The cavern reeked of blood and damp stone. Shadows clung to its jagged walls like living things, pulsing with corrupted mana. At its center, a throne of black rock rose, crude but commanding. Upon it sat Andrew.
His hand gripped the Blade of Ruin, the weapon breathing with him, its whispers endless, its hunger insatiable. Its corrupted glow painted his face in hues of violet and black, casting long, jagged shadows. His eyes—once bright, once human—were now crimson orbs filled with venom.
"Andy…" The name burned on his tongue like poison. He spat it into the silence, his voice jagged. "Always chosen. Always ahead. But not anymore."
The blade answered with a low hum, a chorus of hollow voices, echoing promises. "Feed us… bleed them… and you shall rise."
Around him, men and women kneeled in submission. Their bodies trembled, eyes clouded with shadow. Some had been outcasts, others broken soldiers, all now bound to Andrew by the brand seared into their arms: a jagged fang inked in blood.
Andrew rose, lifting the Blade of Ruin. Purple fire licked the edges of the steel.
"From this night forward," his voice boomed, layered with the corruption's echo, "we are no longer weak. We are fangs in the dark. We are ruin incarnate."
The kneeling thralls roared, their voices twisted, echoing like the howls of beasts.
Andrew's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Burn their homes. Tear their families apart. Spread fear until even his name trembles. Let Andy see that I am the end he cannot fight."
The cavern shook with their cries. The Black Fang had risen.
---
Far from that cursed place, the road stretched endlessly beneath the bleeding hues of dusk. Andy and Nia walked side by side, the silence between them heavy with unspoken thoughts. The wind carried the faint tang of smoke, bitter and metallic.
Andy's twin blades—Ember-Edge and Tide-Singer—rested at his sides. His steps were steady, but his chest burned. Ever since the battle with Ashens, something inside him had shifted. The ember had not died with the phoenix—it had lodged itself within him.
At night, in dreams, he heard it. A cry—not only of a dragon, but the song of a phoenix, high and sorrowful. Now, even awake, he felt it stir.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Nia's voice broke the silence.
He turned. Her silver hair shimmered in the dying light, her staff catching faint sparks of mana. Her eyes, though weary, searched his.
Andy exhaled, long and slow. "Yeah. It's here. The ember… Ashens' flame. It's inside me. Sometimes it feels like it'll tear me apart. Sometimes… like it's waiting for something."
Her hand brushed his, warm against the chill wind. "Then we'll face it together. Just like always."
They crested a hill. The horizon opened before them—and froze their steps.
A village lay below. Smoke still curled into the sky. Houses gutted, blackened skeletons against the fading light. The fields that once grew golden now smoldered in ruin. The air was heavy with ash and the stench of charred flesh.
Nia's breath caught. Her staff clattered softly against the dirt. "No…"
Andy's fists clenched. The ember inside flared violently, his chest searing. He forced it down, sweat beading at his temple.
They descended. The closer they drew, the louder the horror became.
A child cried weakly beneath the wreck of a cart. A woman clutched the limp body of her son, her wail hollow, broken. An elder staggered out of the smoke, his arm bleeding, his voice rasping as he whispered: "The fangs… black fangs…" before collapsing into Andy's arms.
Andy lowered him gently, jaw tight. His heart thundered in fury.
Nia knelt by the survivors, her light weaving into their wounds. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Andy… who could do this?"
Andy rose. Flames danced in his gaze, reflected from the burning ruins. His voice was low, edged with steel. "I don't know. But I'll find them. And when I do… they won't leave this world alive."
High above, hidden among the treeline, crimson eyes gleamed. Andrew watched, lips twisted into a cruel smirk. His laughter, soft and cold, bled into the night, lost amid the crackling fire and the sobs of the broken.
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