The forest lay quiet, but it was a fragile quiet, like the hush before a storm. Smoke from distant fires drifted lazily over broken trees, painting the ground in dark reds and grays. Ragnar's Abyssal Talons still glimmered faintly with residual heat, the echo of the last Purge Unit skirmish leaving his arms aching and his body drenched in sweat.
Selene moved beside him, her silver chains coiling around her wrists like restless serpents, faintly glowing in the twilight. Each motion drew a small hiss from the magic, like a reminder that her life was not her own. Her face was pale, eyes tired, but she walked with steady purpose, dragging herself along because she had to.
"Ragnar…" she whispered, voice strained. "We… we can't keep doing this. Every fight takes more than we have. Every step… could be the last."
Ragnar's shadow pulsed around him, black tendrils licking the ground like liquid ink. His crimson-black eyes, burned by sleepless nights and unhealed wounds, focused on the trail ahead. "Then we make them regret it," he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself. "Every step we take… they'll bleed for it before we fall."
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line. She had learned early that he didn't speak for comfort. Words from him were tools, weapons, or truths too sharp to soften. And yet, something about the steady cadence of his tone made her grip her chains tighter—not in fear, but in determination.
They moved in silence, the forest opening gradually into a clearing strewn with ruins. Flames from long-dead fires still lingered on the ground, blackened grass crackling underfoot. The shadows seemed deeper here, more tangible, as though the forest itself recoiled at the presence of the Shadow-born.
"Stop." Ragnar's voice cut sharply. He crouched low, talons scraping the earth. Selene froze instinctively.
Through the mist, figures emerged—dozens, maybe hundreds, circling silently, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods. Not hunters, not sect warriors, but something worse. Their aura pressed against Ragnar's skin like cold steel, and even the shadow hesitated, curling nervously around him.
One stepped forward. Tall, lean, his presence radiating a cruel intelligence. The others mirrored him, a living tide of lethal calm. Ragnar recognized the pattern—these were elite scavengers, collectors of broken souls, followers of laws twisted and devouring. And at the front… someone he had heard of in whispers.
"Ragnar," the man said, voice smooth and almost teasing. "I wondered how long it would take for you to draw attention. You devour Laws like a child steals candy… but candy is temporary, isn't it?"
Ragnar's talons flared, molten-black fire licking the tips. "Show yourself," he growled. "If you want to play… I'll finish this."
The man laughed softly. "Oh, I don't plan to die today. Not yet." He lifted his hand, and the others spread like shadows into the forest. "But everyone around you… they will."
Selene's chains hissed, snapping to life around her wrists. "Ragnar, we need a plan," she said, voice trembling. "We can't fight all of them."
Ragnar crouched, talons digging into the earth. His shadow swirled, whispering urgently, feeding on his adrenaline. He knew she was right. Even he could not match numbers like this without calculating every strike, every movement. But the thought of running, of leaving anyone behind, was intolerable.
"We'll do this," he said calmly, surprising even himself. "We survive… together."
Kael stepped beside him, silent until now. His eyes glimmered like shards of glass, sharp and cold. "Together?" he echoed, almost mockingly. "Fine. But don't expect mercy. Only results."
Dax and Ruin, the last two of their growing band, shared a glance. Even their usual brashness faded under the weight of the encroaching threat. But when Ragnar's shadow pulsed again, as if feeding on their resolve, they understood.
The first wave moved. Faster than sound, black-cloaked figures surged from the tree line. Ragnar launched forward, molten talons slicing the air, shadows following every swing, devouring Laws the enemies tried to wield. The clash rang like thunder—the screams of men, the tearing of chains, the hiss of shadowfire consuming flame.
Selene's silver chains struck like lightning, wrapping around limbs and weapons, draining life force while feeding her own curse. Every movement caused a shiver to run through her, a painful reminder of the price she paid for power. But she didn't falter. Every chain she summoned was a lifeline, every spark a promise that Ragnar would not be left alone.
The battle roared around them, a chaotic symphony of blood and shadow. Kael's strikes were precise, almost surgical, dismantling opponents with terrifying efficiency. Dax's raw power clashed against the strongest enemies, reckless but effective. Ruin moved like liquid steel, unpredictable and deadly. Together, they formed a dangerous pattern of offense and defense, a circle of living fire and darkness around Ragnar and Selene.
And then Ragnar saw her—the enemy at the center, the one whose presence twisted the forest with fear. His talons elongated, shadowfire igniting as his instincts screamed. The shadow whispered: "He's yours to devour."
He lunged. The enemy responded instantly, the clash erupting in a storm of Laws—flame, steel, storm—twisting and warping the air itself. Each strike Ragnar landed shattered not just armor but illusions, tearing through the resolve of all who followed the man.
Selene moved with him, every chain she summoned wrapping around the enemy's limbs, pulling taut, binding, weakening. Ragnar glanced at her briefly, and in that moment, he understood. Not love—not yet—but a connection forged in the fire of shared survival, pain, and sacrifice.
By the time the clearing fell silent, only ash and smoke remained. Their breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps. Around them, the forest had become a graveyard for ambition.
Selene sank to her knees, chains flickering faintly before fading. "Ragnar…" she whispered. Her silver eyes met his, full of exhaustion and unspoken understanding.
Ragnar knelt beside her, shadow coiling protectively around both of them. He didn't speak. Words felt meaningless after fire, blood, and survival. But the look in his eyes said everything: We endure. Together.
And in the distance, through smoke and broken leaves, new threats stirred. But for now, Ragnar, Selene, and their companions had survived another night in a world that wanted them dead.