The Cost of Defiance

Liam's fist hit the masked man's jaw—an explosion of darkness burst behind the punch. The punch destroyed the altar, and the figure slid across the stone floor.

Noctis bellowed in his head. "Don't hold back!"

Liam didn't need the urging.

He sprang off the ground, every molecule shrieking as he sprinted after the figure, dodging between the shattering cathedral. A vortex of blackened spears erupted from his shadows, cutting the air at the prostrate enemy.

But the figure vanished—dissolving into darkness like mist.

A half-second's notice tickled down his spine. Liam turned around, arm up to guard.

Too slow.

A dagger smeared with writhing Abyssal mist plunged into his side.

Liam growled as a burning agony ripped through him. He swung automatically, his darkness unleashing a protective blast that sent the attacker stumbling.

He staggered, blood oozing beneath his tunic. "Damn it."

Before he could regain his balance, another cultist advanced. Then another. Then another.

Liam's shadows fell on him like a cloak, shaping into mangled plate armor. He sidled under one attack, kicked one attacker in the gut, spun to turn a second attacker's blow away from him using his elbow.

The fight warped—steel and shadow, blood and rage.

Through the cathedral, Riven battled like a tempest. Her swords sang as she wheeled among the enemy, her cloak golden flame. She was bleeding from a wound above her eyebrow, but her face was a mask of flame and intent.

Despite all that, they were being pushed back.

"Liam," Noctis hissed, "they're trying to wear us down."

"I know," Liam growled.

He had to stop it.

He only had a single card left. Risqué, dangerous—but the only one that he hadn't played yet.

Liam breathed, feeling the throb of the tainted darkness that the masked figure had sought to compel over him.

Instead of shoving them back—towards them. He went in, instead.

Noctis growled. "What in.!"

"I'm taking their strength," Liam breathed. "But under my terms."

The moment that he touched the tainted presence, it turned against him.

Darkness permeated him like venom—corrosive, jumbled. His thoughts wandered in agony. But he held on, grinding his jaw, to what he was.

Not a puppet. Not a receptacle.

Liam Vaelthorne.

And he was not going to break.

A throb hummed from his heart. His shadows quaked—writhing, contorting.

Then, they shifted.

A dark sheen flashed over Liam's armor as it reformed, smoother, sharper—less living shadow and more black crystal. His eyes burned brighter, no longer just silver—but with thin veins of violet.

His presence swept the cathedral.

The masked figure halted mid-step.

The cultists stumbled.

Even Riven hesitated, her sword frozen mid-swing.

"What…" she gasped. "What did you just do?"

Liam raised his hand—and the very floor split beneath him.

The tainted essence he had come to control began to listen to him. Not completely—but enough.

He was dancing on the precipice of something darker now.

A shadow between worlds.

And he would exploit it.

He blurred forward, quicker than before. A cultist only drew their blade before Liam cut through them, his shadow-smithed sword biting deep. He dodged between the next pair, laying out precision, brutal strikes. Blood splattered.

In a matter of seconds, three were down.

The others stumbled.

Liam's eyes shifted toward the masked figure.

"You said I'm incomplete," he growled, moving closer. "But what you fail to grasp—is that you have no idea what I am."

The figure inclined to the left. "You invited the Abyss willingly?"

No," said Liam. "I took it."

For the first time, the figure was disturbed.

Then, they pulled off their mask.

Beneath was a face that had been carved out of darkness itself. Ageless, expressionless—but those eyes blazed like dying stars.

"I am Varien," they said. "Herald of the Abyss. And you've just welcomed something ancient into your soul, Liam Vaelthorne. You think you can master it?" He smiled cruelly. "We'll see.".

They stood back up hand—hand, and the cathedral shuddered.

Reality diverged in twain behind them.

A tear. A gap. A rupture in the world itself.

An ugly hand of naked nothing reached out from beyond.

Noctis growled. "That is not a summon. That's a godshadow."

"Then we hack it down," panted Liam.

He struck at the gate with all the power he had.

Riven was at his shoulder, side to side.

The dark hand fell in crushing power—but Liam's sword sliced through it halfway, unleashing a blast of light and darkness.

The ceiling shattered. Pieces rained down. Shadows wailed.

Liam put everything he had into the blow, Noctis raging inside him. Theirs was a combined power, one that exploded like a hurricane.

The hand stumbled backward—shattered. Falling.

Varien stepped back in horror.

"No one ever defies the god's shadow."

Liam drew his sword, gasping. "Then perhaps you have not fought the right foes."

Behind him, the tear in reality started to destabilize.

The abyss howled.

Liam stepped forward—and drove his sword into the heart of the gate.

Light blazed.

The tear broke apart.

And the cathedral fell in ruin.

---

Later…

Dust clung to the air as silence fell on the wreckage.

Liam kicked himself free of a slab of stone, coughing up blood. His armor was ruined, leaking light, but he was alive.

Riven limped over to him, her cloak torn and bloodied. "You're a madman," she said hoarsely.

He chuckled. "Takes one to fight monsters."

She helped him to his feet.

Around them, the cultists were either dead or fled. Varien was gone—escaped through the shadows before the end.

But the damage had been done.

Liam had tasted something… forbidden. And worse, he had accepted it.

Noctis was silent in his mind. Not angry—just watchful.

"You've changed," the shadow finally spoke.

"I know."

"And if you lose yourself—"

"Then stop me."

Noctis paused. ".Always."

Liam stood outside the ruins of the shattered cathedral gates, the road beyond twisting into the cursed lands.

They'd won the first real battle with the Abyss.

But it was only the start.

Liam's power had increased. His foes knew his name.

And the gods. they would sense his shadow soon enough.

He strode on into the smoke and ruin.

The war was not yet over.