The flames hadn't stopped burning.
Even after the Soul Reavers had turned to ash and the church's stone walls were charred black, Elias stood motionless in the heat—like a king forged in the heart of an inferno. His eyes had changed again. No longer simply crimson. Now, there was something ancient in them—inhuman.
Selene approached carefully, daggers still in hand. "Elias," she called. "The fire's over."
He blinked, but the glow didn't fade. "I didn't mean to…"
She nodded. "I know. You're not just using the Devil's System anymore. It's becoming part of you."
He looked down at his hands—cracked, still smoldering. "Is that a good thing?"
Selene didn't answer.
Outside the ruined church, the wind howled louder than ever. The veil between worlds was thinning—Selene could feel it in her bones. This wasn't just about Elias anymore. Something far older than him had taken notice.
---
Somewhere far below Whitmoor…
In a cavern filled with bone and starlight, A voice whispered.
> "Another vessel burns brighter.
But how long before he breaks?"
A shadow moved through the gloom—its form not fixed, but fluid. It watched a pool of blood reflecting Elias's battle.
Another voice answered, deeper, raspier.
> "Let him climb. Let him believe he controls the fire.
When he reaches the top, we will drag him down."
From the pool, Elias's image cracked—and then shattered.
---
Back in Whitmoor, deep night…
Adam paced the hallway of his house. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shaking.
He hadn't told anyone about the bite.
Steve's fangs had torn through his side, and though he'd stopped the bleeding, something unnatural had begun to grow inside him. He could hear things in his head now—voices, whispers of hunger and power.
He gripped the bathroom sink and stared at his reflection.
His pupils were too wide.
His skin too pale.
And behind him in the mirror… a figure stood, grinning.
Adam spun around. Nothing.
His breathing quickened. "This isn't real…"
Then, in a whisper only he could hear:
> "But it will be."
---
Elsewhere in the woods outside Whitmoor…
Steve moved like a phantom. His cloak was drenched, but not from rain—from blood. Three bodies lay behind him, drained, shredded beyond recognition.
He knelt before a strange stone altar, whispering in tongues older than the forest itself. On the stone, he laid a cracked mirror. It began to glow.
"Show me," he hissed. "Show me him."
The mirror flickered, revealing Elias in the burning church, then Adam, then Sabastin. All the pieces were falling into place.
Steve smiled—his teeth now longer, sharper. "Let them grow. Let them train. When the seal breaks fully, not even the Devil's System will save them."
He raised a bloodstained hand to the sky.
Thunder answered.
---
Meanwhile, in Sabastin's hidden study…
Books lay open, scrolls unrolled. Candles burned low as he traced the same sigil he had seen forming in the sky. Over and over again.
He poured himself another glass of black wine and stared at an old, faded photograph. A young man with white hair, standing beside a boy with curious red eyes—Elias.
Sabastin whispered to himself, voice trembling:
> "He doesn't know.
The System didn't choose him by accident.
He's the last bloodline... The final gatekeeper."
There was a knock on the door.
He turned, startled. "Who is it?"
No answer.
Another knock—harder this time.
Sabastin stood, grabbing a blade hidden beneath the table.
He opened the door slowly—
—and found nothing but a single white feather on the floor.
His eyes widened. "No… not yet. The Celestials can't be involved..."
He stepped back inside, but something had changed. The flame of every candle now flickered backward—toward the wick.
Time was unraveling.
---
Atop a tower at Whitmoor's edge…
Elias stood alone, overlooking the town. Rain fell around him, but didn't touch him—the fire within him burned too hot now.
Selene had left to find others like him. She said she'd return in three days.
Three days.
He had to master control before then.
He raised his hand, summoning the Infernal Surge. This time, he didn't just let it burn—he molded it, like clay. Shaped it into a blade of fire.
A sword.
It hovered in the air before him, quivering, waiting.
Then suddenly—it shattered.
The fire turned black.
A whisper echoed from the darkness of his mind:
> "You're not alone in there, Elias.
We share this flesh now."
Elias fell to his knees, gripping his skull. His vision blurred. He saw flickers—images not his own. A throne of bones. A woman in chains. A gate made of screaming souls.
> "You are my vessel… and I am your truth."
Then, silence.
Elias opened his eyes. The rain finally touched his skin.
He was shaking.
What have I become? he wondered.
And from the shadows beneath the tower, something watched—its claws digging into stone