The first clash shattered the plains.
Kael's control collided with overwhelming force, soul-threads snapping like glass under strain. The Devourer fed openly, devouring entire clusters of the dead to fuel its assault. Each consumption sent waves of power rippling outward.
Kael bled from the nose, vision blurring as he struggled to maintain control without surrendering.
The hunger screamed.
This was the moment.
He could feel it....the threshold. One choice away from becoming something else entirely. Not a hero. Not a demon. Something beyond both.
He reached inward, deeper than ever before not into the hunger, but into what remained of his humanity: memory, pain, love, fear, restraint.
The Sight changed.
Instead of pulling souls inward, Kael pushed outward burning fragments of his own power, sacrificing growth for control.
The dead hesitated.
For the first time, the Devourer looked uncertain.
Kael collapsed to one knee, gasping, weaker than he had ever been since awakening, but still himself.
The battle was far from over.
But the path was chosen.
And whether the world would be saved or destroyed would no longer depend on how much Kael could consume....
...but on how much of himself he was willing to give up to remain human.