The Shadowborn’s Wrath

The battlefield was no longer a battleground. It was a graveyard in the making.

Riven stood in the center of the carnage, his breath slow and controlled, but his body screamed for rest. The rush of power had consumed him, but he was not weak enough to let it devour him completely. His shadows slithered like living entities, coiling around his feet, waiting, hungering. The moment he lost control, they would take over. That much he understood.

The scent of blood and burning metal filled the air. The Organization's forces had regrouped behind him, watching in stunned silence. Even Veydris had paused, arms crossed as if weighing his next words carefully. But Riven had no time to waste on them—not yet. His eyes locked on Lucien Graves, the leader of the Requiem Blades, standing among the wreckage of his fallen men.

Lucien's spectral chains hovered, pulsating with unnatural energy. His crimson gaze flickered between Riven and the swirling shadows around him. "I've fought many warriors," he murmured, voice carrying even through the chaotic winds of battle. "I've stolen their strength, crushed their hopes, and torn their souls apart. But you…"

He tilted his head, curiosity twisting into something almost like fear. "You shouldn't exist."

Riven smirked, rolling his shoulders. His shadow reacted to his amusement, the tendrils flickering outward like a restless beast stretching its limbs. "You hunt my kind," he mused, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "Tell me, Lucien… how many of us have you seen?"

Lucien's grip on his chains tightened. "Enough to know that your power is a threat to the balance of this world."

Riven laughed, low and dark. "Balance? That's what you call it?"

Without another word, Lucien lunged, his chains surging forward like vipers seeking flesh. They wrapped around Riven's limbs, constricting with an unnatural force designed to sap the energy from their victim. Lucien sneered, expecting to feel the life drain from Riven's body.

But something was different this time.

Instead of weakening, Riven inhaled deeply—and the shadows responded. They surged forth, wrapping around the spectral chains like living tar, consuming the energy instead of being drained by it. A sickening crackle filled the air as Lucien's power began to unravel before his very eyes.

Lucien staggered back. "That's impossible—"

Riven stepped forward. The battlefield quaked beneath him. His eyes burned with an eerie glow as his shadow extended across the ground, reaching for every corpse it could find.

And then—they rose.

The fallen warriors, once lifeless, twitched and stirred as tendrils of black energy pulled them up like marionettes. Eyes hollow and unseeing, they turned to face their former allies.

The battlefield was no longer just a graveyard.

It was his kingdom.

Lucien cursed under his breath. This was no ordinary opponent. This was something else. Something ancient, something that defied the natural order. He had faced powerful enemies before, but this was beyond that. This was the power of death itself, twisted into something even darker.

Lucien's mind raced. Retreat was the only option.

He ripped his chains free, severing the connection before Riven could take more from him. His lips curled into a bitter smirk. "You've made a mistake tonight, Shadowborn. You've revealed too much. Now, every faction will be after you."

Riven watched as Lucien turned and vanished into the night, his presence dissolving into nothingness.

A beat of silence followed.

Then, slowly, Riven let his shadows withdraw. The corpses collapsed once more, returning to their eternal rest. The power within him pulsed, unsatisfied, but he forced it into submission.

His body trembled—he had pushed too far. But it was necessary.

He turned to find Veydris watching him. The commander's expression was unreadable, but Riven saw the calculation in his eyes.

"Interesting," Veydris finally murmured.

The Organization's forces slowly lowered their weapons, though many still eyed Riven warily. He could feel the shift in the air. They didn't see him as an ally anymore. He was something else entirely. A monster? A weapon?

Or something they feared?

Veydris turned to his soldiers. "Take him back. We have much to discuss."

Riven didn't resist as the guards moved toward him, though he noted the way they hesitated, unsure if touching him would result in their own demise. He had made his move tonight, revealed more than he intended—but the world was changing, and now the game was set.

Every faction would come for him.

But they would learn something very soon.

The darkness belonged to him now.