Chapter 9 – The Valley of Unyielding Twilight
The world rippled.
John hit the ground first, boots crunching into a carpet of glowing moss. The valley around him shimmered with unnatural beauty—vines pulsing faint blue light, mushrooms glowing faintly violet, and a sky painted in eternal dusk. The air smelled faintly metallic, like lightning trapped in mist.
He groaned and brushed dirt from his hair, muttering, "At least I didn't get dropped into a forest this time."
Tamara landed softly beside him, her boots stirring little motes of light. She gave him a faint smirk. "You're really complaining about where we fall now?"
John shrugged, eyeing the strange bioluminescent mushrooms nearby. "I'm just saying. Forests like to set themselves on fire around me lately."
"That was your fault," she shot back, but her tone was light. The tension between them from the last battle had finally begun to fade. For a brief moment, the silence was almost peaceful.
Then the air behind them warped.
Blake dropped in from a rift of shimmering light, landing in a crouch a few paces away. His twin short swords caught the dim glow, reflecting it with a cold gleam. The smirk on his face was the same infuriating one as before.
John instinctively stepped in front of Tamara, spear already forming in his grip—Eclipse Fang gleaming faintly as if recognizing danger.
Tamara took a defensive stance beside him, her hand hovering near the hilt of her dagger.
"Well, look who survived the trip," Blake said, brushing off his jacket. "Didn't think the pretty boy and his ice queen would make it."
John's jaw tightened. "You've got a big mouth that's useless."
"Oh, come on," Blake chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "I just nicked you up a little. Don't tell me you're all hurt now. You want another round? Maybe I'll finish the job this time—and hey, if you're gone, I'll make sure your girlfriend doesn't get too lonely."
John's eyes darkened. "Say that again."
Blake's grin widened. "Gladly—"
Before John could move, a shrill screech tore through the air.
Then another. And another.
The entire valley trembled. From the shadowed ridges above them, things began to crawl down—grotesque silhouettes against the violet haze.
"What the hell…" Tamara whispered, her voice unsteady.
Out of the mist emerged the first—a corrupted sabertooth, its fur blackened and slick with tar-like ichor. Its fangs glowed red, veins pulsing with sick energy.
Then came winged fiends, half-formed demons with too many eyes and twisted limbs that flapped on broken, jagged wings. Behind them, shadow wraiths slithered forward, their forms flickering in and out of existence, leaving trails of dark vapor wherever they passed.
There were dozens—no, hundreds.
Blake took a cautious step back, his cocky grin faltering. "…Okay. Maybe we save our little duel for later?"
John nodded grimly. "Truce—until they're dead."
Blake spun a sword in each hand and grinned again, though the edge in his tone was sharper. "Temporary truce. Try not to die too fast, pretty boy."
The monsters charged.
The Battle of the Twilight Valley
John drove his spear through the chest of the first corrupted beast, twisting and ripping it free in a spray of dark blood. Tamara darted in beside him, slashing through another demon's throat while her boots slid across glowing moss slicked with ichor.
Blake's blades danced in wide, silver arcs—cutting, spinning, and parrying in a blur. He fought like a man who thrived in chaos.
The three moved as an uneasy unit.
Monsters screamed. Claws met steel. Every strike came closer than the last.
John impaled one demon through the ribs, but another lunged behind it, raking across his back. He staggered forward, gasping as Tamara leapt in and slit the creature's throat before it could finish him.
"They just keep coming!" she shouted.
"Then keep killing!" Blake snarled back, ducking under a swipe and severing a sabertooth's head with both swords. "You're good with that spear, pretty boy. Try aiming higher!"
John gritted his teeth, spun, and drove his weapon through another beast's skull.
He counted four kills already—but for every one that fell, three more took its place.
They were surrounded.
Breathing ragged, Tamara pressed her palms together. Frost began to gather at her fingertips, glowing pale blue in the dim light. John turned toward her in surprise.
"Tamara—what are you—"
"Just cover me!" she shouted.
She slammed her hands into the ground.
A surge of ice erupted outward like a tidal wave, freezing everything it touched. Demons howled as frost spread across their bodies, locking them in jagged crystal shells. The entire valley seemed to shimmer with sudden stillness.
Then, as the frost steam rose, Tamara collapsed.
"Tamara!" John shouted, catching her before she hit the ground. Her body was cold to the touch, her breathing shallow.
Blake's eyes widened as he stared at the frozen battlefield. "That… that was Iceborn magic. You're kidding me. She's from Rena." His tone darkened. "Explains why she's been hiding it."
John didn't answer. He was already moving, pulling her behind him as the ice began to crack.
The demons were thawing.
The Desperate Stand
John's arm burned as a corrupted tiger lunged. He blocked with the spear, but claws ripped deep into his flesh. Blood streamed down his forearm, but he didn't retreat. He struck again, piercing through the beast's skull.
Blake fought beside him, bleeding from a cut along his temple, yet his smirk never faded. "Guess we're both having a bad day, huh?"
"Shut up and fight!" John barked, swinging his spear in a broad arc that tore through two wraiths at once.
The battle blurred—pain, steel, fire, blood.
The stench of death filled the valley.
John's muscles screamed. He could barely see through the haze. Tamara lay motionless behind him. The tide wasn't slowing.
He felt it then—his body trembling, his vision dimming. "I'm… really gonna die here," he thought.
The sky flashed blue.
The Guardian Appears
A blinding wave of light erupted across the valley. The air roared. Shadows screamed as their bodies burned away into dust.
Through the light stepped a man clad in radiant azure armor, every movement flowing like water. His eyes glowed with deep sapphire fire, and his long white hair shimmered faintly in the twilight haze. A circular sigil burned across his chestplate—the Mark of the Light Guardians.
He raised his hand, and a wall of luminous energy expanded outward, forcing the surviving monsters to recoil and vanish into the dark.
The light surrounded John, Tamara, and Blake, cocooning them in a radiant barrier.
John stared, half in awe, half in disbelief. "Who… who are you?"
The man turned, his expression calm but powerful. "I am Leto, Guardian of the Light Territory. You stand at the border between light and darkness."
Blake exhaled shakily. "Figures. We land in the worst possible place."
Leto's gaze drifted to John's spear—and then to the ring on his hand. His eyes widened. He knelt, pressing his fist to his chest in reverence.
"The spear… and the ancient ring." His voice lowered, almost reverent. "The Hero of Prophecy has arrived."
John blinked, caught between confusion and exhaustion. "Hero of—what?"
Leto rose, his expression solemn. "The one who wields the Spear of Eclipse and bears the mark of the old covenant. You are the one foretold to stand between the merging worlds."
John shook his head. "I think you've got the wrong guy."
Tamara stirred weakly on his back, murmuring his name. Blake crossed his arms, half-grinning despite the pain. "Looks like you just got promoted, pretty boy."
John pulled out the health potions he made before and gave them to Tamara and Blake.
Blake exclaimed "where did you get these?"
Leto smiled faintly, then turned his gaze toward the glowing horizon ahead. "Come. You are not safe here. This land belongs to the dark. We must return to the light before night fully falls."
As they walked through the violet valley, the faint shimmer of glowing mushrooms and misty air followed them like ghosts. Behind them, the darkness stirred again—but the barrier of light held.
For the first time since the portal, John dared to hope they might survive the night.