The beam surged forward like divine punishment unleashed—chaotic and brilliant, a death sentence wrapped in raw, crackling energy. It screamed across the battlefield, locked onto Thea, who stood dazed, eyes barely recovering from her own blinding light spell.
"THEA!" Ryle's voice ripped through the air as he and Dravenith moved at once.
Without a second thought, Ryle threw himself in front of her, his left arm glowing with dragon scales. Dravenith followed, wings spreading as if to form a barrier.
But the impact never came.
The beam—so powerful it had carved through a mountain earlier—simply vanished mid-air.
No sound.
No explosion.
No resistance.
Just… gone.
The world went quiet.
Zer'Kravul froze in place, his grotesque arm twitching as his head jerked from side to side.
In everyone else's eyes, the beam had disappeared like mist.
But in Zer'Kravul's vision, something else appeared.
A dragon's head—massive, spectral, and pulsing with radiant fury—materialized in the space where the beam vanished. Its maw yawned open, and the energy of the blast was devoured like a morsel.
Its eyes… burning yellow.
The same color as Ryle's when enraged.
"No, no, NO—" Zer'Kravul shrieked, stepping back. His entire body trembled.
Everyone watched, stunned, unsure of what was happening.
The Fiend's calm arrogance shattered. Fear took its place.
"No one told me… no one TOLD ME IT'D BE HERE—!"
He turned toward Thea, eyes wide with horror.
Then, like a cornered animal, he lunged.
"Don't!" Dravenith shouted, preparing to intercept.
Too late.
Zer'Kravul was faster now, desperation driving his speed. He snatched one of the Twinlight blades from Thea's stunned grip.
Before anyone could react, he lifted the glowing blade to his lips—
And swallowed it whole.
"Wha—" Ryle started.
Zer'Kravul's body seized.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his throat.
His grotesque arm flailed, the eyes blinking chaotically, some bleeding, some bursting.
His horns cracked.
His skin bubbled.
He screamed.
Not in pain.
In pure, mind-breaking terror.
A pulse of dark gold light erupted from his chest.
Then—
He vanished.
No remains. No corpse. No fragments of the Twinlight.
Only silence.
And shock.
Everyone stood still. Even the wind held its breath.
Thea fell to her knees, staring at her now single sword.
Dravenith blinked rapidly, lips parted in disbelief.
Ryle lowered his guard, still watching the space where Zer'Kravul once stood.
"…Did he die?" Dravenith whispered, breath catching.
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
Far away, in a realm untouched by time, a castle of nightmares loomed atop a mountain carved from petrified screams. Its towers twisted like spires of bone and shadow, and the sky above was blood-red, unmoving.
At the heart of this void stood a colossal throne—black stone polished with sorrow, surrounded by whispers that cut like blades.
Figures wept, laughed, and screamed in silence, chained in ethereal cages along the throne room walls.
Then—
A sound.
Like the heartbeat of the universe, pulsing once.
And a figure emerged.
Tall.
Cloaked in robes woven from nightmare and void.
Two massive horns, shaped like jagged obsidian trees, curved upward from his head. He had no face, only shadow and shifting depth.
Floating just above his left shoulder was a single, disembodied eye—a perfect sphere that blinked once every few seconds.
He stood before the throne, hand outstretched.
In his palm rested the Twinlight—but it was changed.
No longer silver and holy.
Now, it was corrupted.
Twisted.
The blade pulsed with dark gold light, veins of shadow crawling through its metal, like a holy relic suffocating in malice.
He tilted his head.
The eye above his shoulder blinked.
The throne whispered in tongues not meant for mortals.
And the figure—the Demon General of Fiend—spoke.
"Let the world fear light again…"
He lifted the corrupted Twinlight skyward.
"…the war begins soon."