed like dying embers.
Five of them. No words. No breath. Just waiting.
One stepped forward. His helmet had no face—only a hollow void.
"You wield an Echo Relic," he said. His voice was dry, dead. "Surrender it. Or be erased."
Vael's grip tightened on the black blade. "Try me."
The air twisted.
They moved—too fast.
A soldier lunged. A silver spear shot for Vael's chest.
He twisted, barely dodging. The light grazed his arm, burning.
Lira fired an arrow. Another soldier vanished——then reappeared beside her. A strike sent her flying into the wall.
Vael turned to help—Too slow.
A sword came down at his head.
Steel clashed. The stranger blocked it in time. "Focus!"
Vael growled. The shadows in him answered.His limbs felt light. The hunger returned.
He vanished.
Then—he struck.
The blade carved through armor. Black veins spread fast.The soldier gasped—then turned to dust.
The others froze.
Vael smiled.The crown whispered.
"Kill him," the leader ordered.
They charged.
Vael's shadows lashed out, sharp and wild. One soldier vanished into the dark.His scream didn't last.
Lira, staggering up, fired again—An arrow buried into a soldier's throat. He dropped.
The stranger cut another down with cold precision. "We'll take the rest," he said."You—go for the leader."
Vael turned toward the visorless one.The one who hadn't moved.
Power bled from him—heavier than the rest.
Vael stepped forward. Shadows crawled at his heels.
The leader raised a hand. "You belong to the dark now."
His runes flared.
Light swallowed everything.
And Vael felt himself fall.