The air cracked.
The temple's walls trembled.
And from the shattered altar, a storm of void energy surged upward like a reversed maelstrom. The eye—monstrous, lidless, hollow—hovered in the air above the shattered seal, radiating pressure so intense the stone beneath Ael's feet began to sink and melt.
"Fall back!" Elric shouted, hurling a shield rune into the ground.
The magic sparked, a dome of golden light forming just as tendrils of shadow lashed out from the void. They struck the barrier, and the sound—like metal screaming—echoed through the entire temple.
Ael didn't move.
He stared into that single, impossibly large eye. His breath slowed. The world faded to silence. Even the battle behind him became distant.
Then he heard the voice.
Not through his ears.
Through his mind.
You are broken, King of Men.You were discarded, unloved, forgotten.You seek purpose now?Give me your name, and I will grant you power.
Ael stood in the void's gaze, unmoving. The presence felt eternal—like staring into judgment itself. Not hatred. Not anger.
Indifference.
"I don't need your power," Ael said quietly. "I have something better."
What, then? What can a hollow vessel offer?
Ael lifted his sword, pointing it at the eye.
"A choice."
With a cry, he lunged forward, slicing through one of the tendrils coiled near the seal. The moment his blade struck, a shockwave blasted through the chamber. The eye recoiled, and the entire temple howled like it was alive.
"Ael!" Arienne shouted from behind. "We need to break the anchors! They're keeping the gate open!"
Elric, crouched beside the seal, pointed to four obelisks surrounding the altar. "They're acting as pylons! Void-tethered. Break them and the gate collapses!"
"I'll hold the eye!" Ael yelled.
"No," Arienne said, stepping beside him. "We will."
Without hesitation, she leapt into the fray, her twin blades alight with holy flame.
Lyra darted toward the nearest obelisk, disappearing into shadow. In a blink, she was scaling the pillar, daggers drawn, slicing through the pulsing runes.
Elric held the center, maintaining the barrier and sending bursts of radiant energy at the tendrils trying to reach them.
Ael fought like a storm.
The tendrils struck faster, dozens at once—some tipped with blades, others with teeth. But he moved like a phantom, weaving between them, his blade singing as it severed limb after limb.
But it wasn't enough.
The gate pulsed again.
And from the depths of the void, something larger began to emerge.
A hand—towering, skeletal, wrapped in chains and shadows—clawed its way upward.
"No," Elric gasped. "He's forcing a partial manifestation."
Arienne gritted her teeth. "We're running out of time!"
Lyra brought down the second obelisk. "Two left!"
Elric began chanting a greater banishment rune. His hands bled from the effort, golden light dripping from his fingertips.
"I can collapse the seal," he shouted, "but I'll need cover!"
Ael nodded. "Go. I'll handle the rest."
He charged the third obelisk himself. As he neared it, a tendril slammed into him, flinging him across the room. He crashed into a pillar, blood spraying from his mouth.
"Ael!" Arienne screamed, but she couldn't reach him—five tendrils were pinning her down.
Ael staggered to his feet, his bones screaming. His sword lay feet away.
And the void spoke again.
You bleed. You suffer. You are alone.
"No," Ael whispered, dragging himself forward.
Why fight for a world that abandoned you?
He reached for his blade.
And then—he saw something.
In his mind. A flicker. A memory not his own, but one he had felt.
A child's hand reaching for him.
A woman smiling.
Companions standing by his side.
He wasn't alone.
He hadn't been alone for a long time.
"I fight…" he growled, standing tall, "…because they're worth it."
He seized his sword and drove it through the third obelisk.
It shattered in an eruption of crimson energy.
Lyra was already on the last one, her daggers driving into its core. She leapt back just before it exploded, rolling to safety as voidfire ripped through the chamber.
The gate began to destabilize.
The eye writhed.
The hand screamed.
And Elric unleashed the full force of his banishment spell.
Light—pure, searing, divine—poured into the room. The seal cracked, then shattered completely. The presence of the Executioner was ripped backward, the tendrils severed, the eye closing in a last, silent gaze of hate.
Then—
Silence.
The temple collapsed inward, the void gate gone.
And the four of them stood in the wreckage.
Alive.
Barely.
Breathing.
"Is it over?" Lyra coughed.
"No," Ael said, slowly sheathing his sword. "It's just begun."