The moon was high in the sky, casting pale light over the clearing where the battle raged. The clash of steel and the screech of Doomfang's roar filled the air, echoing through the trees like the sounds of an ancient war awakening. Ronan's heart pounded in his chest, his senses heightened as the abyssal beast's power surged within him, a torrent of strength and dark energy that made him feel untouchable.
But the Huntress was relentless.
Liora Blackthorn's daggers flashed in the moonlight, striking with the precision of a serpent's bite. She was a whirlwind of movement, darting in and out of Ronan's reach with terrifying speed. Her black-leather armor blended into the shadows, making her a ghost on the battlefield, a presence Ronan could barely track.
Each strike she made was deadly—aimed at vital spots, where his defenses were weakest. But Ronan had been gifted with more than raw power; his body was more attuned to combat now. He was faster than before, the abyssal beast's strength giving him speed and agility that defied his human limitations.
With a growl, Ronan swung a clawed hand at Liora, his strike faster than any of the Hunters had expected. She dodged, but just barely, her shoulder grazing as she spun away from the impact. The force of the blow cracked the ground beneath his feet, sending a ripple of energy through the air.
Liora grimaced, barely a step ahead of the abyssal fury she faced. She had underestimated him, and now, she was forced to fight harder than she ever had before.
"Impressive," Liora called, her voice tight with both admiration and disdain. "But it won't save you."
Ronan's golden eyes gleamed as he let out a low laugh. "We'll see about that."
He moved faster, his body a blur as he closed the distance between them. He was no longer just a Forsaken. He was the Bound One, and the power within him thrummed with every heartbeat, every breath.
Liora's daggers came at him again, but this time, Ronan was ready. He blocked one of the blades with his forearm, the steel biting into his flesh, but the pain was a distant thing compared to the surge of power coursing through his veins. With a snarl, he retaliated, swiping a clawed hand across Liora's torso, tearing through her armor with ease.
She staggered back, eyes widening in shock, but she quickly recovered, spinning into a defensive stance. Ronan pressed the advantage, pushing her back with each strike, each movement fueled by the abyssal beast's presence. He was unstoppable.
But Liora was not so easily defeated. She regained her footing and launched herself at him again, her daggers flashing with deadly intent. "You are nothing but a weapon, Forsaken. A beast on a leash!"
Ronan's eyes narrowed. Her words struck deeper than he cared to admit. He had been a weapon—a tool of destruction and survival. But now? Now, he was something more. And he wasn't about to let anyone define him but himself.
"I'm not your weapon," he growled, his voice low and feral. "I am free."
The abyssal beast's presence surged again, a wave of dark energy that rippled through the clearing. Ronan felt the power grow within him, and with a roar, he unleashed it. The very ground beneath them cracked, the trees groaning as if responding to his will. The air shimmered with the force of his fury, and Liora, though skilled, found herself caught in the storm.
For a moment, everything paused. The wind stilled, the battle halted, as if the world itself was holding its breath. And then—like a bolt of lightning—Ronan surged forward, his claws outstretched.
Liora's eyes widened in realization. She tried to move, to react, but it was too late. Ronan's claws found their mark, tearing through her defenses and raking across her side. Her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled back, the force of the blow sending her crashing into the ground.
For a long moment, the clearing was silent, save for the distant howls of Doomfang, still locked in combat with the remaining Hunters. Ronan stood over Liora, his chest heaving with exertion, his claws still crackling with the energy of the abyss.
Liora lay sprawled on the ground, blood staining the earth beneath her. Her daggers had fallen from her grasp, and her breathing was shallow, her face pale. She was defeated, but she wasn't dead. Yet.
"You're right," Ronan said, his voice dark, heavy with the power of the beast that surged through him. "I was once a weapon, but I will no longer be anyone's tool. I will carve my own path, and no one will stop me."
Liora's gaze shifted, meeting his with a strange mixture of contempt and grudging respect. "You are dangerous, Forsaken. Dangerous enough to bring down everything. You think you're a leader, but you're just a pawn to that thing inside you."
Ronan didn't flinch. The abyssal beast's power flowed through him, its will entwined with his own. It had become a part of him, and he wasn't afraid of it.
"I'm no one's pawn," he said softly, stepping back from Liora. "And I won't be anyone's victim again."
He turned his back to her, a final sign that the battle was over. But the war had only just begun.
The Path Ahead
Doomfang approached, his massive form still crackling with the aftereffects of the battle. His golden eyes flicked over Liora's prone form before landing on Ronan. "You've won, Bound One. But this is only the beginning."
Ronan nodded, his eyes hardening. "I know. The Hunters won't stop coming, and the Nobles will send their armies to crush us. But it doesn't matter. We'll face them head-on. We'll take the fight to them."
Doomfang tilted his head, his wings folding against his body as he regarded his master. "And what of Liora?"
Ronan glanced back at the defeated Huntress, the fire in her eyes flickering despite her injuries. "She's not dead yet. She might still be useful."
He stepped forward, crouching beside Liora, who had managed to sit up, her face twisted with pain. "You still have a choice. You can walk away, live your life. Or… you can come with me. Join me in this fight."
Liora spat, her bloodied face twisting in defiance. "I'd rather die than serve you, Forsaken."
Ronan sighed. "Very well. But remember, you chose this. When the world sees the true power of the Forsaken, you'll wish you had taken my offer."
With one last look at the broken Huntress, Ronan turned to Doomfang. "Let's move. The first strike has been made. Now, we take the fight to the Nobles."