Lucavion stood before Aldric's ruined body, his breath ragged, his vision pulsing with the agony threatening to consume him. The headless corpse lay sprawled before him, its severed limbs painting the ground in crimson. The night air was thick with the scent of blood, heavy with the finality of what had just transpired.
Then, the pain struck.
"Urghk—!"
His body convulsed, a violent tremor wracking his frame as another surge of blood erupted from his lips. His knees buckled, and for the first time in his life, he truly felt it—pain beyond the battlefield, beyond wounds that would heal with time.
This was different.
Deep. Crippling. Unforgiving.
Like his very existence was fracturing from within.
His fingers dug into the stone beneath him, knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep himself upright. But the weight—the sheer crushing weight of what he had done, what he had pushed himself beyond—threatened to drag him into oblivion.
Then, a voice.
[Lucavion.]
