Chapter 9

The air was thick with tension as Erik stood face-to-face with the figure from his past. The man's presence was like a poison in the air, heavy with dark magic, and Erik could feel the weight of centuries pressing down on him. There was a history here, one that he hadn't realized was still so raw, so dangerous.

The man—who Erik now recognized as a former mentor from the coven—had always been shrouded in mystery. He had taught Erik in the early days, long before the demon blood had fully manifested within him, before the powers of a warlock had begun to shape his very being. But time had a way of eroding things, and Erik had cast him aside long ago. Now, the man had returned, seemingly more powerful, more vengeful.

"I see you've grown into something... impressive," the man said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. "But it's all a façade. Your immortality, your power—it's a crutch, nothing more. You've been running from the truth for too long."

Erik narrowed his eyes. He didn't need this. Not now. Not when they were so close to finding Elara, to finishing what they had started. But this—this man—was not something Erik could ignore. Not when his very existence threatened to unravel everything Erik had built.

"I don't have time for this," Erik said, his voice low and dangerous. He wasn't in the mood for games. This man had betrayed him once, and now he was back, trying to stir up old wounds. But Erik was no longer the naive young warlock he had once been. He was stronger now, more powerful than this old fool could possibly comprehend.

"Oh, but you do," the man said with a smile that was both cruel and knowing. "You've always had time for your past, Erik. That's what makes you weak. You've never truly let go of it."

Erik's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, but he didn't move. Instead, he drew upon the power that surged through his veins—the warlock magic, the demon blood, the strength of the Witcher within him—and focused it into a single, concentrated force. His eyes flickered with energy, the golden hue of his witcher blood and the deep red of his demonic lineage mixing together, creating an aura of raw power.

"Enough," Erik growled.

The man's eyes flashed with something dangerous—perhaps amusement, perhaps malice—but it was clear that he wasn't backing down. He raised his hands, and the shadows around them seemed to writhe, as if they had a life of their own. The temperature dropped again, and a cold, unnatural wind began to swirl through the church, whipping around them with growing intensity.

"Power alone doesn't make you strong," the man said, his voice rising with each word. "It's the willingness to sacrifice everything for it. You think you've paid the price, but you've only scratched the surface. You've been living a lie, Erik."

The words hit Erik like a blow to the chest. He had always known that there was a price to his immortality, that there were things he had given up, things he had lost. But hearing it from this man, the one who had taught him in the old ways, stirred something deep inside him—a gnawing uncertainty that he hadn't felt in centuries.

"Stop talking," Erik snapped, his voice growing darker. The shadows around them seemed to respond to his words, shrinking back as if afraid of what he could do.

But the man wasn't finished. He stepped closer, his eyes locking with Erik's, and there was something in his gaze that made Erik's blood run cold.

"You're no different than me," the man continued. "You've sacrificed everything—your family, your humanity, your soul. All for power. And in the end, it will consume you, just like it consumed me."

Erik's gaze hardened. "I will not let that happen."

But the man only smiled, a twisted grin that made the air feel colder. "You already have. The moment you accepted your immortality, you sealed your fate."

Before Erik could react, the man raised his hand and launched a bolt of dark magic at him. It was fast, too fast for Erik to dodge, but he was ready. He raised his own hand, calling upon his warlock magic, and deflected the attack with a barrier of pure energy. The force of the collision sent a shockwave through the church, shaking the very foundation beneath their feet.

Astrid was already in motion, her body shifting into the fluid, graceful movements of a wolf. She lunged at the man, her claws extended, but he was ready for her. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a shield of dark magic, and Astrid collided with it, sending sparks flying as the force of her attack rebounded.

"Get back!" Erik shouted, his voice sharp, commanding. He wasn't sure if it was the right moment to unleash his full power, but he knew that this fight would only end one way—either they took him down, or they would never see the light of day again.

The man stepped back, his eyes gleaming with a cold, knowing malice. "You can't win this, Erik. Not without understanding the truth of what you are."

Erik's hand tightened around his sword once again. "I already know what I am."

The man raised his hands, the shadows swirling around him with greater force. "Then you'll understand what I'm about to do."

Without warning, he released a surge of dark magic so powerful that the entire church seemed to tremble. The ground cracked beneath their feet, and Erik could feel the air growing thick with an almost suffocating pressure.

It was a spell designed to break him—to break them all.

But Erik was ready. He stepped forward, his sword raised high, and he called upon the full force of his power. The world around him seemed to fall away as he channeled the magic that flowed through his veins—the combined power of a warlock, a demon, and a Witcher. His body thrummed with energy, and he could feel the very earth beneath him vibrating with the force of his magic.

With a roar, Erik unleashed his attack.

The blast of energy collided with the man's dark magic, creating a shockwave so intense that the church's walls began to crumble. The ground beneath them cracked open, and for a moment, everything went white.

Erik's vision blurred, but he didn't stop. He kept pushing, feeding more of his magic into the attack, determined to break the man's hold over them.

Finally, with a deafening crash, the magic dissipated, and the church was plunged into silence.

Erik stood, panting, his body trembling with the exertion of the spell. The man—his former mentor—was gone, his dark magic vanquished by the force of Erik's power. But as the dust settled, Erik couldn't shake the feeling that this battle was only the beginning.

He turned to Astrid, her form still glowing with the remnants of her wolf magic, her face set in determination.

"We have to find Elara," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. "She's the last obstacle."

Astrid nodded, her eyes filled with a fierce loyalty. "We will."

And with that, they moved forward, knowing that the war they had just fought was nothing compared to the one that still awaited them