The clash of steel and the roar of the beast merged into a single, chaotic storm. Dust swirled in the chamber, stinging Rondan's eyes.
The monolith loomed before him, its black surface alive with pulsing runes, each beat in sync with his own racing heart.
Break it… set us free.
The whisper wasn't just in his mind now—it was in his bones, his blood, his breath.
He gripped his sword tighter, fighting the pull. He didn't know who—or what—was trapped inside, but every instinct told him that whatever it was… it was dangerous.
A sudden shadow fell over him.
The beast had turned its fury on him alone, as if sensing his hesitation. It lunged, jaws wide.
Rondan dove aside, rolling to his feet, but the impact shook the floor. The leader of the cloaked ones took the chance to close in, his blade tracing a line of death through the air.
"You don't understand what you're touching," the man snarled.
"Then explain it!" Rondan barked back.
The man's silence was answer enough.
Steel rang as they clashed again, but Rondan was faster this time, driving him back toward the beast. A calculated step, a feint—and the monster's tail whipped across, catching the leader squarely and hurling him into the far wall.
The monolith's light grew violent.
The ground cracked beneath it.
Rondan's breathing was ragged. He could walk away now, finish the tournament, pretend none of this had happened. But deep down, he knew this was no longer just about the finals.
He raised his sword high.
The whisper surged—no longer desperate, but triumphant.
With a roar, he brought the blade down.
Stone screamed as the monolith split, light exploding outward in a torrent that blinded everyone in the chamber. A shockwave tore through the walls, collapsing the ceiling.
And in the heart of that light… a figure began to emerge.