Blue fire crackled and twisted across the cobblestones, eating away at market stalls and buildings. What had once been a place of laughter and trade was now a smoldering ruin. In the center of it all stood a lone figure in silver robes, white hair flowing like silk, and eyes that gleamed with ancient cruelty.
Zane stood facing him, breathing hard, his fists clenched.
This wasn't like anything he'd faced before. The pressure alone was suffocating. Each breath felt like dragging broken glass through his throat.
Still, he didn't run.
Not when lives were at stake.
Not when Sera was in danger.
"You," Zane growled. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't respond. Instead, he raised a hand slowly—almost lazily—and pointed a single finger at Zane.
In an instant, a wave of blue flames exploded outward.
Zane reacted just in time, drawing upon his Void energy.
Black tendrils spiraled up his arms and body, forming a sleek carapace of shifting shadows. The fire met it with a deafening hiss, the magical flames clawing at the darkness—but the armor held, just barely.
The system's voice echoed in his mind:
> [Skill Activated: Void Step]
Zane blinked forward, reappearing behind the figure, his Endblade already summoned in hand. A blur of motion—he slashed at the enemy's back.
Like steel striking a mountain. The sword bounced off harmlessly. The figure didn't even flinch.
The silver-robed enemy turned, and with a flick of his wrist, a ring of blue fire erupted at Zane's feet. He leapt back—but not fast enough. The heat licked at his shadow armor, melting parts of it clean off. He skidded across the ground, gritting his teeth.
"Voids Eye!" Zane shouted, trying to analyze the figure.
[Warning: Target is classified as an Anomaly-Class Entity. Power Level: Unknown. Threat Level: Lethal.]
Throwing shurikens of void-infused shadow, forming spears and daggers from the air, using every trick Nyx had taught him.
Still—nothing worked.
Each attack was batted aside like an annoying fly. Each dodge became slower. Zane was running out of energy, his vision blurring, breath ragged.
Then came the real blow.
The figure vanished, reappearing above Zane. With one glowing palm, he slammed down—blue fire exploding beneath it.
Zane's armor shattered. He was flung like a ragdoll, crashing into stone, ribs cracking. Blood splattered from his mouth as he groaned, barely able to move.
The figure walked toward him casually, fire still dancing at his fingertips.
"Hm. You're stronger than I expected. But still... pathetic."
Zane tried to rise, but his legs gave out.
"I wonder..." the figure mused. "What would happen... if your little girlfriend suddenly disappeared?"
Zane's blood ran cold. "Don't... touch her."
But the man simply smiled, vanishing in a blink of silver flame.
Moments later, screaming erupted in the distance.
Zane's heart pounded. His vision blurred again. The world spun.
He tried to stand—but something was already rising inside him.
A cold, alien sensation, as if something ancient had been watching—waiting.
A sound like cracking glass, a whisper that wasn't a whisper.
Zane's eyes rolled back. Then slowly, eerily, they turned pitch black. He stood—not like a man, but like a puppet pulled upward by invisible strings.
The shadows around him coiled like snakes, twitching and flaring. The blue flames surrounding him flickered—and then turned black, devouring the very light around them.
A black crown of thorns shimmered into being above Zane's head, spinning slowly—ominously. The ground beneath him cracked.
Zane's mouth didn't move, but a deep, echoing voice spilled from him:
> "You dared to touch what is MINE."