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The hollow thrums beneath your skin before you even notice the first tremor. It's subtle at first, a low vibration along the floor, through the walls, through every nerve in your body. But it's enough to make your breath catch.
Azael is already on his feet, blade drawn, moving like he's anticipating the impact before it even happens. His eyes scan the chamber, every shadow, every imperfection in the concrete, every crack that might hide something deadly.
You rise slowly, testing the floor beneath your boots. The vibration grows stronger. It's no longer subtle. It pulses like a heartbeat, rising and falling in irregular rhythm.
"They've found us," you whisper, almost in disbelief.
"They have," Azael replies, voice low but tense. "And they're not holding back this time."
The hollow coils beneath your ribs, ready to explode, warning you of the coming danger. Every fiber of your being screams to move, strike, defend — but you wait. You know patience is just as important as action.
The first figure emerges from the shadows, larger than anything you've faced. Its limbs are jagged, unnatural, moving with a fluidity that defies physics. Energy hums in the air around it, reacting to the hollow like a storm responding to a single spark.
You flare your hands instinctively. Light bursts outward, forming a protective barrier. The Thing slams against it with unnatural force, sending a shockwave through your arms. Sparks fly. Dust rises. Concrete cracks.
"Move!" Azael shouts, charging forward. Steel flashes against shadow. He strikes with precision, cutting through one of the smaller figures that rushes to flank you.
You pivot, striking again with the hollow, energy lashing outward. Another figure lunges at you from the side. You block it instinctively, the hollow flaring to meet its force. The impact sends you staggering, muscles burning, heart hammering.
"They're learning," you gasp between breaths.
"Yes," Azael says, slashing through another figure. "Every strike you make, every motion, every hesitation — they record it. They adapt."
The larger figure lunges again, faster this time, and the hollow screams in response. You meet its strike head-on, energy blasting outward, shaking the chamber. Sparks from metal and concrete fly. Dust fills the air, stinging your eyes.
Azael is beside you now, movements synchronized, every slash of his blade perfectly timed with your energy attacks. Together, you push back the smaller figures, but the larger one remains, relentless, pressing, probing, testing.
Your chest burns. The hollow pulses violently, almost painfully, reacting to every motion, every strike, every heartbeat. You feel it coil and twist inside you, hungry, restless, dangerous.
"Focus!" Azael shouts, blocking a sudden strike from behind. "Don't lose rhythm!"
The figure falters for a fraction of a second. You see it — the imperfection, the gap, the opening. Instinctively, you strike. Energy lashes outward, colliding with the larger figure. It staggers, giving a sharp, unnatural cry. But it doesn't fall.
The remaining smaller figures hesitate, sensing the presence of their leader. The hollow flares in your chest, responding to their coordination, feeding your energy, sharpening your instincts.
"Strike together," Azael commands.
You nod, and without thinking, unleash everything. The hollow surges violently, energy exploding outward, pushing back all the shadows. Azael strikes with precision, cutting through those who dare approach. The chamber shakes with the force of your combined assault. Concrete cracks, metal groans, dust and debris swirl like a storm.
The larger figure falters under the dual assault. Its limbs twitch, uncoordinated for a moment, before regaining balance. It lunges at you again. The hollow flares violently, energy snapping outward like lightning. You meet it head-on, the impact sending pain shooting through your arms and chest.
Azael intercepts another, striking with deadly precision. Sparks fly as steel meets shadow. The figures retreat slightly, reassessing, but the pressure remains. You can feel Kaelthyr's influence pressing through the hollow, distant but undeniable.
The chamber shakes again. The floor beneath you cracks slightly, dust rising in thin columns. The hollow thrums violently, responding to the instability, warning you.
"They're trying to break the ground beneath us," you whisper.
"Yes," Azael says, voice tight. "This is no ordinary strike. They want us destabilized. Physically, mentally… spiritually."
Another wave of smaller figures charges. You flare your hands, energy snapping outward, striking each with precision. The hollow screams in response, surging violently, almost sentient in its movements. You feel it guiding your strikes, pushing, pulling, reacting faster than thought.
The larger figure lunges again, faster, stronger. Its strike hits, and you stagger backward, chest burning, hollow thrumming violently. You barely maintain control.
Azael shouts, "Now! Push harder!"
You channel the hollow fully, energy flaring outward in a violent arc. The larger figure falters again, screaming, retreating slightly. You strike again, hard, precise, relentless. The smaller figures scatter, dissolving into shadows.
Silence falls, heavy, suffocating. Dust and debris hang in the air. Your chest heaves. Muscles tremble. The hollow dims but remains restless, pulsing faintly, waiting for the next wave.
Azael leans against a crate, breathing hard, eyes scanning. "This was only the beginning," he says. "Kaelthyr will adjust. And when he does, the next strike… will be worse."
You press a hand to your chest, feeling the hollow pulse. You know he's right. This wasn't just a strike. It was a warning, a test, a demonstration. Kaelthyr is widening the eye further, preparing the next stage.
Outside, wind rattles the structure, shadows twisting and stretching along the walls. The hollow thrums faintly, almost aware of what's coming. Somewhere far away, Kaelthyr watches, smiling.
You know the fractured ground beneath your feet is only a taste of the chaos to come.
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