The sound was not ordinary.
It was not merely the cracking of ancient stone.
It was…
an announcement.
Crack.
The sound echoed across the vast chamber, rebounding between colossal pillars that stretched upward into the dark sky above.
Pillars without visible ends.
Pillars that seemed to carry the weight of this place since before memory itself.
But now—
one of them was breaking.
A black fracture spread across its surface…
thin…
precise…
As if something inside…
was trying to escape.
Arkath stood firm, his gaze locked onto the fractured pillar.
He did not speak.
But his grip around his sword slowly tightened.
Beside him, Zalrik's eyes narrowed.
He spoke in a low voice:
"This is no ordinary stone…"
Meanwhile, Morvan studied the ancient carvings etched across the pillar's surface.
Old symbols.
Older than the clans themselves.
His voice tightened as realization struck.
"These… are not pillars."
He paused.
Then continued:
"...They are seals."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Then—
the pillar shattered.
The lower portion exploded outward with a thunderous crash, black fragments scattering through the air.
But—
no dust emerged.
No stone.
Instead—
darkness spilled out.
It surged from within the pillar…
like thick liquid…
black…
dense…
It did not reflect light.
It did not follow natural laws.
It moved…
as if alive.
Aeryon stepped back.
"Prepare yourselves!"
But the darkness—
did not attack.
Did not rush forward.
Instead—
it gathered.
Compressed.
Folded inward.
As though an unseen force…
was reshaping it.
Then—
a form appeared.
First…
the head.
Then the shoulders.
Then the arms.
Everyone froze.
Because what stood before them…
was not an unknown creature.
It was—
Dragor.
An identical copy.
With the same black cracks stretching across his body.
The same heavy eye.
The same suffocating aura.
In the same instant—
the copy moved.
Positioning itself…
between them…
and the real Dragor.
Like a shield.
Then—
it lunged.
The battle began.
Copies surged from every direction.
One from the right.
Another from behind.
A third from the front.
The battlefield descended into chaos of moving shadows.
Arkath raised his sword.
Clang.
His strike collided with one of the copies—yet another appeared instantly at his side.
He stepped back half a pace.
"Stay together!"
Aeryon moved like the wind, evading a sharp strike that sliced past his neck.
Meanwhile, Morvan continued watching the carvings.
Watching the pillars.
Watching the fractures.
Amid the chaos—
Zalrik moved.
With cold precision.
He did not strike blindly.
He observed.
Waited.
Searched for a flaw.
Then—
he saw it.
A brief moment.
So brief it nearly passed unnoticed.
One of the copies…
hesitated.
Half a heartbeat.
Only that.
But that—
was enough.
Zalrik moved.
A sudden burst of speed.
He lunged toward one of the copies.
He did not strike hard.
Instead—
his dagger brushed lightly…
across its shoulder.
A subtle motion.
Invisible to the eye.
But it left a mark.
A shadow-mark.
Hidden.
Invisible…
to everyone but him.
He withdrew instantly.
As though nothing had happened.
And he told no one.
The battle raged on.
Growing fiercer.
More chaotic.
But something began to reveal itself.
Whenever a copy received a powerful blow…
it froze.
For a fraction of a moment.
Only that.
Aeryon shouted:
"They hesitate!"
Morvan turned quickly.
Observed.
Then understood.
"They're linked!"
Arkath raised his voice:
"Synchronized strike!"
All four moved.
At the same moment.
Strike.
Strike.
Strike.
Strike.
The copies shuddered.
All of them.
At once.
For the first time—
a gap opened between them.
A narrow path.
Short.
But clear.
Zalrik shouted:
"The path!"
Arkath did not hesitate.
He charged.
He moved between the frozen copies at speed.
Close enough to feel the cold of darkness brushing against his skin.
But they—
did not move.
Not yet.
Behind him—
the pillars continued to crack.
Not one.
But many.
Fractures spread across their surfaces…
like black wounds.
Pulsing.
Moving.
Widening.
Morvan whispered:
"No…"
He turned in shock.
"The seals… are breaking."
Arkath reached the end of the path.
He stopped before Dragor.
Only a few steps away.
For the first time…
since the battle began.
He slowly raised his sword.
His eyes locked onto Dragor's face.
The black cracks across Dragor's body…
pulsed.
As though something inside…
was trying to emerge.
Behind them—
the copies began moving again.
Faster.
More violently.
As if they sensed danger.
The ground trembled.
Violently.
Stronger than before.
Crack.
A deeper sound followed.
Heavier.
More ancient.
Everyone lifted their heads.
And looked toward the pillars.
It was no longer one.
Nor two.
But—
many pillars.
At once.
Fractures spread across them simultaneously.
As though something deep within…
had awakened.
At the center—
Dragor stood.
His eyes dark.
A cold smile slowly forming across his face.
A smile…
not meant for humans.
Then—
he spoke.
With a layered voice.
A voice that did not belong to a single chest.
But to something deeper.
Older.
More terrifying.
He said:
"The time… is over."
End of Chapter VIII 🔥