The first light of dawn barely pierced the heavy clouds hanging over the ruined city. Inside the rebel camp, carved deep beneath cracked concrete and rusted rails, the world felt still — except for Valen Creed.
Alone in the training arena, Valen's breath came in steady rhythm. The cold air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. His eyes, dark and intense, glowed faintly with the pulse of the Echo of the End that shimmered beneath his pale skin.
He lifted his hand slowly, watching the dark energy swirl and fold like smoke. It was alive. Fluid. Yet stubborn. Unruly.
Control. That was what he needed.
He summoned a thin blade of black light, sharp as a razor. It flickered uncertainly in his palm, shadows twisting along its edge. He swung it through the air, slicing invisible threads.
The blade dissolved.
Valen's jaw tightened. He clenched his fist.
"You're not ready yet," he muttered.
The Echo responded faintly, like a whisper at the edge of hearing.
He tried again. Focused. This time the blade stayed solid for a heartbeat longer before shattering.
Valen stepped back, sweat dampening his pale forehead. The Mark of Extinction on his forearm throbbed — a faint glow in the dim light.
The cursed sigil was a reminder. Not just of death, but of the hunt.
He was marked. A beacon to the Riftborn.
And they were coming.
Suddenly, a hurried voice broke the quiet.
"Valen! Scouts spotted Riftborn Elite approaching—fast!"
Kira's sharp voice echoed through the stone tunnels.
Valen's head snapped up. His black eyes sharpened.
He dropped the remnants of his broken blade.
"Prepare the camp," he said, voice low but steady.
The rebels moved quickly, hardened and silent. Weapons were drawn. Positions taken.
Kira came to Valen's side, her fiery gaze locking with his.
"You ready for this?" she asked.
Valen didn't answer. His mind was already calculating.
"We'll need to hold the outer wall. I'll lead a defensive line with my Echo shields," he said.
Kira nodded, her coal-black eyes flickering with respect and worry.
"Good. The Riftborn won't expect your kind of defense. Use it."
Outside, the sky was fractured, cracked wide with jagged lines of bleeding light and shadow — a scar from the apocalypse that still bled its poison into the world.
The ground trembled faintly.
Then, they appeared.
Riftborn Elite soldiers — tall, twisted figures cloaked in armor that seemed to shift and ripple like living darkness. Their eyes glowed red, filled with savage hunger.
At their front strode the Elite Commander.
His presence was a storm — raw power wrapped in lethal grace.
The rebels braced.
Valen raised his palm.
Black energy rippled out, shaping into a wide shimmering shield. It hummed with quiet menace.
The Riftborn charged.
Claws and blades struck the barrier, sending shocks through Valen's arms.
Cracks spider-webbed across the shield, but it held.
Nearby rebels surged forward, weapons flashing.
Valen formed another construct — a dagger of pure shadow light. He thrust it at a charging enemy. The blade pierced armor and dissolved the creature into black mist.
Around him, the battle was chaos and violence, but Valen fought with a strange calm — a ghost of the future moving among the living.
But the fight wasn't without cost.
The Elite Commander locked eyes with Valen.
With a sudden motion, he lunged.
Valen barely raised his shield in time, but a dark spear of cursed energy broke through the barrier and struck his forearm — right on the Mark of Extinction.
Pain exploded through Valen's body, hot and deep.
The sigil flared bright red, burning like fire beneath his skin.
The curse wasn't just a mark. It was a weapon — one designed to hunt, weaken, and destroy.
Valen gritted his teeth, fighting through the agony.
The Commander sneered, retreating into the shadows.
"You cannot hide, ghost," his voice hissed.
The rebels fought back fiercely, rallying behind Valen's defense.
But the scar of the cursed strike lingered.
The battlefield grew silent as the Riftborn withdrew, leaving wounded and wary survivors behind.
Kira approached, eyes scanning Valen's arm.
"That curse… it's worse than we feared," she said grimly.
Valen flexed his fingers, the pain still burning.
"It means they're hunting me now," he said quietly.
Kira's face hardened. "Then we fight smarter. We fight harder."
As night fell, the camp settled into uneasy quiet.
Valen sat alone, staring at the glowing Mark.
His mind raced.
The curse was a shadow tied to his very being, a ticking countdown.
But it also drove something deeper inside him — a bond to the Echo of the End, strange and powerful.
He wasn't just a survivor anymore.
He was the hunted.
And a shield.
Outside, the broken city breathed its ghostly breath — the battlefield of past and future.
Valen clenched his fists, the black energy pulsing in his veins.
The Echo whispered.
Not just a power.
A promise.
The war was far from over.
And he would be ready.