The battlefield exploded into motion.
Egmund's form tore across the space between them like a comet—every step shaking the crimson ground. Aden barely had time to react. He twisted, narrowly dodging a massive clawed strike that shattered the air behind him, sending a shockwave that turned distant corpses to dust.
He skidded backward, boots digging into the ash, eyes narrowed.
This was no illusion.
The pain, the pressure—it was real. Egmund wasn't just a memory. He was here.
And he wanted control.
"You cling to human pride," Egmund growled, stalking forward. "But you're no different from me. You were born of blood, forged in violence."
Aden answered by dashing forward—his blade, already drawn, blazed with the Way of Fire. Sparks danced across the battlefield. He struck once, twice—blindingly fast.
But Egmund blocked them both with a single hand.
A clawed gauntlet closed around Aden's wrist.
Then, crack.
Pain. Real. His arm almost snapped as he was hurled through the air.
He smashed into a mound of corpses. Bones and metal scattered. Blood poured from his mouth as he rolled to a stop.
Outside the chamber—
Suddenly, the entire chamber shook.
From the sealed door, a wave of bloodlust burst outward like a volcano. The Black Knights immediately drew their weapons, instinctively forming a perimeter.
Ian's eyes widened. "This bloodlust... it's suffocating."
One of the Black Knights trembled. "to even have this much energy...."
Rudeus placed a hand on his sword. "If he transforms—if Egmund breaks loose—we end this."
Zwalter didn't move. His gaze stayed fixed on the door.
"Wait."
Back inside—
Aden rose to his feet, teeth gritted, blood trickling down his brow.
Egmund loomed over him now, wings of shadow unfurling behind his back. Each step he took left molten footprints in the ash.
"Come, heir of Wrath," Egmund said mockingly. "Show me what you are without me."
Aden's eyes burned. His body ached. But his will didn't break.
He surged forward. This time he had something up his sleeve.
The Steps of WindGod - verse 6. Way of Fire - Ultimate Attack.
His body blurred—speed and flame weaving together like poetry in motion.
He slashed across Egmund's flank—a direct hit. The first.
Aden moved again, as fast as it seemed like he was teleporting, he reached behind Egmund again this time aimed for his heart.
Egmund growled, spinning with monstrous speed and backhanding Aden with a force that cracked bone.
Again, he crashed to the ground, ribs shattered, lungs crushed.
Blood filled his throat.
And in that moment—as darkness began to close in—a whisper echoed in his mind.
"…pain will bring you back…"
Rudeus' words. And then—something else.
A memory.
A hand reaching for him.
A voice—his father's, from the letter.
"You were never meant to be consumed by fire. You were meant to forge it."
Aden's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't done.
Pain was everywhere. In his breath. In his bones. In the silence between heartbeats.
But as Aden pushed himself to his knees, the battlefield around him seemed to still. The burning wind slowed. The sky, once a whirl of red and black, faded into twilight. Time itself hesitated.
And Egmund paused, sensing the change.
"You still rise?" the demon sneered. "With shattered ribs and a fading spark? Pathetic."
Aden wiped the blood from his mouth, rising fully now. Broken, yes—but something else stirred in him.
Outside the chamber—
The runes around the chamber flared blood-red.
Inside the sealed door, Aden's bloodlust shifted—twisting, evolving. It wasn't just rage anymore.
It was overflowing.
One of the Black Knights stumbled back. "What… is that?"
Ian's knuckles whitened around his blade. "His wrath—it's changing."
Rudeus said nothing. But he stepped back.
Then suddenly—a wave of silence. No pulse. No aura.
Then came a whisper across the chamber's walls:
"KNEEL."
Inside—
Egmund stepped back for the first time.
Aden's aura no longer lashed like wildfire—it compressed, tight and dense, like a coiled serpent ready to strike. His body bled shadows. His eyes—black with white pupils—burned with clarity.
"You feared this day, didn't you?" Aden said, stepping forward. "When i finally kill you."
Egmund roared—more beast than man now. Wings expanded. Claws burned. He lunged again, a blur of killing instinct.
But this time, Aden was faster.
He sidestepped, letting the momentum pass him, then slashed upward—a clean, brutal arc of fire and wind.
A wound opened across Egmund's chest.
The demon howled.
Memories—Egmund's own—flashed across his eyes. A battlefield long buried. A warrior with silver hair, fire in his sword, and a face similar to Aden's.
"No... not again!" Egmund's voice cracked. "You're.."
Aden's voice was cold, unrelenting. "I'm not him."
Another slash. A knee to Egmund's gut. A spinning cut that drove him down.
"I'm worse."
On the brink—
Egmund collapsed to one knee, his massive body twitching under the weight of Aden's onslaught.
"You've won…" he rasped, blood oozing from his mouth. "But do you understand what comes next?"
Aden approached, sword raised.
But Egmund didn't resist. He looked up, eyes glowing faintly—no longer with hatred, but calculation.
"If you kill me," Egmund said, "you lose the Wrath. It dies with me. The strength your bloodline forged over centuries—gone."
Aden didn't flinch.
"And if I don't?"
Egmund's smirk returned. "You spare me… I give you everything. Not just Wrath—my Authority. Power that shook kingdoms. All yours."
"But I stay," he added. "Inside you. Dormant… until I'm strong again. And then, someday, you can try to kill me once more."
Aden's sword hovered at Egmund's throat.
He hesitated.
The price was steep. The risk enormous.
But the power… unimaginable.
"And what's the other power you mentioned?" Aden asked quietly.
Egmund's grin widened.
"Fear."
"True, soul-breaking Fear. Not illusion. Not emotion. A command written into your enemies' bones."
Aden stared for a long time.
Then slowly—he lowered the blade.
"Then prove it," he said.
A contract burned into existence between them—black fire and crimson chains swirling, binding soul to soul.
Egmund's body dissolved. His essence curled into Aden's chest—a searing mark over his heart.
And then—darkness.