Aetheron's eyes snapped open.
The throne room was gone. The darkness was gone. But the power remained.
He flexed his fingers, watching the shadows coil and twist around them like obedient serpents. This wasn't just raw power—it was something more. Something alive.
The air around him felt heavier. Different.
And then—the world caught up.
A sudden rush of noise—distant voices, the hum of magic, the faint scent of scorched stone.
He was back.
And the battlefield was waiting.
The Battlefield
Aetheron stood at the edge of a ruined plaza, the sky above twisted with unnatural storm clouds. The remnants of a battle lay scattered around him—shattered weapons, crumbling structures, and bodies, some groaning, some still.
And across the field—they were waiting.
A group of figures, cloaked in the insignia of the Sovereign's Hunters.
Eight of them.
Each one radiating power.
Each one watching him.
Aetheron let out a slow breath. "Took you long enough."
The one in front—tall, armored, and holding a halberd crackling with energy—spoke first.
"You've changed."
Aetheron rolled his shoulders, feeling the new energy thrumming beneath his skin. "Yeah. And?"
The hunter tilted his head. "And now, we see if you're still you."
Then they moved.
The Clash Begins
The first attack was a blur—a streak of silver aimed straight at Aetheron's throat.
He tilted his head, dodging by a hair's breadth. Fast.
But he was faster.
Aetheron countered, shadows twisting around his arm, extending his strike. A black lance shot forward.
The hunter barely deflected it, the force sending him skidding backward.
The others didn't wait.
They rushed in.
Aetheron moved—a step, a breath, and then chaos.
A blade from the left—he parried.
A burst of ice from behind—he twisted, shadows swallowing the attack.
Aetheron dropped low, sweeping his leg out—a tendril of darkness lashed out, catching an enemy mid-air.
They slammed into the ground—hard.
Three down. Five left.
And then—
Aetheron felt it.
A shift in the air.
The leader wasn't attacking.
He was watching.
Waiting for something.
The Hunter's Gambit
Aetheron didn't like that.
Not one bit.
He lunged forward, targeting the leader directly—but the moment he did, the others reacted.
Not attacking.
Positioning.
Aetheron's instincts screamed.
Trap.
But it was too late.
A pulse of energy erupted beneath his feet—a sigil, glowing bright.
Tch.
His body froze.
For a split second, his movement stopped.
And in that moment—they struck.
The Turning Point
Aetheron braced.
A fist slammed into his ribs—forceful, precise.
Another hit his back—sending a shockwave through his body.
Then came the spear—driving straight toward his chest.
He gritted his teeth—and his Dominion reacted.
Shadows surged.
The spear stopped inches from his heart.
But the force still sent him flying—crashing through a ruined pillar.
Dust filled the air.
Silence.
And then—
A chuckle.
Aetheron Rises
Aetheron stood, rolling his shoulders.
The hunters tensed.
Because something was different.
The shadows around him weren't just moving. They were alive.
Aetheron exhaled, feeling the power settle.
"Alright."
His eyes locked onto the leader.
"My turn."
The ground shattered.
Aetheron moved—faster than before.
Before they could react, he was already in front of the first hunter.
One punch—dark energy exploded.
They were sent flying, smashing through a wall.
Another hunter lunged—Aetheron caught them by the throat.
A twist—and they were out cold.
The others hesitated.
Because now—they weren't the hunters.
They were the hunted.
The Final Duel
Only one remained standing.
The leader.
Aetheron cracked his knuckles. "Ready?"
The hunter sighed, lifting his halberd. "I suppose I have to be."
And then—they clashed.
Sparks flew.
The air trembled.
Every strike sent shockwaves rippling outward.
Aetheron's shadows lashed out—the hunter countered with precision, his halberd slicing through the void.
Their fight wasn't just power.
It was skill.
Blow for blow. Strike for strike.
Neither backing down.
And then—
Aetheron saw his opening.
A feint. A shift in balance.
And that was all he needed.
He moved faster than sight—shadows twisting around him like a storm.
One final strike.
Aetheron's fist connected—and the battle was over.
The Aftermath
The leader staggered, his weapon slipping from his grasp.
He looked at Aetheron—not with anger. Not with fear.
But with acceptance.
"You really are different now."
Aetheron exhaled, letting the last remnants of power fade. "Yeah."
The hunter nodded. "Then I guess we'll see what you do with it."
And with that—he collapsed.
The fight was over.
But the real battle—
That was still ahead.