The skies above the Rift tore open like a wound in reality, bleeding streams of crimson lightning into the blackened clouds. The air was heavy, charged with a pressure that made even seasoned warriors shudder. Beneath this ominous storm, Altharion stood at the precipice, his cloak billowing like living shadow, eyes burning with cold determination.
His enemies poured from the fractured gateway—creatures formed of twisted bone and void essence, their screeches warping the very air. The ground trembled as each abomination landed, sending cracks rippling toward him.
"Perfect," Altharion murmured, raising his palm. His qi surged—dense, refined, and dark as midnight—infused with blood magic's crimson threads. A vortex of shadow spiraled around him, whispering in an ancient tongue. With a thought, the shadows erupted into jagged spears that impaled the first wave of monsters before they could even roar.
One beast, larger than the rest, charged through the storm of spears, its hide glistening with obsidian scales. Altharion's eyes narrowed. He vanished in a blur, reappearing atop the creature's head, his blade dripping with condensed qi. With a single downward slash, the weapon cleaved through skull and spine, the beast collapsing in a lifeless heap before it even knew it was dead.
From the Rift's center, a chilling presence emerged—an armored warlord, twice Altharion's size, wielding a weapon forged from pure void. "Shadow Prince," the warlord growled, voice like grinding stone. "Your blood will seal the gateway for eternity."
Altharion smirked. "You can try."
The warlord swung his massive blade, tearing through the ground in an arc of black fire. Altharion slid backward, shadows flaring from his feet, deflecting the strike with a wall of condensed qi. Sparks of crimson and obsidian danced in the air as their auras collided.
He retaliated with Blood Rift Slash, a technique forbidden in most sects. His blade split into five phantom copies, each striking from a different angle. The warlord blocked three—two cut through his armor, spraying void ichor across the battlefield. The smell of burning void-flesh filled the air.
But the warlord laughed, grabbing Altharion by the throat with unnatural speed. "Too slow!"
In that instant, Altharion dissolved into black mist. The warlord's grip closed on nothing but air. The mist reformed behind him, and Altharion's dagger plunged into the gap between the armored plates of his back. Shadow qi flooded the wound, eating away at flesh and bone alike.
The warlord staggered but roared, summoning a pillar of void flame that blasted Altharion across the field. Altharion landed hard, coughing blood—but his eyes burned brighter. He could feel it now, the gateway's pulse syncing with his own heartbeat.
If he destroyed the warlord here, the Rift might collapse.
Drawing a deep breath, Altharion activated Blood Eclipse, merging his qi and blood magic into one devastating surge. His entire body became a silhouette against the storm, eyes glowing like two eclipsed suns. The shadows on the battlefield began to writhe, stretching toward him as if alive, feeding his power.
The warlord charged, roaring.
Altharion's form blurred. Time itself seemed to slow as he weaved between strikes, each movement leaving behind ghostly afterimages. His final step brought him within arm's reach—his sword igniting in a black-red blaze.
"Fade into nothing," Altharion whispered.
The blade pierced the warlord's chest, shadow qi exploding outward in a storm of blades. The warlord's body shattered into fragments of void glass, which dissolved into the air.
The Rift began to collapse, the skies lightening as the crimson lightning faded. Altharion stood in the silence, breathing heavily, his cloak still fluttering though no wind remained.
But his expression darkened. In the Rift's fading echo, he had felt another presence—stronger, older, and far more dangerous.
This battle was only the first.