The Devourer's Dominion

The moment Aetheron stepped forward, the battlefield twisted.

The air around him pulsed, warping like something unseen was clawing at reality itself. His body felt lighter, stronger—the sensation of loss from the earlier wounds still lingered, but it no longer mattered. His instincts took over, and his mind sharpened.

Across from him, the leader of the Sovereign's Hunters remained still, his grip on his blade steady. His eyes held a quiet amusement, as if he was still waiting—waiting to see what Aetheron would do.

Then, Aetheron moved.

A single step, and the world cracked beneath his feet.

The force of his acceleration shattered the ground, a shockwave exploding outward as he closed the distance in a blink. His fist, wreathed in dark energy, rocketed toward the leader's chest.

Steel flashed.

The leader's blade curved, a perfect arc aimed at Aetheron's wrist. But Aetheron saw it—no, felt it—just before it could make contact. His body twisted, unnatural, bending at an angle that should have been impossible. The blade sliced through the empty air where his wrist had been a fraction of a second ago.

And then, his fist landed.

Aetheron's knuckles smashed into the leader's side, the impact sending out a deafening boom. The force was enough to send the man flying, his body skidding across the battlefield, carving a deep trench through the earth.

Aetheron exhaled slowly, lowering his fist.

But he didn't relax.

He could still feel it.

That eerie, cutting presence.

The dust cleared, and the leader stood, rolling his shoulder as if testing the damage. His cloak was torn, his armor dented, but his eyes remained steady.

"Better," he said, voice calm, almost approving. "But not enough."

Aetheron's gaze narrowed.

The leader lifted his blade. And this time, Aetheron saw it—faint, but undeniable. The edge of the weapon shimmered with something more than just sharpness.

It was cutting through the air itself.

No, not just air.

It was cutting through the flow of energy, the very essence that made abilities function.

Aetheron had never seen anything like it.

But there was no time to analyze.

The leader disappeared.

Aetheron barely caught the movement—a flicker in the air, then the whisper of steel behind him. He twisted, arm raising instinctively.

Steel met flesh.

The blade bit deep into his forearm, cutting cleanly, effortlessly. But the pain didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling—like something inside him was unspooling, like his power itself was being carved away.

Aetheron's foot shot out, a counterattack aimed at the leader's ribs. But the man shifted, stepping aside with that same effortless grace. Before Aetheron could recover, another cut—this time across his shoulder.

Thin lines of blood streaked across his body, but Aetheron barely registered them.

He moved again.

Faster.

His instincts screamed, his body twisting, his energy lashing out in a wave of force. The ground ruptured, jagged cracks racing outward as his power surged. But the leader weaved through it, slipping between the chaos like he was walking through a storm untouched.

Then, Aetheron felt it.

A sudden, sharp pull—

His power faltered.

His breath hitched.

The energy around him wavered, unstable. He staggered, just for a second. But that second was all it took.

The blade flashed.

A deep cut carved across his ribs.

The pain was sharp, real, but it was the feeling that hit harder. His power, the very thing that made him him, was slipping.

Aetheron gritted his teeth, his vision sharpening through the pain.

The leader finally stopped, standing a short distance away, his blade gleaming with something dark—something that had been taken from Aetheron himself.

The realization hit him.

It wasn't just a weapon.

It devoured power.

Not like him, not absorbing and merging it—but severing it, stealing fragments and leaving behind emptiness.

Aetheron exhaled slowly.

Then, he smiled.

The leader arched a brow. "You're smiling?"

Aetheron rolled his shoulder, ignoring the pain. "I just figured something out."

The leader tilted his head slightly, waiting.

Aetheron lifted his hand. His energy surged again, dark tendrils swirling around him. The cuts on his body remained, the pain still there, but his power—his essence—began to flow differently.

It wasn't about keeping his power.

It was about reclaiming it.

His fingers curled slightly, and the space around him pulsed.

The stolen fragments—the energy that had been severed—shuddered in the air. The blade still held them, but they were no longer stable.

Aetheron's smirk widened.

Then, he reached out.

The world snapped.

The energy returned.

The stolen power, the essence that had been taken, rushed back into him, like a chain being yanked. The blade trembled, its glow flickering, and the leader's eyes narrowed slightly.

Aetheron cracked his neck. "I take things. That's what I do." His eyes burned, the mark of the Sovereign flaring brighter than before. "Did you really think I wouldn't take back what's mine?"

The leader was silent for a moment.

Then, he laughed softly. "Interesting."

Aetheron didn't wait for a response.

He moved.

This time, there was no hesitation.

No testing.

Just action.

His body flickered, appearing above the leader in an instant, his leg already descending in a brutal axe-kick. The air screamed from the force of it.

The leader raised his blade—

But it was slower.

The energy inside the weapon had changed, and Aetheron felt it.

The stolen fragments weren't stable anymore.

The blade met his kick—

And shattered.

Aetheron's foot connected, sending the leader crashing into the earth, the impact leaving a crater beneath him. Dust exploded outward, a shockwave tearing through the battlefield.

Aetheron landed lightly, standing over the broken remains of the blade.

The leader lay still for a moment before exhaling, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he sat up. His armor was cracked, his clothes torn, but his eyes still held that quiet amusement.

Aetheron didn't drop his guard.

The leader let out a small breath, glancing at his broken weapon. "That," he said, "was unexpected."

Aetheron stayed silent.

Then, after a moment, the leader chuckled. "I suppose that's enough for now."

Aetheron narrowed his eyes. "You're stopping?"

The leader looked at him, then smirked. "You won this exchange. I don't need to push further." He rose to his feet, stretching slightly. "Besides, I've seen what I wanted to see."

Aetheron didn't relax.

Something about this felt… off.

The leader dusted off his torn cloak, then turned slightly, glancing back at Aetheron. "You're different from the others." His tone was almost conversational. "You don't just devour. You adapt."

He took a step back.

"Keep going, Devourer. The next time we meet, I'll be watching."

Then, before Aetheron could react, the leader vanished.

The battlefield was silent.

Aetheron exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder.

His body still ached, and the wounds hadn't vanished. But his power—the energy inside him—felt more stable than before.

He glanced at the shattered remains of the blade.

A weapon that could steal power. A foe that could sever abilities.

And yet, Aetheron had reclaimed what was his.

A slow smirk crossed his lips.

The game had changed.