Saren lunged again, hammer raised. The weapon screamed through the air and crashed into the ground where Vera had just been.
Stone exploded, chunks flying. The impact would've flattened her if she hadn't rolled to the side in time, one blade flashing upward to nick his shoulder.
Another shallow cut.
Another flash of molten blood, this time, darker.
Thicker.
It sizzled against the stone, smoking.
Nola caught the detail, even while ducking a follow-up swing.
He's slowing down.
She couldn't tell if it was hope or a trick. But something was off.
Saren growled and spun toward her, movements still brutal, but no longer effortless. His strikes were just a fraction too late. His guard, a little sloppier. He coughed suddenly, sharp and guttural, blood spattering across his gauntlet.
Not red like it should be.
But black and slimy.
A pause rippled across the battlefield.
Tris spoke from his perch. "He doesn't look good."
Saren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"It's nothing. I will still kill you." He roared.
But his stance wavered.
Felix pushed himself upright, blood on his brow. He saw it too.
"The sigil. It's costing him."
"The glyph on his chest?" Nola asked, floating beside him.
Felix nodded. "It's not just power, it's decay. That kind of artifact burns from the inside. It's feeding him... but it's hollowing him out."
"He's burning both ends," Vera muttered, climbing to her feet again, blades shaking in her grip. "We just have to hold the flame long enough."
Saren heard it.
He snarled.
"I am beyond all of you."
He charged again, roaring, swinging his hammer wide. Nola and Vera both scattered, dodging in separate directions. The hammer hit nothing but stone—but the shockwave split the floor again, nearly knocking Tris off his footing.
But they were learning.
They moved together now, wounded, yes, but coordinated.
Nola struck low while Vera aimed high. Tris fired ricochets not to damage, but to drive Saren's movements, to herd him.
Felix summoned barriers that shimmered, breaking Saren's line of sight just long enough for ambushes. Even half-conscious, Ari's earlier runes still clung to their armor, dull but steady, one last gift from their fallen support.
The battle turned from desperate survival into a relentless press.
Saren kept fighting.
Kept winning moments.
But the momentum was shifting.
His swings were still deadly but they began to miss. His blocks grew slower. When he raised his hammer again, he hesitated.
Nola dashed forward, a golden blur. Her katana slashed across his ribs, drawing another splash of black blood. The wound hissed.
Saren grunted, knees bending. He tried to rise, but a flicker of pain crossed his face. Just for a second.
He coughed again, this time hard.
Black slime spilled from his mouth.
Dripping.
Burning holes in the stone where it landed.
He dropped to one knee.
"No…" he snarled. "No, this power was mine. I earned it."
Felix stepped forward, voice firm. "You twisted yourself into something that was never meant to be. That glyph's not a gift. It's a leash."
Saren roared and lunged again but Vera met him mid-charge.
She didn't dodge.
She tanked it.
Her blade stabbed into his side just as he swung, throwing his attack wide. Tris loosed an arrow that ricocheted twice before embedding in his thigh.
Nola was already moving.
Her katana struck clean into the center of the black glyph on his chest.
There was no scream.
Just silence.
Then a sound like glass cracking.
The glyph splintered.
Black light erupted from it, veins of shadow tearing through Saren's armor, his skin, the air itself. His eyes widened, not with rage.
With clarity.
"No," he whispered, voice suddenly small. "No, not yet. I was… I was going to-"
The light exploded outward.
Everyone shielded their eyes.
When it faded, Saren lay sprawled at the base of the ruin wall, armor cracked, the hammer a few feet from his outstretched hand.
Smoke drifted from his chest.
The glyph was gone.
Just a burn mark remained, charred and empty.
Nola dropped to one knee, katana still buzzing in her grip.
Tris exhaled hard. "Is he…?"
Felix approached slowly, runes forming at his fingertips. "I think it's over."
Saren coughed again, but less violently. He looked up, no longer defiant. Just broken.
"You weren't supposed… to make it this far."
Vera walked closer, blood running down her cheek. "And you weren't supposed to be the final boss."
He gave a weak, bitter smile.
"You're not ready… for what's next."
Then his head rolled to the side.
Unconscious.
Alive but barely.
But beaten.
They didn't cheer.
They didn't collapse in celebration.
They just stood there, breathing, bloodied, burned, but intact.
Ari groaned in the distance. Still unconscious, but stirring a little.
Nola finally looked at the others. "Secure him. Then we check what he was protecting."
Because this wasn't the end.
Just the breach.
And beyond Saren Draal…
was whatever he had been afraid of.
The team began to approach, weapons low but still ready. Saren wasn't moving. His body twitched once, then lay still again.
His breath came in shallow rattles, black blood leaking from the cracked sigil on his chest. The ruin was silent now, dust curling lazily in the fractured beams of dying light.
Then he screamed.
It wasn't a wounded scream.
It was ripped from his lungs, raw and primal, filled with something worse than pain.
It was fear.
Nola froze mid-step.
A shadow moved, not from the ceiling, not from the walls, but from within Saren.
Something peeled upward from his back like it had been latched to his spine.
And then it was there.
A creature squatted on top of Saren's chest, its fingers buried into his ribcage like claws harvesting marrow.
It has long limbs, too long, impossibly thin and jointed the wrong way. Its body was hairless, oily black, its skin so slick it reflected no light, only shapes. Patches of bone jutted out from its spine like broken spires.
Its head was stretched and angular, mouth too wide and filled with rows of teeth so fine they looked like needles.
No eyes. Just skin pulled tight over bone. Its tongue lolled from its maw, dripping something dark and bubbling.
Click.
Click click.
The sound came from its throat or maybe from its twitching fingers, as it clicked in delight, tongue flicking over Saren's screaming face.
It ate something in him.
"Back," Vera said immediately, blades raised again.
But the creature didn't acknowledge them.
It leaned down, mouth hovering above the broken glyph, and inhaled. Black vapor, thick and violent, poured from the mark into its throat. Saren convulsed beneath it, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent howl.
Felix whispered, "That's what the glyph was for…"
"It was a tether," Nola said. "To this monstrosity."
The demon clicked again, louder now. Rhythmic. Almost musical.
Then it looked at them.
Or toward them, since it had no eyes. Just the tilt of its head, slow and unnatural, like a puppet whose strings were twitching.
It smiled.
The skin of its face tore as it stretched, revealing more teeth, more blood. It crouched lower, licking Saren's jaw.
Tris nearly retched. "What the hell is it doing?"
"Feeding," Vera said. "It doesn't want his body. It wants what's left of his soul."
The creature slowly rose, standing on its long, splintered legs. Still grinning. Its arms hung almost to its feet, claws twitching with hunger. It turned to them, not attacking, just watching.
"Not now," it rasped. The voice was layered, whispers over growls, as if more than one mouth spoke from a single throat.
"Soon."
Then it dropped backward into the stone beneath Saren like water down a drain, pulling the shadows with it.
Gone.
Saren slumped to the side, his soul gone.