As Monsters rushing in,The sword's golden flames reflected in Alex's eyes as the demon lunged. Its claws—each longer than Alex's arm—screeched against the relic's blade. The impact rattled his bones, but the sword's power surged through him, steadying his grip. Behind him, his father roared, cleaving through a serpentine monster with his axe.
"Focus, Alex!" his mother shouted, her hands weaving a 2nd Circle ice spell. Frost crawled up the demon's legs, pinning it momentarily. "Aim for its core!"
Alex hesitated. The demon's chest pulsed with a grotesque fusion of the Five Heroes' faces, their mouths twisted in silent screams. Are they still alive in there? The black scar on his palm throbbed, whispering: "Mercy is weakness."
The sun mark flared in response. No. I'm not like you, Alex thought, driving the sword into the demon's chest. Golden fire erupted, dissolving the abomination into ash. The Heroes' faces dissipated with relieved sighs.
But victory came at a cost.
A fissure split the earth where the demon fell, oozing black mist. The scar on Alex's hand darkened, veins of shadow spreading to his elbow. Nearby, the holy palace's wards flickered and died.
"The seal…" The head priest staggered toward the fissure, horror-struck. "You've bought us minutes, boy—not years. Every demon you slay weakens the Devil's prison further."
Before Alex could respond, the hooded figure materialized beside him, their voice a venomous purr. "You'll need this to survive what's coming." They pressed a cracked crystal into his hand—a relic of the Fifth Hero, the Seer. "The Sanctum lies three days north. But beware the Wandering Temple. It hungers for those marked by both God and Devil."
A guttural roar cut through the chaos. Across the city, the river itself twisted into a colossal hydra, its nine heads spewing acid. The remaining priests fled, but Alex tightened his grip on the sword.
"We can't fight that thing!" his father barked, dragging him backward. "We need to retreat!"
Alex shook his head, the Seer's crystal burning in his palm. Visions flooded his mind: the hydra's core glowing beneath the central head, the sword piercing it, the scar on his hand erupting with black flames.
I can end this. But what if I lose control?
His mother gripped his shoulders. "You're stronger than the Heroes," she said fiercely. "Not because of that sword—because you fear the power. Now run. We'll hold the hydra."
"No! I won't leave you—"
"The Sanctum can teach you to balance the marks," she interrupted, tears in her eyes. "Go. Before the Devil's voice drowns out your own."
Reluctantly, Alex fled, the hydra's roar shaking the sky. As he reached the city gates, he glanced back. His parents stood back-to-back, ice and steel holding back the tide. His father's axe flashed once, twice—then vanished beneath a tidal wave of fangs.
The scar on Alex's hand pulsed, smug. "You could've saved them,"it hissed. "If only you'd embraced me."
Alex ran faster.
The northern wilds swallowed Alex whole. Ancient pines groaned under the weight of their own shadows, and the air tasted of iron and decay. He ran until his lungs burned, the Seer's crystal clenched so tightly in his fist that its edges drew blood—a stark counterpoint to the numb ache spreading from his corrupted hand.
By dawn, the hydra's roars had faded, replaced by the whispers of the forest. And the scar. Always the scar.
"They died for your hesitation," it sneered, tendrils of shadow now snaking past his elbow. "The Sanctum will chain you. Let me devour its light instead."