Aftermath

Shaun's fists clenched tighter, trembling from the strain. The oppressive presence of Warden pressed down like an unrelenting storm, and the swarm of moths gnawed at his body with merciless hunger. Every nerve screamed in agony, his battered frame on the brink of collapse. Yet, his spirit burned—a defiant flame refusing to be extinguished.

"Three minutes," Shaun rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper yet steady with determination. "That's all I have. Whether I survive or not, I need to ascend now. It's my only chance."

Warden loomed, an immovable force of malice and raw power. His posture was almost casual, yet the aura surrounding him radiated suffocating hostility. He tilted his head, scrutinizing Shaun with a predator's curiosity.

"You're still clinging to hope?" Warden's voice carried both mockery and intrigue, echoing like rolling thunder. "I've crushed men far stronger than you. Yet here you stand, defying reason. What drives you, boy? Pride? Fear? Or is it sheer stubbornness?"

Shaun offered no response. Words were a luxury he couldn't afford. His entire being focused inward, channeling every fragment of energy into the delicate process of severing his connection to his decaying body. His aura shimmered, unstable but relentless, flickering like a lone candle braving the storm.

But Warden wasn't one to wait. With a speed that shattered the ground beneath him, he closed the distance in a heartbeat. His fist, radiating destructive energy, surged toward Shaun like a meteor.

Focus. Detach.

Shaun reacted, raising the remnants of his aura as a shield. The force of the impact shattered the barrier instantly, but the fleeting resistance bought him a fraction of a second. Twisting his battered frame with the aid of aura manipulation, he narrowly evaded the lethal strike.

"You're still resisting?!" Warden's laugh was a deep, resonant roar, tinged with savage delight. "Then let's end this charade."

The battlefield erupted in chaos. Warden unleashed a devastating assault, fire erupting in torrents, oppressive waves of his aura crashing against the air like tidal waves. Lances of earth shot from the ground, targeting Shaun with unrelenting precision.

Shaun's battered body moved instinctively, weaving through the onslaught with diminishing grace. He countered with bursts of aura, shadows flaring into temporary shields, only to shatter under the force of Warden's attacks. An ice beam shot forward, annihilating one of the projectiles, but it wasn't enough.

One of the lances pierced through Shaun's side, tearing a chunk of his body away. Pain exploded in his mind, but he didn't falter. He clenched his jaw, pouring every ounce of willpower into keeping his focus.

"Two minutes," he hissed, blood staining his lips.

Warden, unfazed, raised his hand. The fire surrounding him condensed into blazing projectiles that ignited the ground, scorching everything in their path. Shaun dodged desperately, his aura a thin veil barely holding him together. His movements grew sluggish, his breaths ragged.

With a flick of Warden's clawed hand, a massive energy wave crashed toward Shaun, severing his right arm completely. Shaun barely registered the loss. His mind was consumed by the ticking seconds, his spirit fighting to ascend beyond the confines of his deteriorating body.

"One minute," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Warden moved again, faster than thought, his claw glowing with a sinister light. Shaun's instincts screamed, but his body was too slow. In one decisive motion, Warden's claw slashed through the air, severing Shaun's head from his shoulders.

For an instant, the world seemed to hold its breath. Shaun's decapitated body crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.

Warden straightened, his gaze cold and impassive as he surveyed his handiwork. But something was off. A faint shimmer surrounded Shaun's fallen form, a flicker of energy that defied the finality of death.

Warden's eyes narrowed. "What trick is this?"

Shaun had prepared three defensive mechanisms for situations where survival seemed impossible. Each defense was a desperate measure, designed to activate only when he faced an attack he couldn't counter or escape. The first defense, Reversal, reflected all damage and effects back to the attacker. It had worked against the Warden once but failed against the swarm of Moths. Their sheer numbers and chaotic nature rendered the technique ineffective. The second defense, Invasion, activated when Shaun suffered unavoidable damage. This ability cursed the attacker, ravaging their body with destructive energy while transferring vitality back to Shaun to heal him. Yet, against the Moths, this too failed; their cursed energy backfired, amplifying the destruction and overwhelming him.

The third and final defense lay dormant, a last resort for situations of absolute desperation. When no other options remained, and death was imminent, Blight Catalyst unleashed its cataclysmic potential. Shaun's body melted into raw energy, triggering an eruption of corrosive power that obliterated everything in its radius. Organic, inorganic, magical—nothing was spared. The ground boiled and cracked under the wave of black and green energy, leaving behind a barren wasteland reeking of acidic fumes.

The Warden, witnessing the devastation, narrowly survived by harnessing his ethereal warding shields and teleportation. His Moths, however, were not as fortunate. The corrosive energy consumed them entirely, turning the swarm into a vapor of volatile ash. The Warden, though shaken, stood amidst the destruction, his aura flickering as he prepared for what came next.

The silence after Shaun's death was deafening, broken only by the crackling of the cursed energy eating away at the land. The Warden stood amidst the ruin, his usually impenetrable armor of mana flickering weakly. The corrosive mist lingered, gnawing at his barriers, his flesh, and even his reserves of magic. The cursed energy seeped into him like a parasite, draining his vitality and leaving his once-formidable aura sputtering. His breaths came shallow, each one tasting of acid and despair.

The landscape around him was unrecognizable. Trees, stone, and even magic itself had been consumed, leaving nothing but a jagged wasteland of ash and acrid fumes. The Warden felt the weight of the curse tightening around him, a sinister grip threatening to snuff him out. His Moths, his loyal creations, were gone, obliterated in the eruption. His strength waned as the cursed energy gnawed relentlessly at his defenses. Even his mana—his lifeline—was dwindling, consumed by the voracious blight.

He staggered, forcing himself upright. He had survived worse, but this felt different. This was an annihilation meant to erase not just life, but existence itself. It was as though the curse sought to unmake everything that stood in its path. He couldn't allow it to spread further.

With the remnants of his strength, the Warden conjured a Divine Lance, a weapon forged of light and purity. Its brilliance cut through the choking haze, its energy burning away the cursed mist as he raised it above his head. But the effort nearly broke him—his weakened state made the lance unstable, its power as dangerous to him as to the curse. He muttered an incantation under his breath, the words laced with both desperation and resolve, and hurled the lance into the heart of the cursed land.

The explosion was both blinding and deafening. A radiant wave of divine energy surged outward, obliterating the curse. The air cleared, the acrid stench dissipating into nothingness. The Warden fell to one knee, coughing up blood as the remnants of the curse clawed at his insides. The lance had purged the land, but not without consequence. The backlash tore through him, amplifying the effects of the curse that still lingered in his body. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought it was over.

But then he felt it.

A tremor. A pulse. A presence that froze the blood in his veins.

Unbeknownst to Shaun, the Blight Catalyst wasn't the end—it was only the beginning. Normally, his defenses would have revived him by channeling excess energy into reconstituting his form. But this time, with his mind, soul, and spirit successfully detached from his body, the unleashed energy had nowhere to go. It coalesced into something far more horrifying. From the toxic ruins rose a monstrous being—a Blight Griffin—a manifestation of chaos and destruction given form.

The creature towered over the battlefield, its body a grotesque amalgamation of jagged feathers, molten fur, and acidic sludge. Its eagle-like head glowed with streaks of sickly green, while its feline hindquarters radiated raw power. Jet-black wings shimmered like an oil slick, leaving trails of toxic ash with every beat. The air grew thick with a corrosive mist that gnawed at the ground and turned stone to sludge. Its very presence warped the environment, a living embodiment of annihilation.

The ground beneath him cracked and oozed with black sludge, coalescing into a monstrous form. From the ruin rose a Blight Griffin, its massive, jagged wings unfurling like a banner of despair. Its blood-red eyes glowed with malevolent intelligence, and its acidic talons raked the earth, sending sparks of green fire in its wake. The creature's aura was suffocating, a living embodiment of destruction that made even the curse feel tame in comparison.

The Warden wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his glowing eyes fixed on the monstrosity rising from the cursed ground. It wasn't merely a beast—it was an abomination, forged from pure malice and decay. The Blight Griffin's wings stretched wide, oozing with a tar-like substance that dripped to the ground, hissing and burning like acid. Its jagged talons flexed, carving deep gouges into the earth, and its eyes—blood-red and glimmering with intelligence—locked onto him like a predator assessing its prey.

"This isn't just corruption," the Warden muttered under his breath, his voice steady but grim. "It's a curse made flesh, an echo of annihilation. A mind behind the madness... No, something worse. Instinct with purpose."

The Griffin screeched, the sound reverberating like the wail of countless souls in torment. The Warden tightened his grip on his blade, the weapon's faint glow flickering in the darkened air.

"It adapts," he mused, his voice low but resonant. "Light harms it, but only for a moment. Fire causes it pain, yet it endures. Its form shifts like shadow and smoke... Which means it has no fixed core. But even chaos has a rhythm. And you—" His gaze narrowed, his lips curling into a faint, cold smirk. "You bleed. That means you can die."

The Griffin lunged, its talons aimed at his throat. The Warden sidestepped, the movement smooth and precise despite his weakened state. His sword flashed in a tight arc, carving into the beast's wing. The tar-like substance hissed and steamed, splattering onto his armor and searing through it. The Warden grunted but didn't falter. He followed up with a swift kick, driving the creature back.

"Clever," he said, his voice laced with dark amusement. "You're more than a brute. You're testing me."

The Griffin twisted, its body warping grotesquely. Its wings folded inward, transforming into spiked tendrils that lashed out like whips. The Warden moved like liquid, dodging and deflecting with his blade, his centuries of combat experience guiding him. Sparks flew as his sword met the tendrils, each clash resonating with an unnatural hum.

"You adapt to survive," he said, leaping over a sweeping strike that gouged the ground. "But so do I."

He slammed his palm into the ground, summoning pillars of earth that erupted around the Griffin, forming a crushing barrier. The beast screeched, its tendrils snapping and slicing through the stone, but the Warden was already moving. He darted in, his sword blazing with lightning, and struck at the Griffin's exposed side. The blade sank deep, eliciting a roar of pain.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" the Warden snarled, yanking his blade free. "Even gods bleed if you know where to cut."

The Griffin retaliated, shifting its form into a writhing mass of shadows. It lunged at him, engulfing him in darkness that gnawed at his already drained mana. The Warden grimaced as he felt the curse crawling through his veins, but he steadied his breath, focusing his will.

"You think I fear the dark?" he growled, his voice cutting through the suffocating void. "I've lived in it."

With a surge of energy, he unleashed a burst of holy fire, the radiant flames igniting the shadows and forcing the Griffin to recoil. The light illuminated the battlefield, revealing the creature's writhing, amorphous form. The Warden staggered but held his ground, his eyes scanning the Griffin's movements.

"It's not invincible," he muttered, his voice firm despite his labored breathing. "It regenerates, but there's a delay. The more damage it takes, the slower it reacts. If I can outlast it—"

His thoughts were interrupted as the Griffin reformed, its body solidifying into a grotesque amalgamation of beast and blight. It charged, its claws glowing with sickly green energy. The Warden raised his sword to block, but the impact sent him skidding back, his boots digging trenches in the scorched earth.

"You're persistent," he said, his tone almost conversational, as if speaking to an old rival. "But so am I."

The Griffin lashed out again, but this time the Warden was ready. He sidestepped and retaliated with a burst of shadow energy, the dark tendrils wrapping around the Griffin's limbs and holding it in place. He followed up with a spinning strike, his blade igniting with fire and lightning, the combined elements searing into the creature's flesh.

The Griffin howled, its form flickering and distorting. The Warden pressed the advantage, his movements a masterful blend of martial arts and elemental prowess. Each strike was calculated, exploiting the beast's weaknesses with surgical precision.

But even as the Griffin faltered, the Warden felt his own strength waning. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision dimming at the edges. The curse inside him burned like a smoldering coal, and his mana reserves were nearly depleted.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. He raised his blade, its light dim but unyielding. "One last gamble."

He channeled the last of his mana into the sword, the weapon glowing with an ethereal radiance. The air around him crackled with power, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

"By the will of gods long dead," he intoned, his voice resonant with ancient authority, "I cast you into the void."

With a final, thunderous roar, he brought the blade down in a sweeping arc. The energy surged forward, a wave of light and shadow colliding with the Griffin. The explosion rocked the battlefield, blinding and deafening in its intensity.

When the dust settled, the Warden stood amidst the ruins, his blade shattered and his body trembling. The Griffin lay in pieces, its form dissolving into ash and smoke. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping as the adrenaline faded.

But then, from the ashes, a low growl emerged. The Warden's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the broken hilt of his sword.

"Of course," he muttered, his voice laced with grim humor. "Why would it ever be that simple?"