Morix stepped onto the battlefield, and the war seemed to hesitate.
Not stop. Not retreat.
Hesitate.
The air around him vibrated, crimson lightning sliding calmly along his arms, no longer wild, no longer unstable. His breathing was steady. His gaze was clear. The Wrath was there, but it was leashed.
Lucia followed a few steps behind him, heart pounding so hard she felt dizzy.
"Morix…" she whispered again, as if saying his name might anchor him to this world.
He glanced back once.
Just once.
His eyes softened when they met hers.
"I'm here," he said quietly. "I won't lose myself again."
Her knees nearly gave out.
Facilia watched closely, eyes sharp, senses stretched thin. "He's not suppressing Wrath," she murmured. "He's… aligning with it."
Rales heard her as he forced himself back to his feet, blood dripping from his chin. He laughed breathlessly.
"Of course he is," he muttered. "That stubborn bastard never does anything halfway."
The Gore Titan finally moved.
It turned its massive head toward Morix, red symbols burning brighter across its obsidian armor. The creature released a roar so loud it flattened nearby tents and sent loose weapons skidding across the dirt.
Morix didn't flinch.
He simply rolled his shoulders and reached behind his back.
His sword slid free with a clean metallic whisper.
Not flashy. Not dramatic.
Just confident.
Damion felt it then.
That familiar tightening in his chest.
That burning twist.
He stood atop a mound of demon corpses, blade dripping violet light, breathing hard. Soldiers nearby stared at him with awe, fear, admiration.
And yet.
Their eyes kept drifting.
Toward Morix.
The hooded figure leaned closer, voice smooth and intimate.
"There it is," the shadow whispered. "That look again. Like he's the sun and you're just another star."
Damion's jaw clenched.
"I'm stronger now," he muttered. "They saw me. They fear me."
The shadow chuckled softly.
"They fear him more."
Damion's grip tightened on his sword.
On the battlefield, the Gore Titan charged.
The ground cracked under its steps, massive blade swinging down with enough force to split a fortress wall.
"Morix!" Lucia shouted.
Morix stepped forward.
He didn't dodge.
He raised his sword and met the blow head-on.
The impact sent a shockwave racing outward, flattening demons and throwing soldiers off their feet. The ground shattered beneath Morix's boots, but he held.
The Titan staggered back.
Rales stared. "He stopped it… clean."
Facilia whispered, almost reverent, "That's sword mastery. Perfect force distribution. No wasted movement."
Morix exhaled slowly.
"You're loud," he said to the Titan. "But you're sloppy."
The Titan roared and swung again, faster this time, blade coming from the side.
Morix stepped inside the swing.
His sword flashed once.
The Titan's arm froze.
Then slid clean off at the elbow.
Black blood sprayed like rain.
The demon screamed.
Morix didn't stop.
He moved.
Every step precise. Every strike controlled.
He cut tendons, shattered joints, sliced through armor like it was cloth. Each blow landed exactly where it needed to, no more, no less.
Lucia watched, breath caught in her throat.
This wasn't the raging storm from before.
This was something worse.
This was calm destruction.
Damion watched too.
And envy burned hotter.
"Look at them," the shadow whispered. "They're already celebrating him."
Damion snarled. "I'm fighting too."
"Yes," the shadow agreed softly. "But you're not winning their hearts."
Morix ducked under a desperate swing and drove his blade into the Titan's knee. The massive creature crashed down, shaking the earth.
It tried to rise.
Morix placed his boot on its chest.
Lightning crackled softly around him.
"Tell Mammon," he said coldly, "that Elydria does not fall."
He drove his sword down.
The Gore Titan went still.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield was silent.
Then Elydrian soldiers erupted.
Cheers. Shouts. Cries of relief.
Rales laughed openly now, leaning on his spear. "That's my general."
Lucia ran to Morix, stopping just short of him, hands trembling.
"Are you okay?" she asked quickly. "Does it hurt? Are you—"
He interrupted by resting his forehead against hers.
"I'm okay," he said softly. "I can hear myself again."
Her breath hitched.
Behind them, Facilia allowed herself a small smile.
But the war wasn't done.
A fresh wave of demonic troops surged from the collapsing portals, howling in rage.
Rales straightened immediately.
"All units!" he shouted. "Push forward! Break them while their morale is shattered!"
Damion launched himself into the fray with a scream, blade flaring brighter than ever.
The shadow laughed.
"Yes," it whispered. "Drown it all out. Prove you matter."
Damion fought like a madman, every strike lethal, every movement fueled by something dark and sharp. Demons fell in heaps around him.
Soldiers began to notice.
They started cheering his name.
Damion felt a surge of triumph.
"You see?" he hissed under his breath. "They're looking at me now."
The shadow smiled beneath the hood.
"For now."
Morix fought again, but differently this time. He moved with his soldiers, covering weak points, cutting through enemy lines with clean efficiency.
Rales watched him carefully.
He leaned toward Facilia. "He's holding back."
Facilia nodded. "Because if he doesn't, Wrath will take the reins again."
Rales exhaled. "Then let's finish this before he has to stop holding back."
The sky darkened as the last major demonic commander emerged, shrieking orders in a twisted tongue.
Morix felt Wrath stir.
He tightened his grip.
"Not yet," he muttered to himself.
Damion saw the commander too.
And something inside him snapped.
"That should be mine," he growled. "They'll cheer him again."
The shadow leaned close, voice a whisper in his soul.
"Then don't let them."
Damion turned.
His eyes locked briefly with Morix's across the battlefield.
For a split second, something passed between them.
Recognition.
Rivalry.
Something ugly.
Morix frowned.
"Rales," he said quietly. "Watch Damion."
Rales followed his gaze and stiffened.
"Damn it," he muttered. "He's losing himself."
Facilia's expression darkened. "Envy feeds on comparison. On attention. On resentment."
Morix's jaw tightened.
Before he could move, Damion charged the demonic commander alone, screaming, blade blazing.
The shadow laughed.
"Yes," it whispered. "Take it. Take everything."
The war raged on, but its end was visible now.
Elydria was winning.
And yet.
Something far more dangerous than demons was beginning to grow.
Not on the battlefield.
But inside a prince's heart.
Far above them, unseen, crimson lightning flickered once more across the clouds.
Wrath watched.
Envy smiled