The creature's transformation was far from over.
New wings unfurled from its back—larger, sharper, pulsing with power. Its face stretched and contorted, becoming longer, more angular. Sadism etched itself into every feature. The red highlights across its body blazed like molten veins, and the markings, once subtle, now shone like ancient runes carved by rage.
The very air shifted. The frozen canyon, already unforgiving, grew colder—unnaturally so. The breath in Kaz's lungs felt like shards of ice.
A pit formed in his stomach.
But it wasn't fear. Not quite.
No... it was something more dangerous.
More twisted.
Butterflies.
Kaz could feel them—fluttering, growing, clawing inside him.
He wanted to fight this thing.
The desire burned hotter than his fear, coiling in his gut like a second heartbeat. It was intoxicating, almost uncontrollable. His eyes ignited, glowing a fierce, unnatural purple.
Then, a cold realization struck him.
This wasn't just adrenaline.
Something inside him was waking up.
This was pure chaos.
And one of Kaz's features thrived on chaos.
They called it Prosper.
It wasn't a spell, nor a skill. It was something deeper—woven into the fabric of who he was. When order broke, when the world spun out of control, Prosper awakened. While others faltered in the storm, Kaz sharpened.
And right now, everything was unraveling.
The Silent Wing had become a demon. The canyon was shattering under the weight of unnatural cold. Power screamed through the air like a living thing.
And Kaz felt alive.
His breath steadied. His vision narrowed. The fear was still there, but now it was fuel. His thoughts moved faster. His instincts clicked into place.
This was his moment.
When chaos reigned, he rose.
Kaz looked at the beast, then at Lloyd. His voice came low and distant, eyes locked on the demon in front of him.
"I might die."
Before Lloyd could respond, Kaz was already moving—vanishing into motion in a single breath, his feet tearing across the ice toward the creature.
Lloyd watched, his eyes narrowing as Kaz's glowing purple gaze burned with reckless resolve. A smirk touched his lips as he muttered to himself, almost too properly:
"This boy is… interesting."
It wasn't the way Lloyd usually spoke. There was a refinement to his tone—measured, deliberate. Kaz didn't notice. No one did.
But something in Lloyd had shifted, too.
A beast of a demonic beast.
Was Kaz crazy?
No—he'd been crazy since the Scorching Isles. But now... it was sinking in. Fully. Irrevocably.
He charged the creature, dark determination etched into every step. For a moment, he felt like he could lift a mountain. He hurled Lonesome Star with lethal force at the demonic Silent Wing—it narrowly missed, slicing past its shoulder.
But Kaz wasn't finished.
His fist crashed into the creature's face with raw power. The impact echoed, but the beast barely flinched.
Its mouth opened wide—too wide—and lunged for Kaz.
But Kaz was ready.
He snapped his finger backward.
The sword obeyed.
Lonesome Star came hurtling through the air like a missile, aimed for the creature's spine—but the beast twisted, its wing catching the blade just in time. A metallic clang rang out, stabbing into Kaz's ears.
He backstepped, barely avoiding the snap of those monstrous fangs.
Then, from the corner of his vision—Lloyd.
He tossed his own sword toward Kaz.
Kaz didn't catch it.
He let it float.
Chaos Control flared to life again, wrapping around the second blade. Normally, he couldn't handle two weapons like this—not with precision. But this fight wasn't normal. The chaos empowered him. Prosper was burning at full force.
Now, two swords circled him like deadly satellites, each crashing into the beast with relentless, rhythmic clangs—one after another.
The demon screeched.
Kaz grinned.
Lloyd snatched his sword mid-air, his movement a blur—too fast for the eye to follow. In a single, precise strike, his blade carved into the demon's flesh, finally drawing real blood.
The beast howled.
While it reeled from the pain, Kaz caught Lonesome Star with a flick of his wrist. Chaos Control surged again—wrapping his arms and legs in a storm of purple flame. It boosted him forward, turning him into a living weapon.
He drove the blade into the demonic beast once more, piercing deep.
But then—everything turned.
The creature let out a shriek, louder and darker than before. This wasn't just sound—it was power.
A radius attack.
Red energy exploded from the beast in all directions, tearing through snow and stone alike. Waves of raw force cracked the canyon floor, shattered icicles, and surged outward like a shockwave of hate.
The purple glow in Kaz's eyes flickered—then vanished.
Before he could brace, the blast hit him.
He was launched like a rag doll, slamming into a distant canyon wall with a sickening crunch. Snow collapsed from the ledges above, burying part of his motionless form in white.
The battlefield fell into a dead, ringing silence.
Kaz couldn't move.
His right foot was broken—badly. Pain throbbed up his leg in sick, pulsing waves. Lloyd wasn't doing any better—he lay completely unconscious, sprawled in the snow, his weapon discarded.
The demonic beast flapped its grotesque wings and began to drift toward Kaz, slowly, deliberately. There was a sick satisfaction in its face, a twisted triumph. It had earned its kill—and it knew it.
Kaz could only watch, paralyzed. His body felt heavy, as if trapped in a dream where his limbs no longer answered. His vision trembled, the corners going dark.
It was like staring down a demon in sleep paralysis.
Was this how it ended?
Forsaken again. Powerless. Broken.
The creature flew with cruel grace, savoring its victory. Its approach was melodic, theatrical—meant to instill fear, to relish the terror in its prey before the final bite.
And when it reached him—so close Kaz could smell the rot on its breath—its mouth opened, wide enough to bite off his head whole. Saliva dripped from jagged teeth.
Just above, Lonesome Star was embedded in the canyon wall, flickering with residual energy.
Kaz didn't blink.
He stared into the creature's eyes.
And spoke.
His voice was low, trembling, but laced with defiance. It darkened with every word.
"I am lost. So lost, in fact, I wondered why the Rift ever chose me…"
He paused. The light returned to his eyes—a glow, fierce and purple.
"…But it doesn't matter."
He breathed in once, shallow.
"You cannot kill me."
Suddenly, a blade launched into the beast's back—Lloyd's sword, moving with unnatural force, guided by Chaos Control.
The demon shrieked in pain—but before it could react—
Lonesome Star ripped itself from the wall and flew forward like judgment.
The blade cleaved straight through the creature's skull, splitting bone and silence alike.
The demonic Silent Wing dropped—dead before it hit the ground.
Its body hit the snow with a heavy thud, steam rising from the corpse as the unnatural heat of its corrupted soul began to fade.
Kaz exhaled. His eyes fluttered.
Then the voice came.
Melodic. Cold. Too close.
The curse.
It whispered directly into his mind—soft as silk, sharp as a dagger.
"You have slain a demonic Rift Beast bearing the Mark of Pride…"
A pause. And then—
"Your greed knows no bounds."
Kaz's breath caught. Darkness closed in fast.
His body, broken. His mind, was fraying.
But even as the void swallowed him, he smiled faintly—half in defiance, half in exhaustion.
Then everything went black.