Chapter 21: The Dark Prince
Zyrion's laugh echoed through the clearing, the sound hollow and chilling as Ezra pulled his sword from the demon's battered body. A cruel, twisted smile danced across Zyrion's lips, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice.
"It seems I've underestimated you surface dwellers," Zyrion said, his voice rasping with dark amusement. "But no matter. Father told me not to expose this on the surface yet, but it seems I have no choice."
Alfira's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as her brother's words hit her like a punch. She took a step forward, the shock clear on her face, but her mind was already shifting into focus. She could sense the surge of dark power around Zyrion, and something deep inside her froze. "Zyrion, you must not," she pleaded, her voice urgent, desperate. "You'll destroy this entire forest."
Zyrion's gaze flicked toward her, and a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "You care more about this forest than your own brother's life? How cold." His eyes were full of disdain as he turned his attention back to Ezra, as if he hadn't heard her plea at all. "But you're right about one thing, little sister," he sneered. "I won't be able to defeat you as I am now. Time to show you the true power of our bloodline."
The air around him thickened, charged with a palpable energy as Zyrion began to rise, his body lifting from the ground with unnatural grace. His tattered robes fluttered away like dust in the wind, revealing his bare chest—pale and smooth like marble, though it was quickly shifting, warping. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin, spreading like cracks in the earth. His once slender form began to swell, muscles bulging as his body twisted and writhed in unnatural contortions.
Alfira took a step back, her eyes wide with horror as she watched her brother undergo a transformation that she had only heard whispered about in the darkest corners of her family's history. "No... Zyrion, stop this," she pleaded, but her words were lost in the wind. The demon's form was no longer even remotely human.
Zyrion's horns began to elongate, twisting upward in an arc that nearly scraped the sky. His pale skin darkened to a chilling gray, an eerie, deathly hue that made him look as if he were carved from stone. His body crackled with dark energy as the twisted Aether surged within him, pouring out like a living entity. The lines on his skin stretched, deepening with each passing second, and a monstrous aura radiated from his form, suffocating the air itself.
"Behold the power of the royal family," Zyrion proclaimed, his voice now a guttural growl that reverberated through the earth. "I wish I didn't have to display this here, but it seems my older brother was right. I am painfully weak... I'll work on that when I return home, with your heads in tow."
The air seemed to warp around him, thickening with his presence as his power continued to swell. His transformation was nearing its apex, his form now towering above them, monstrous and terrifying. His once graceful features were twisted into a nightmarish visage of power, a demon born of pure, unfathomable strength.
Ezra's grip tightened on his sword as he took a step back, his eyes narrowing. "So, This is what your bloodline is capable of?" He had faced stronger enemies before, but this... this was something different. A demon like this wasn't just dangerous—it was a force of nature. The sheer weight of Zyrion's power threatened to crush the very ground they stood on.
Korr, now fully transformed into his beast form, let out a low growl from the side, his muscles coiling like springs, ready to leap. His sharp eyes locked onto Zyrion, but even Korr seemed to hesitate for a moment. The demon's newfound power was overwhelming.
Alfira's breath quickened, panic creeping into her voice. "Zyrion, please—this is madness. You'll destroy everything, including yourself!"
Zyrion's red eyes flicked to her once again, a glimmer of mockery in them. "You've always been weak, Alfira," he sneered. "Always caring about the insignificant. This is our destiny, and it's time you understood that. I will bring this world to its knees, starting with you."
The ground beneath them trembled as the dark energy swirling around Zyrion intensified. It was no longer a question of whether or not they could defeat him—it was a matter of how long they could survive against the overwhelming force he now commanded.
Ezra stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for the battle of a lifetime. "If this is your power, Zyrion, then you'll find out just how dangerous it is to mess with the wrong people."
And with that, the battle erupted. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath as the two forces—one born of royal blood and the other forged by years of brutal combat—collided in a storm of violence, magic, and fury.
Ezra's mind raced as he faced the towering, monstrous form of Zyrion. He knew the demon's power was beyond anything he had encountered before. There was no way he could win this fight head-on—not unless Zyrion made a mistake. His chances of surviving this encounter were slim to none.
The demon's form loomed before him, a gargantuan figure of twisted power. Zyrion's red eyes glowed like burning coals as he sneered down at Ezra, his body crackling with dark aether. The transformation was complete. He was no longer just a demon—he was something far worse, a creature of pure destructive force. Ezra's instincts screamed at him to run, but he couldn't. Not now. Not when Alfira was here.
You've always been weak, Alfira. The words echoed in Ezra's mind, and he glanced at her, his heart sinking at the sight. She was on the ground, curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around herself. Tears streamed down her face, and she was muttering incoherently, lost in some inner turmoil. Ezra could barely make out her words, but he heard her mention something about "not wanting to go back to that horrible place."
It hit him like a punch to the gut. Alfira had never wanted this—never wanted to be a part of this nightmare her family had created. She was just a pawn in a war that was beyond her control. And now, here she was, crying on the ground, powerless to stop it.
Ezra's gaze hardened as he turned back to face Zyrion. The demon was toying with him now, savoring the moment. He knew he was going to die. There was no escaping it. But he refused to die without a fight.
"You're pathetic," Zyrion sneered, his voice a deep, rumbling growl that vibrated through the air. "You think you can stop me? A mere mercenary? Your life ends here, along with that of your precious princess."
Ezra gripped his sword tighter, fighting to suppress the fear creeping up his spine. He could feel the weight of Zyrion's power, and he knew that a single mistake could be his last. But even knowing that, he stepped forward, ignoring the shaking in his legs. He couldn't let Alfira see him fall. Not like this.
"Maybe I can't stop you," Ezra muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. "But I'll be damned if I just roll over and die."
Zyrion chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the bravado. "Very well. Die with some dignity, then."
The demon raised his hand, and a massive swirl of aether coalesced around his palm, twisting into a jagged black mass. The air grew thick with the stench of decay, and Ezra could feel the power building, ready to be unleashed. Zyrion was preparing something that could obliterate him in an instant. There was no room for hesitation.
Ezra lunged forward, his body moving instinctively, his sword cutting through the air with precision. He had no plan—he could only attack, hoping for an opening.
But Zyrion was too fast. The demon flicked his wrist, and a wall of dark energy surged up in front of him, blocking Ezra's strike effortlessly. The impact rattled Ezra's bones, and he was thrown back several feet, crashing to the ground with a grunt.
Zyrion floated higher, the aether swirling around him like a violent storm. "You're nothing but a bug beneath my heel. Do you really think you can stand up to a force like me?"
Ezra pushed himself to his feet, spitting blood from his mouth. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to focus. The air was thick with the oppressive weight of the demon's presence, but Ezra's resolve hardened. He couldn't just lie down and die. He had to keep fighting.
He charged again, his body moving with all the speed and power he could muster. The blade of his sword crackled with aether as he swung at Zyrion, hoping to catch him off guard. But the demon was already anticipating his every move.
With a flick of his wrist, Zyrion sent a wave of dark energy slamming into Ezra, sending him sprawling across the forest floor. He could feel the raw power of the strike reverberating through his body, the force threatening to crush him.
But Ezra refused to stay down. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself back to his feet. His armor was battered, and his body screamed in pain, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when Alfira needed him.
He glanced back at her again, her tear-streaked face haunting him. She was still on the ground, clutching her knees to her chest, muttering to herself. Her anguish was palpable, and it drove Ezra forward. He couldn't let her suffer like this—not while he was alive.
Zyrion's eyes glinted with amusement as he watched Ezra struggle to rise. "You're still here? You should have given up already. I could crush you in a second, but I want to see just how far your resolve will take you."
Ezra's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his sword. He wasn't just fighting for his life anymore. He was fighting for Alfira, for her freedom, for the chance to give her a future beyond this nightmare.
"You'll have to kill me first," Ezra spat, his voice hoarse. "And I'm not going down without a fight."
Zyrion's smile faltered for a moment, and his eyes narrowed. "Very well. You want to die fighting? I'll grant you that." His hand began to glow with an even more intense, pulsing dark energy.
Ezra's heart pounded in his chest as he prepared for the final strike. He knew this would be the last stand—there was no way out, no second chance. But as Zyrion unleashed another torrent of dark energy, Ezra did the only thing he could: he charged, sword raised, ready to face his death head-on.
The battle was far from over, and the only thing Ezra knew for certain was that, for better or worse, he would fight until his final breath.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone