Capítulo 51: Wrath of the Sinborn
Inarius's grip tightened around his flaming purple sword as he surged forward, his boots pounding against the cracked, desolate ground. The three wraiths mirrored his charge, spectral weapons gleaming with pale green light. The battlefield seemed to shudder under the weight of their combined power.
He swung his sword in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of roaring purple flames. The fire ripped through the air, slamming into the wraiths. They hissed and recoiled as the sin flames licked at their ethereal forms, their haunting green glow dimming ever so slightly.
The first wraith, the swordsman, met Inarius head-on. Their blades collided with a deafening clang, sparks flying as the purple flame clashed against ghostly green energy. The wraith moved with precision, each strike calculated and deadly.
Inarius countered with brute force, his sword singing with every swing. He parried a swift horizontal slash and retaliated with a sharp upward strike. The wraith blocked, but Inarius's power drove it back a step.
They circled each other like predators, their blades a blur of motion. The wraith darted in with a quick thrust aimed at Inarius's chest. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, and countered with a devastating horizontal slash.
The flaming edge of his sword found its mark, slicing into the wraith's side. It staggered, but its retaliation was immediate—a vicious downward strike aimed at his head. Inarius raised his blade just in time, the impact sending a jolt up his arms.
The wraith pressed the attack, its movements faster and more desperate. But desperation left openings.
Inarius feinted left, baiting the wraith into an overextension. As it lunged, he sidestepped and drove his blade through its neck.
The wraith let out a piercing wail, its body convulsing as green light spilled from the wound. Without hesitation, Inarius grabbed its head with his free hand.
"Let's see what you've got," he growled.
Dark tendrils of sin energy erupted from his palm, burrowing into the wraith. Memories and power flooded into him: battles waged, kingdoms conquered, and lives taken. The wraith's essence became his, fueling his strength.
The swordsman dissolved into a haze of green and black, leaving behind only silence.
But Inarius's moment of triumph was short-lived.
He sensed the attack before he saw it. Spinning on instinct, he narrowly dodged the warhammer-wielding wraith's crushing blow. The ground cracked beneath the weapon's impact, sending shards of stone flying.
Before he could counter, pain exploded in his abdomen. The spear-wielding wraith had struck, its weapon piercing clean through his stomach. Blood dripped from the wound as Inarius let out a guttural growl of pain.
But pain had always been his ally.
"Big mistake," he snarled, gripping the spear's shaft.
With a roar, he tore the weapon free, the searing pain only fueling his fury. His hand shot out, ripping the warhammer from the other wraith's grip. He swung the massive weapon with both hands, channeling his rage into a devastating strike.
The hammer connected with both wraiths, sending them hurtling into the wall of the tower. The impact shattered stone and left the spectral figures crumpled in the rubble.
Inarius tossed the hammer aside, his body trembling with exhaustion and rage. Blood seeped from his wound, but he refused to fall. Closing his eyes, he summoned the sin energy within him, letting it course through his veins. The injury stitched itself together, the pain fading into a dull ache.
As he stood, he heard the two wraiths speak in unison, their voices a chilling whisper that echoed in his mind.
"Aiglos, Amandil, Amarth."
The words hung in the air like a curse.
Suddenly, a beam of pale green light erupted from the wraiths' bodies, mirroring the destructive force he had witnessed earlier from the tower. The ground quaked beneath him as the beam surged toward him, its heat and power palpable.
Acting on instinct, Inarius planted his sword into the ground. Purple flames erupted around him, forming a protective dome of sin energy. The green beam collided with the shield, the force of the impact shaking him to his core.
The shield held, but barely. Sweat dripped from his brow as he poured every ounce of his strength into maintaining it. The green light roared around him, threatening to consume everything.
After what felt like an eternity, the beam faded, leaving behind silence and scorched earth.
Inarius removed his sword from the ground, the flaming shield dissipating. His body sagged, exhaustion threatening to claim him.
Through the haze of fatigue, he saw the two wraiths lying motionless near the tower's base. Their once-brilliant green glow was now dim, their forms flickering like dying embers.
He limped toward them, each step heavier than the last. Grabbing both wraiths by their throats, he summoned his sin ability once more.
"This ends now," he growled.
The tendrils of sin energy surged into them, pulling their essence into him. Their memories, their power, their very existence became his. The process was slower this time, the sheer magnitude of their sin pushing his limits.
But he endured.
When it was over, the wraiths were no more, and Inarius stood taller, the newfound power coursing through him like wildfire. His wounds healed, his fatigue evaporating as strength returned to his limbs.
He turned his gaze toward the tower, its eerie green glow still shining like a beacon of malevolence.
"Your turn," he muttered, gripping his sword.
Without hesitation, he stepped through the shattered remains of the tower's entrance, the oppressive darkness swallowing him whole.
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