Chapter 190: The Black Pyramid [3]
The passage beyond the Warden’s chamber sloped downward into darkness.
Damon led the group through the narrow corridor, the Chaos Devourer’s hum growing louder with each step.
The walls were lined with ancient scripts, their meaning lost to time, pulsing with faint residual energy.
Ariel walked close behind him, her trident ready. Mio and Mia flanked the group, their eyes scanning for threats. Seraphina brought up the rear, wind energy coiled around her hands.
The corridor opened into a massive hall.
Damon stopped at the threshold.
The hall stretched for hundreds of feet, its ceiling lost in darkness. Pillars of obsidian lined the path, each carved with dragons coiled around their length. At the far end, a throne sat atop a raised platform.
And on the throne sat a figure.
A man.
Or what had once been a man.
His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes were closed. He wore ancient robes, black and gold, and a crown of twisted metal rested on his head.
In his hands, he held a sword.
A blade of pure darkness.
The Chaos Devourer reacted.
It pulled in Damon’s grip, trying to fly toward the sword.
Damon held it back.
"Careful," he said.
The figure on the throne opened his eyes.
They were black. Completely black. No whites, no pupils.
"Welcome," the figure said, his voice echoing through the hall. "I was wondering when someone would come."
Damon stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"I am the one who was left behind. The guardian of the final fragment."
"There’s another fragment?"
"There is always another fragment."
The figure stood, his movements fluid, unnatural. He descended from the throne, his sword trailing behind him.
"The Chaos Devourer was broken into seven pieces," he said. "You have three. Four remain."
Damon’s grip tightened on his sword.
"I’m not here to fight you."
"Then why are you here?"
"To get stronger."
The figure laughed. "Then you will fight me. Because I am the only thing in this pyramid that can make you stronger."
He raised his sword.
"I am the Echo of the First Wielder. The man who broke the sword in the first place."
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
"You broke it?"
"I did. Because it was too powerful. Because it would have consumed everything."
He pointed his sword at Damon.
"And now you carry it. You carry the burden I could not bear."
Damon was silent for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"I’m not you."
The Echo’s eyes widened.
"Then prove it."
He vanished.
Damon reacted instantly, raising the Chaos Devourer to block.
The Echo appeared above him, his sword crashing down.
The impact sent shockwaves through the hall. The pillars cracked. The ground split.
Damon held his ground, boots grinding against the fractured stone as the shockwave rolled outward in all directions.
He held, but only barely, his arms trembling with the effort, the bones in his wrists aching under the sheer, crushing weight of the Echo’s blade pressing against his own.
The Echo’s strength was immense. Far beyond the Warden’s raw, lumbering power.
Where the Warden had fought with the blunt ferocity of a battering ram, the Echo fought with something older and more precise — a cold, absolute pressure, like the last breath before a world ended.
Every exchange chipped away at Damon’s footing, every parry sent white-hot pain crawling up through his shoulders.
But Damon had something the Warden had never possessed. Something that lived in his blood, coiled deep inside him like a sleeping predator waiting to be called upon.
The Incubus Lord’s Bloodline.
He drew on it now.
It answered him instantly, rushing up through his chest like a tide breaking through a dam, warm and vast and ferociously alive.
Red energy erupted from his body, forming a devil aura around him. His strength multiplied.
He pushed the Echo back.
The Echo landed on a pillar, his black eyes studying Damon.
"The Devil’s Bloodline," he said. "Impressive. But not enough."
He attacked again.
This time, his sword left trails of darkness. Each strike warped space, creating tears in reality.
Damon dodged. Parried. Countered.
But the Echo was faster.
A slash caught Damon’s arm, drawing blood.
He gritted his teeth and kept fighting.
’I need more power.’
The Chaos Devourer pulsed in his hand.
’Take it.’ a voice whispered.
’Take my power. Let me in.’
Damon hesitated.
’You want to win, don’t you? You want to protect your women. You want to become the strongest.’
’Let me in.’
Damon looked at the Echo, who was already preparing another attack.
He looked at his women, watching from the entrance, ready to jump in if he fell.
He looked at the Chaos Devourer.
’No.’
The voice fell silent.
Damon raised his sword.
"I don’t need your power," he said. "I have my own."
He activated the Incubus Lord’s Bloodline fully.
His eyes turned gold. His aura exploded outward, shaking the entire pyramid.
The Echo paused.
"What is this?"
"This is me."
Damon charged.
He crossed the distance in an instant, the Chaos Devourer trailing azure lightning.
The Echo raised his sword to block.
Damon’s strike shattered it.
The blade broke into pieces, scattering across the hall.
The Echo stared at his empty hands.
"How..."
Damon didn’t answer.
He drove the Chaos Devourer into the Echo’s chest.
The Echo’s body dissolved, turning into black mist that was absorbed by the sword.
The hall fell silent.
Damon stood there, breathing hard, the azure aura fading from his body.
He looked at the Chaos Devourer.
The sword was quiet now.
But he could feel it watching him.
Waiting.
He sheathed it and turned to his companions.
"Let’s find the fragment."
They found it behind the throne.
A small piece of black crystal, floating in a containment formation.
Damon approached it carefully.
The fragment pulsed with dark energy, responding to the Chaos Devourer.
He reached out and touched it.
The fragment dissolved into light and flowed into the sword.
The Chaos Devourer shuddered.
Then it went still.
Damon smiled.
"Not bad."
He turned to his companions.
"Let’s get out of here."