The forest lay thick with mist, hanging low over gnarled roots and twisted branches, each shadow seeming to breathe and shift. Daniel Bellhem moved through it with measured steps, leather armor creaking softly, muscles coiled, eyes sharp. Vorrath pulsed faintly in his right hand, humming with insistent hunger, and Scarlune glowed in his left, molten and alive, radiating heat that licked at his skin. The fire blade felt like part of him now, but its power demanded respect—he could not let it consume him, or all he had fought for would be lost.
Ahead, in a small clearing, the Devil-Demon Fire Fruit hung from a charred black tree, the glow of molten red veins beneath the bark illuminating the fog. Daniel's pulse quickened. One touch, one taste, and the path to mastering the Second Blade would open, bringing him closer to the edge of legend. But he knew the forest never offered power freely. Everything had a guardian, everything a price, and tonight, he would pay it in sweat, blood, and fire.
He inhaled deeply, the damp earth, decaying leaves, and faint metallic tang of past battles filling his senses. His body, still recovering from yesterday's injuries thanks to the lingering power of the Fire Fruit, hummed with potential energy. Scarlune felt almost sentient in his grip, whispering, "Come back… to me." Vorrath, always hungry, waited silently for the order, for the chance to feed, but Daniel's mind was clear. Control first. Hunger second. Strength without discipline was death.
A low growl rolled through the mist. Daniel's eyes snapped open. Shadows shifted. Movement at the edges of the clearing. Three figures emerged, their forms massive and twisted. The first fiend, muscles bulging beneath blackened, scorched skin, lunged with molten orange eyes blazing. The second slithered like smoke, claws extended, jagged horns scraping the fog. And the last, towering and intelligent, regarded him with a cold, calculating gaze, tusks curving like scythes from its snarling jaw.
Daniel did not hesitate. He whispered the summoning command under his breath, and both blades seemed to spring to life. Vorrath spun through the air, Scarlune blazing like molten sunlight, circling him before returning to his hands, fitting perfectly as if they had never left. He felt a thrill of satisfaction—he could summon them at will now. Not only did they obey his grip, they obeyed his intent.
The fiends charged.
Daniel rolled under the first swipe, claws tearing at the ground where he had knelt. Scarlune hissed as it struck, fire lancing across the creature's shoulder, cauterizing blackened wounds. Vorrath followed in a perfect arc, slicing deep, red veins flaring along its edge. The creature stumbled, screeching, but did not fall. The second fiend struck from the side, faster, claws slicing the misty air. Daniel pivoted, spinning both blades in a blur, Scarlune igniting sparks across the fog, Vorrath humming with hungry precision, each strike measured, calculated. The air shimmered from heat and tension.
And then the largest fiend lunged. Its tusks tore through the mist, eyes locked on him with uncanny intelligence. Daniel felt pain flare in his ribs from a grazing strike, but he forced himself taller. I am not fighting monsters tonight. I am fighting my own limits. Every scar, every wound, every memory honed him for this moment. Mimi's face, emerald eyes wide and trusting, floated behind his mind's eye. I will see her again. I cannot fail.
The fiend's claws tore through his side again, knocking him down. Pain, hunger, and rage surged together, but he forced them into control, letting the blades guide his strikes. He rolled to his knees, swung Vorrath, spun into Scarlune, igniting the fog with flames and steel. Sparks met tusks, claws met steel, and the forest trembled with the impact. Shadows recoiled, leaves shimmered, embers floated through the mist.
With a leap, he spun, both blades flying in perfect arcs around him, scorching the ground, cutting the fiend's chest, and then calling their summoning:
"Vorrath! Scarlune! Back to me!"
They shot through the air with deadly precision, landing perfectly in his hands. The largest fiend froze, stunned by the sudden, coordinated strike. Daniel lunged, slashing clean through the creature's heart. Its roar echoed, then faded, leaving a silence that seemed unnatural in the misty forest. The two smaller fiends had fallen seconds earlier, and the clearing felt hollow with victory.
Daniel dropped to his knees, chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping onto the scorched earth. His mind raced. The summoning worked. The blades no longer merely obeyed; they responded to his intent, to his will, to his very heartbeat. Power had shifted, and the forest seemed to acknowledge it, holding its breath.
He pressed the handkerchief Mimi had given him to his chest, inhaling the faint floral scent, grounding himself. I will see her again. I must.
The forest, however, did not sleep. Eyes glimmered in the shadows, creatures measuring him, judging, waiting. The victories he had earned were temporary. The monsters of Astrid would not relent, nor would the forces of darkness that gnawed at the edges of kingdoms. But tonight, Daniel had gained more than survival. He had gained control, mastery, and confidence. The blades were no longer weapons; they were part of him.
From the edge of the clearing, a shadow lingered. Not a beast, not a fiend, but an intelligent presence, patient, observing. Its eyes glimmered red, reflecting Scarlune's flames. It watched him, and whispered through the mist, cold and deliberate:
"The boy grows stronger… but he knows nothing of what waits."
Daniel did not see it. He did not know that the forest had marked him. But destiny had. And the world would not forget.