The air smelled of sulfur and scorched stone.
Damien pulled himself up from the rubble, every breath burning like acid in his lungs. The blast from the Crown had torn through the cathedral like a god's wrath, ripping away centuries of sacred silence. Moonlight bled in through the shattered roof, casting broken rays over what had once been a place of peace.
Now, it was a battlefield.
At its heart stood Sierra, her silhouette framed by swirling tendrils of shadow. The Crown of Sins pulsed atop her brow, glowing like a cursed star. Its tendrils had fused with her skull, a grotesque and majestic sight, like royalty born in hellfire.
But what chilled Damien wasn't the magic. It was her eyes.
Gone was the warmth. Gone was the woman he'd sworn to protect. What remained stared at him with the calm cruelty of something ancient.
"Sierra…" he called out, voice raw, heart aching.
She turned slowly, her lips curled into a smirk. "You always were too sentimental, Damien."
The voice echoed unnaturally—her tone layered with other voices. Male, female, child, elder. Whispers that had waited centuries to be heard. The Crown wasn't just magic. It was alive.
"You have no idea what you've done," Damien said, trying to push down the fear clawing at his insides.
"No," she replied, stepping forward as the ground cracked beneath her. "You have no idea what's coming."
[System Notification: Threat Level – Catastrophic]
Engage caution protocols. Fatality risk: 93.7%.
Damien's jaw clenched. The system was never wrong.
But he wasn't going to run.
---
Earlier, before the cathedral fell, Damien had spent nights studying forbidden scrolls—anything about the Crown of Sins. A prophecy etched in forgotten tongues had hinted at this very moment:
> "She who wears the shadowed crown shall either cleanse the world… or consume it."
And now that prophecy had a face.
Her name was Sierra.
---
A sharp gust of wind cut through the ruins, stirring ash and blood. Sierra floated an inch above the ground, her feet no longer bound by gravity. Her body pulsed with corrupted power, and each breath she exhaled made the nearby stones decay.
Damien reached for his weapon, The Nullfang Blade, a cursed relic designed to pierce through magic itself.
"You still think you can stop me?" Sierra tilted her head. "I know you, Damien. You hesitate. You bleed for others. That's why they betrayed you. That's why… I left you."
Those words dug deeper than any blade. He staggered but held his ground.
"I didn't come here to fight you," he said. "I came to save you."
That flicker—just the faintest—passed through her eyes. Something real. Something human. But the shadows swallowed it instantly.
"You're too late."
She raised her hand, and the shadows obeyed. A dozen tendrils shot toward him like spears.
[System Activated: Shadow Cloak Lv. 2 – Evasion Enhanced]
He dashed sideways, rolling beneath the strike, then leapt up with his blade drawn. Steel met shadow with a scream of energy. The recoil threw him back, but he landed on his feet.
"You've gotten stronger," she mused, her tone almost playful.
"You haven't seen anything yet."
Damien gritted his teeth and activated a hidden skill:
[System Skill Unlocked – Phantom Echo (Rare)]
Creates an illusory clone that mirrors your movements. Duration: 10 seconds.
Two Damiens now moved in perfect synchrony. One charged head-on. The other flanked from the left. Sierra struck the wrong one, her tendrils phasing through the illusion. Damien's real blade sank into her shoulder—just a scratch, but enough to draw blood.
She hissed.
Her eyes flared with rage. "You dare—!"
The Crown responded, releasing a shockwave of darkness that shattered the remaining walls of the cathedral. Damien was thrown backward, crashing through stone and iron. He hit the ground hard, coughing up blood.
Above him, Sierra descended like a goddess of war.
"I gave you a chance," she said. "Now you'll die with the rest."
---
And then—the doors creaked open.
A new presence entered. Tall, shrouded in a crimson cloak stitched with golden runes. Her mechanical eye glowed blue as it scanned the battlefield. Her voice was precise, cold.
"Subject has reached convergence. Crown assimilation is 83% complete."
Sierra turned, annoyed. "Who the hell are you?"
The figure removed her hood.
Captain Valeria, Sentinel of the Empire. One of the Crown's original seekers.
"I'm here to retrieve our property," she said, drawing a blade shaped like a crescent moon. "And dispose of the anomaly."
Damien groaned, dragging himself upright. "She's not a thing," he said. "She's not yours."
Valeria smirked. "She's not even herself anymore."
She launched forward, her movements lightning-fast. Sierra blocked her strike, their clash sending sparks into the darkness. Magic vs machinery. Corruption vs precision.
The battle had truly begun.
---
Damien watched, torn.
If Sierra lost, the Crown would be claimed by the Empire.
If Valeria lost, Sierra might destroy everything.
And if he stood still?
They'd both fall… and the world would burn.
No.
He wasn't a pawn in their war.
He was a shadow forged by betrayal.
And his story had only just begun.
---