Chapter 71: The Dawn of War


    <hr>


    The Black Spire loomed above us, its jagged, unnatural form cracking against the bleeding sky.


    The air pulsed with eldritch energy, a thick, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.


    Lightning forked across the heavens—black and violet, arcing toward the spire’s peak, where the ritual was already in motion.


    I could feel it.


    The abyss pulling at me, threads of unseen power trying to unravel who I was.


    And beyond the open gates, they waited.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    A sea of Black Gull acolytes, their eyes glowing with voidlight, their bodies wrapped in shifting robes of living darkness.


    Weapons forged from the Rift itself gleamed in their hands.


    And standing at the forefront—


    The gold-masked leader.


    Watching.


    Waiting.


    For us to step forward.


    <hr>


    A War Without Mercy


    Darius planted his shield in the ground, his expression carved from stone. "This is it."


    Iris unsheathed her swords, fire blazing in her eyes. "We cut through them and end this ritual."


    Zephyr cracked his knuckles, lightning dancing across his fingertips. "I do love a dramatic entrance."


    Purn growled, his golden eyes locked onto the cultists. "They reek of corruption. Their hunt ends here."


    Lilith sighed, stretching lazily. "Oh, darling~ I do adore a good bloodbath."


    I exhaled, gripping Gwaine. "Then let’s give them one."


    A single step forward.


    And the war began.