Kael spat another glob of blood, his silver eyes burning with defiance. Let the Gatekeeper adapt. Let the trial try to break him. He was Kael, cultivator of the Silent Eclipse and Crescent Requiem, and he would carve his path through this void, no matter the cost.
The Gatekeeper raised its glaive, its stance shifting, ready to strike again. Kael met its gaze—or the glowing line where its eyes should have been—and grinned, a predator's challenge in the face of an ancient foe. The dance was far from over, and he was ready to lead.
Kael spat another glob of blood onto the stone bridge, the crimson splatter stark against its worn surface. His silver eyes blazed with defiance, a fire that burned brighter than the pain coursing through his battered body.
