Page 61 of His Darkest Devotion

Bladrik laughs, a rumbling sound. “Show me, then. Let me see your true nature.”

My breath hitches. In my periphery, I sense purnas pulling back, fear emanating from them. Even Elira stands transfixed, illusions flickering helplessly. No one can intervene without risking the entire allied line.This is my fight.

With a guttural roar of my own, I surge forward, channeling the Overlord’s twisted legacy—gargoyle strength conjoined with dark elf battle magic. My muscles burn as a monstrous force pours through me, bright arcs of energy crackling around my arms. The ground cracks under my steps.It’s excruciating and exhilarating.

Bladrik lunges, claws scything the air. I parry with a slash of conjured blade energy—half illusions, half raw chaos. The collision sparks a shockwave, sending dust and debris spiraling. He snarls, reeled back, then slams a wing into my chest. Agony explodes, but I hold my ground, letting that gargoyle side rise. My nails lengthen, turning black at the tips. My teeth ache with feral intensity.

“How does it feel?” Bladrik taunts, circling me. “Your blood calls. Embrace it fully, and stand at my side. You don’t have to die with these pitiful purnas.”

I snarl, ignoring the savage voice whispering that I could be unstoppable if I joined him.Elira, I remind myself. I’m hers.

“I fight for my own,” I rasp, unleashing a torrent of illusions shaped like obsidian shards. They swirl around Bladrik, slicing at his stony flesh. He roars, wings beating in a furious attempt to dispel them.

Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the swirling illusions and the savage dance of our conflict. Each time he swipes, I dodge, channeling unholy strength to dash in, slash with conjured blade arcs. Sparks of power erupt where we clash—gargoyle might versus gargoyle might, fueling cosmic chaos. My entire body feels like it’s ripping at the seams, the Overlord’s conditioning unraveling under the raw collision of energies.

Bladrik reels back momentarily, black ichor dripping from a wound in his flank. He eyes me warily. “You dare wound me, half-breed? Then die!”

He hurls himself at me, talons outstretched. I brace, illusions forging a barrier. He smashes through with frightening ease. The shock rattles my bones, pain lancing my skull. Before I can recover, he slams me aside. My body crashes into a fallen pillar, stone shards embedding in my shoulder. White-hot agony streaks across my vision.

“Elira…” I whisper, seeing her across the battlefield, illusions flickering anxiously. She tries to rush forward, but Olyssia and the elders hold her back, yelling something about letting me fight.I must finish this.

Bladrik leaps, pressing the advantage. I roll, just avoiding his claws. My illusions waver, near collapse.No choice.I tap deeper into the gargoyle side, pushing my body beyond mortal limits. A savage roar tears from my throat as I stand, black veins pulsing along my forearms. My nails lengthen into claws.I become half the monster they feared.

Bladrik’s eyes widen at the sight, but he recovers, lashing his tail with scorn. “Yes, that’s the power. Give in!”

I fling illusions in a wide arc, shaping them into a blade of crackling darkness, every bit of dark elf battle magic I command fused with the gargoyle might. My entire being vibrates, pain overshadowed by unstoppable force. “Enough!” I bellow, driving forward.

We collide in a spray of dust and arcane sparks. My conjured blade slashes into his stony torso. He roars, wings beating a hurricane wind. I push with everything—my illusions flaring a blackish hue, swirling like living shadows around the luminous arcs of chaos. Each heartbeat feels like it tears my insides.But I can’t stop.

Finally, my blade finds purchase in the soft juncture beneath his wing. Bladrik howls, thrashing as black ichor spurts. His claws rake my chest, but I twist aside, ignoring the ripping pain. Summoning my last ounce of strength, I drive the blade deeper. With a bellow that rivals thunder, Bladrik staggers, his massive form buckling.

Lightning splits the sky again, revealing him sinking to one knee, stone-like hide cracking. I realize I’ve mortally wounded him—my illusions severed vital arcs in his gargoyle essence. He tries to rise, eyes blazing defiance, but black ichor flows from the wound, weakening him.

A wave of hollow triumph crashes over me.I won.The gargoyle warlord is undone.But at what cost?

Then my chest convulses, lightning-hot agony shredding my veins. The conflicting energies—the gargoyle power, the dark elf illusions—clash inside me with cataclysmic fury. I stagger, dropping to one knee. My nails retract, illusions flaring wildly. The Overlord’s breeding experiment pulls me in two directions at once, my mind fraying under the overload.It’s too much.

Bladrik stares, eyes dimming. “You—” he rasps, voice gargling in black ichor. “This is not victory. It’s… your doom.”

With a final snarl, he collapses, stone-like flesh cracking away from monstrous wings. I taste blood, realize it’s pouring from my mouth. My illusions flicker, then vanish. The ground tilts under me, and I pitch forward, gasping.I can’t breathe.

Somewhere behind me, I sense Elira screaming my name, her voice raw with panic. My heart hammers out of rhythm, each beat a fresh stab of pain.I’m dying. The powers inside me tear me apart.

Elders rush in, purnas chanting frantically, but I only see Elira’s face, illusions swirling around her in frantic arcs. She drops beside me, arms sliding under my shoulders. My vision blurs, the world tinted red from the blood streaming down my chin.

“Vaelin, stay with me,” she pleads, illusions flickering around her trembling hands. “I can fix this—just hold on.”

I want to speak, to reassure her, but my throat locks in a wet cough. Darkness creeps at the boundaries of my sight, the gargoyle side thrashing like a wounded beast in my chest. My battered heart stutters. The Overlord’s conditioning, the gargoyle blood, the illusions—I tried to contain them all, but they shred my soul in warring currents.

Elira’s tears drip onto my face. She presses a trembling hand to my cheek, illusions weaving in a desperate attempt to hold me together. I sense the swirl of space-time magic, as though she’d try the same technique that once severed the Overlord’s hold. But it’s too late. My body’s unraveling from the inside.All I can do is gaze at her, memorizing her face.

“N-no,” she chokes out, illusions sparking around her eyes. “Don’t do this.”

The hush around us thickens. I hear Olyssia’s muffled sob, the elders cursing in despair. Allies gather, forming a ring of shock and grief. I see orcs bowing their heads, humans kneeling, purnas trembling. The petrified gargoyles overshadow the entire scene, silent witnesses to my final stand.

I try to speak, but all that emerges is a ragged wheeze. Elira cradles me closer, illusions crumbling as she pours her last dregs of magic into me, searching for a spark that might keep me alive. My chest aches with longing. I want to tell her so many things—that she saved me from the Overlord, that I choose her over everything, that I’m sorry I’m leaving. My mind spins, trapped between life and that monstrous realm the gargoyle side beckons.

Her hand trembles against my heart. She sobs, leaning down so her brow presses to mine. “Vaelin, please,” she whispers, voice thick with heartbreak. “Don’t go. We can save you like before. Let me?—”

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