Adam’s daggers moved in a blur, each strike deflecting Elliot’s Soulreaver with a shower of sparks. The cursed blades sang as they met the legendary sword, their dark light flaring with each collision. Adam’s movements were faster now, more fluid—the [Dagger Mastery] skill settling into his bones like it had always been there.

Elliot’s green eyes blazed with frustration. He had expected the monster to be strong, but not this adaptable. Not this fast.

"Secret Shadow Art: Void Serpent’s Kiss!"

Soulreaver swept in a wide, horizontal arc, and the shadows along its edge elongated, twisting into the shape of a serpent made of pure darkness. The construct lunged at Adam, its jaws wide, aiming to swallow him whole.

Adam’s instincts screamed. He threw himself backward, his wings snapping open to carry him out of reach. The serpent’s teeth closed on empty air, but the shockwave of its strike sent him tumbling. He landed in a crouch, his scales smoking where the shadow energy had grazed him.

’Close.’ His crimson eyes tracked the serpent as it dissolved back into the blade. ’He’s not just swinging that sword. He’s shaping the shadows.’

Elliot pressed the advantage. He lunged, Soulreaver leading, the blade’s tip aimed at Adam’s heart.

Adam’s daggers rose to meet it.

CLANG—SCREEEECH!

The blades locked, edge to edge. Sparks showered between them, illuminating their faces in harsh, strobing light. Elliot’s green eyes were wild with fury, Adam’s crimson gaze cold and focused.

"You’re slowing down," Elliot hissed, pressing his weight into the blade. "Even with those daggers, you can’t match me."

Adam’s arms trembled. The debuff from Leela’s daggers had faded, but something else was wrong. He felt it now—a subtle drain, a persistent tug at the edges of his consciousness. Like something was pulling at his very essence.

Elliot’s smile widened. "Feel it, don’t you? Soulreaver doesn’t just cut flesh. It cuts the soul." He pushed harder, and Adam’s feet skidded back on the wet stone. "Every strike, every graze... it feeds on your life force. And the more you fight, the weaker you become."

[Status Effect: Soul Leech – Life force drain active. Max HP reduced by 2% per minute. Stamina recovery slowed by 30%. Duration: Until combat ends or wielder is defeated.]

Adam’s eyes narrowed. ’So that’s it. He’s been draining me this whole time.’

He had felt it—the growing heaviness in his limbs, the sluggishness of his thoughts. His regeneration was still working, but even that seemed slower, as if the sword was drinking the very energy his body used to heal.

Elliot twisted Soulreaver, disengaging the blade lock, and spun into another strike. The shadow serpent reformed, coiling around the blade, and struck again.

Adam’s daggers swept up, intercepting the serpent’s maw. The shadows writhed against the cursed blades, hissing and spitting like oil on fire. He held them back, but the drain intensified. His vision blurred for a moment.

’I can’t let this drag on.’ He gritted his teeth, pushing back against the shadow construct. ’If he keeps draining me, I’ll eventually collapse.’

He needed to end this quickly.

Adam’s aura surged. The Crown of the Hollow Glutton blazed on his brow, its hungry light pushing back against the shadows. The drain didn’t stop, but it slowed.

Elliot’s eyes widened. "What—?"

Adam didn’t answer. He threw both daggers at Elliot’s face.

Elliot twisted, deflecting one with Soulreaver, but the other sliced across his cheek. Blood sprayed, and the cursed dagger’s dark light pulsed as it fed. Elliot stumbled back, his free hand flying to the wound.

Adam was already moving.

[Shadow Lance].

The spear of condensed darkness formed in his palm and shot toward Elliot’s chest. Elliot’s shadows rose to meet it, but the lance punched through, striking his shoulder. He cried out, staggering, but the shadows around him thickened, pulling him backward.

"Secret Shadow Art: Nightfall’s Embrace!"

The darkness swallowed him whole.

Adam’s senses reached out, but Elliot was gone, as if he had stepped into another dimension. The rain fell on empty stone where he had been standing.

’He retreated into the shadows themselves.’

Adam’s chest heaved. The drain was still there, gnawing at him. He could feel his strength ebbing, his regeneration struggling to keep up with the accumulated debt.

"Adam!" Ignis’s voice rang out from across the street. She was holding off a wave of assassins, her flames painting the rain in shades of orange and red. "Are you okay?!"

Adam straightened, wiping blood from his lip. "Fine."

But his internal voice was sharp, assessing.

’That sword... it’s more dangerous than I thought. I can’t let him keep hitting me.’

He scanned the shadows, looking for any sign of Elliot’s return.

The darkness pulsed.

Elliot emerged from the wall of the guild headquarters, his shoulder bleeding, his face a mask of cold fury. Soulreaver blazed in his grip, the runes drinking the light.

"You’re still standing," Elliot said, his voice flat. "Impressive. Most would have collapsed by now."

Adam’s lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile.

"I’m not most."

Elliot’s eyes narrowed. "No. You’re not." He raised Soulreaver, shadows coiling along its edge. "That’s why I’m going to enjoy killing you."

He lunged.

Adam met him head-on.

Adam’s daggers flashed, each strike deflecting Soulreaver’s arc, but the drain was taking its toll. His movements, once fluid, were growing heavier. His breath came in shorter gasps. Elliot pressed harder, sensing weakness.

"Secret Shadow Art: Eclipse Slash!"

Soulreaver blazed with dark light, and Elliot brought it down in a devastating overhead chop. Adam crossed his daggers to block, but the force of the blow drove him to one knee. The stone beneath him cracked.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. ’Now.’

He saw it—a fraction of a second, a gap in Elliot’s guard as he raised Soulreaver for another strike.

Adam made his choice.

He shifted, turning his body so that his left arm was exposed. Elliot’s blade, already in motion, carved through flesh and bone. Adam’s left hand, still clutching a dagger, fell to the ground with a wet thud. Blood sprayed, hot and immediate.

Elliot’s eyes widened. For a moment, satisfaction flickered across his face.

"You—!"

But Adam’s right hand was already moving.

[Venom of the Void].

A concentrated cloud of necrotic poison erupted from his palm, engulfing Elliot’s face, his chest, his sword arm. The guild master gasped, choking, his eyes streaming, his skin blistering where the venom touched.

[Paralytic Neurotoxin Activated. Target immobilized for 10 seconds.]

Elliot’s body went rigid. His sword arm froze mid-swing. His eyes, wide with shock and dawning horror, stared at Adam.

Adam straightened, stepping back from Elliot’s frozen form. Blood poured from the stump of his left wrist, but his regeneration was already working, the wound sealing, new flesh forming. His smile was cold and sharp.

"A very enjoyable fight."

Elliot’s voice came out strangled, barely a whisper.

"Damn... you..."

Adam’s right hand rose. Prismatic light gathered in his palm, rainbow radiance that pushed back the shadows, that blazed brighter than the sun.

"[Prismatic Beam]."

A lance of pure, blinding light exploded from his hand, striking Elliot square in the chest. The shadows that had clung to him, that had protected him, that had made him nearly untouchable, fled before the radiance. They screamed as they dissipated, their hold on Elliot shattered.

Elliot’s body convulsed. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The light consumed him, burning through flesh, bone, soul—searing him from existence.

When the beam faded, nothing remained.

Soulreaver clattered to the stone floor, its dark light extinguished, its runes dim.

The assassins stared.

"The... the master..."

"He’s dead..."

"Impossible..."

"Don’t falter! We can still win!"

Adam turned to face the remaining assassins. His regeneration had already sealed the wound on his wrist, new fingers beginning to form.

"Fools. I’ll exterminate all of you."

Then the shadows shifted.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. He felt them before he saw them—hundreds of presences, encircling the street, the buildings, the rooftops. They had been waiting, watching, holding back until the moment was right.

Now they emerged.

Archers on the rooftops, arrows nocked. Mages in the windows, spells already forming. Swordsmen filling the side streets, blocking every escape.

And at the front, walking through the parting crowd like a king surveying his domain—

Alistair Croft.

His pale grey eyes swept the carnage, taking in the bodies, the blood, the fallen guild master. His weathered face betrayed nothing.

Croft stopped a few paces from Adam, his hands clasped behind his back. His voice was calm, measured.

"Impressive. You destroyed the guild. Just as I asked."

Adam’s crimson eyes blazed with cold fury. His voice was a snarl, savage and venomous.

"Alistair Croft."

The merchant’s lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile.