The shadows were alive.
Not mist, not illusion—but creatures that had once been men, goblins, even gods. All devoured, transformed, and used as tools by Val'Tareth.
Alexander was surrounded.
But he was undaunted. The light around him flared, not from magic, but from will.
"If I must die here," he said quietly, "at least I will die as myself."
Val'Tareth did not attack directly. He lifted a finger, and hundreds of shadowy figures charged.
And Alexander moved.
His sword—the Fang of Dawn—was no longer just a weapon. It was an extension of his soul.
With a single turn, three shadows were cut.
With two strides, ten more fell.
But they kept coming.
And the wounds began to appear on his body.
A slash to the shoulder. A graze to the back. A stab to the leg.
But Alexander stood.
"Bianca… Lugh… Rina… you must all live," he murmured.
And in that moment, he used a forbidden technique.
Something he had learned in secret. Something he knew would erode his own body.
Voidflash.
In an instant, he appeared in the heart of the shadow army.
And exploded.
Holy light mingled with the dark fire of the soul's abyss.
The shadows screamed. Some vanished.
Val'Tareth stepped back for the first time.
"Fascinating," he whispered. "But every flame… has a price."
Alexander fell to his knees. Blood poured from his nose and eyes.
The Voidflash had killed many, but it had also destroyed the magical veins in his body.
He was beginning to lose feeling in his left hand.
Val'Tareth approached again.
"Give me your body. I can heal it. No pain. No loss."
But Alexander laughed.
"If I am healed by submission… I would rather die with this pain left."
Val'Tareth raised his hand.
The shadows moved again.
But before they reached Alexander—
A blue beam shot through the sky.
A figure in white robes leapt down from the sky, wings of light spread.
His sword shattered the wave of shadows in one slash.
"Alexander!"
Bianca.
Behind him, Rina and Lugh—though still injured—jumped down as well.
"I said don't follow me!" Alexander snapped.
Bianca smiled faintly. "If you die, who else can we yell at?"
They stood with him. Four against thousands. But this time, he wasn't alone.
Val'Tareth looked calm, but the look in his eyes changed.
"Very well," he said. "Let us see… how strong the light is when it is no longer alone."
Reed stood amid the ruins, his robes tattered, his body scarred, but his eyes glowed a deep purple—more intense than ever.
The shadows around him no longer attacked him.
They obeyed.
Bianca, Rina, and Lugh stared at him in confusion, tension rising quickly.
"Alexander…?" Rina whispered.
But the figure chuckled.
"Alexander is long dead."
He looked at Val'Tareth, and they recognized each other.
"My name is Reed," he said softly. "And I do not come to bow. I come… to take the throne."
Everyone was silent. Even Val'Tareth.
Reed stepped forward. No longer hesitating. The wounds on his body began to heal themselves, as if his body were no longer human.
The shadows on the ground writhed, welcoming him, blending with his steps.
"I once believed that light could save," he said softly. "But light only judges. Binds. Punishes."
He looked at Bianca.
"You all want me to be a hero. But there is no place for heroes in a world that is broken."
Val'Tareth chuckled. "You finally understand."
But Reed raised his hand.
And slashed at her.
Black light shot from the tip of his sword, splitting the ground, destroying Val'Tareth's altar.
"Do you think I came to be your apprentice?" Reed said sharply. "I came to end your era. Including the era of the old gods."
Val'Tareth grinned.
"Then… you must fight. Not just me—but the entire world."
And from the ruins, ancient beings began to rise.
Demigod monsters.
Warriors from before history.
Giant bodies. Eyes of fire. Horns of pure bone.
Reed stood before them all.
And behind him, Bianca slowly advanced.
She said nothing. Just stood by Reed's side.
So did Rina and Lugh.
Reed turned once. "This is not your fight."
Bianca replied calmly, "If you fall, the world is theirs. So yes, this is our fight too."
Reed smiled faintly. For the first time, not coldly, not vengefully. But real.
The sky began to crack.
Above them, a portal to another world began to open.
And for the first time, the name of the Goblin Lord was called from both sides—the world of light and the world of shadow.
"Reed."
"Goblin Lord."
"Breaker of Chains."
"Uncrowned King."
Reed raised his sword high.
Shadow and light collided at the tip of his weapon.
And he said:
"If this is the world you inherit—then I will destroy it. And build a new one. With blood. With will. And with the name of the goblins you call trash."