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Prototype's Gate
Act 2. Chapter 52

Act 2. Chapter 52

Ketheric’s skull couldn’t express emotion, but if it could, it would be twisted in frustration and disbelief. This was supposed to be his moment of triumph—his ultimate gambit to drag his enemies into the Shadowfell, sever their divine connections, and crush them with his own newfound power. But now, as he faced Alex, something was horribly wrong. His plan was unraveling before his eyes.

"Bringing them here was supposed to weaken them,' Ketheric thought, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the overwhelming strength Alex now displayed. Shar had promised him superiority in the Shadowfell—promised him victory.

But Alex was stronger. Much stronger.

Ketheric summoned his shield just in time to block a crushing blow from Alex. The force was unlike anything he’d experienced before. His knees buckled under the impact, the sound of metal against metal echoed like thunder across the twisted, ghostly landscape.

“What in all the hells—” Ketheric gritted his teeth, raising his mace to strike back. But Alex was gone, dissolving into shadow and smoke before Ketheric could retaliate.

Panic flickered through him—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in lifetimes. His gaze darted around, desperately searching for Alex, when a sudden shadow loomed over him. His eyes shot upward.

“Shit.”

Alex was diving down from above like a wraith. Ketheric barely raised his shield in time, the impact sending tremors through his bones. The sheer force of the blow cracked the stones beneath him, shattering the earth like glass .

Ketheric’s thoughts raced frantically. "He’s not just faster. He’s stronger—how did he hide this much power? He’s been holding back this entire time!"

Alex vanished again in a swirl of smoke and shadow, his form blurring into the dark mist of the Shadowfell. Ketheric’s undead eyes scanned wildly, his senses frayed. He couldn’t predict Alex’s movements anymore, couldn’t keep up with his shifting presence. Every second he spent fighting felt like he was slipping closer to defeat.

'I can’t lose. Not again. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed. I can't let her die again.'

In a last-ditch effort, Ketheric slammed his mace into the ground with a deafening roar, shadowy tendrils whipping outward in a furious storm. The shadows gathered and swirled around him, transforming his body. His armor expanded, warping into an enormous, towering figure—a monstrous knight, towering nearly 10 meters tall , shrouded in the suffocating darkness of the Shadowfell. His mace grew to match his new size, an enormous weapon of pure void and death. His form was a blackened colossus, a giant of shadow and despair, and the earth cracked beneath his feet as he stood in his terrifying glory.

"You think you can stand against me?" Ketheric’s voice boomed, now a distorted growl that echoed through the realm like an avalanche of malice. He lifted his massive mace high, and with a thunderous crash, he slammed it down onto the ground.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, debris flying in every direction. The undead hordes were flung back like ragdolls, their bones shattered by the force of the blow. The very air trembled under the weight of Ketheric’s strike. His power reverberated through the Shadowfell, the sky above swirling with ominous dark clouds, flickering with bursts of necrotic lightning.

Alex dodged backward, his movements fluid, almost too fast for the eye to follow. He weaved through the chaos, avoiding the debris and the tidal wave of shadows that exploded from Ketheric’s mace. But Ketheric wasn’t done. The ground around him cracked open like the mouth of an abyss, and from the gaping chasm, two monstrous creatures crawled forth.

They were giants, each nearly as tall as Ketheric, their forms cloaked in swirling shadows, with glowing red eyes peering out from beneath dark hoods. Their limbs were grotesque and malformed, their massive fists dripping with necrotic energy as they rose from the earth like the twisted spawn of nightmares.

Alex’s heart pounded, but his resolve never wavered. He stood his ground as the giants advanced, their thunderous footsteps shaking the ground. His grip tightened around his blade.

Ketheric’s booming laughter filled the air. “You’re alone, Alex! This is my domain, and you will never escape! Not alive. Not ever.”

But Alex’s eyes narrowed, his body calm, centered. He could feel the rhythm of the battle.

With a sudden surge of energy, Alex charged forward, his every movement fluid, precise. The first shadow giant’s colossal fist swung toward him, the very air seeming to scream as the blow came down with the weight of a mountain. But Alex was faster. His instincts sharp, he ducked low, his body sliding beneath the giant’s legs like a shadow in the night. In one swift motion, his blade sliced cleanly through the giant’s Achilles tendon.

The beast let out a guttural roar, its knees buckling as it collapsed, writhing in pain. But Alex didn’t hesitate. Spinning on his heel, he delivered a devastating upward slash, severing the giant’s body in two. Its enormous halves tumbled to the ground with a thunderous crash, sending waves of dust and debris into the air.

Alex's breathing was steady, but his eyes flickered with intensity. He dashed backward as the second giant, still looming behind him, swung its fist with enough force to obliterate him where he stood. The ground cracked beneath the impact, but Alex had already moved, dancing just beyond its reach.

He glanced back at the first giant, expecting it to be finished. But the massive form was already mending, its dark limbs knitting back together as though his strikes had been meaningless. The giant’s body reformed, whole again, rising to its feet like nothing had happened.

A cold realization settled over Alex. 'Without my radiant energy, I can’t kill them,' he thought grimly. The darkness that now coursed through him gave him power but had robbed him of the divine light that could truly destroy these creatures. 'But that just means I need to focus on their master.'

As if sensing his thoughts, the second giant charged at him, its monstrous shadowy hands outstretched, ready to crush him in its grip. Alex leaped high into the air, soaring above the giant’s reach, his blade trailing a streak of shadow and void behind it. He came down with ferocious strength. The strike was brutal, splitting the beast open—but like its counterpart, it simply began to reform, the dark energies pulling it back together.

Before Alex could react, a terrible presence filled the battlefield.

Ketheric Thorm joined the fray.

The shadow knight, now a towering figure of dark power, stormed toward Alex with fury radiating from his twisted form. His mace, larger than life, crackled with malevolent energy, and he raised it high, aiming to crush Alex beneath its devastating weight.

But this time, Alex didn’t move. He didn’t dodge, didn’t retreat. Instead, he planted his feet firmly into the shattered ground, the earth cracking under the tension of the imminent clash. His heart pounded, but his mind was clear. He could feel the dark power surging within him, tendrils of shadow wrapping around him like a protective armor,.

Ketheric’s massive mace came crashing down with the force of an avalanche, the world itself seeming to tremble under its weight. But just before the impact, Alex raised his hand. The shadows around him obeyed his will, surging upward in a dark, swirling barrier of pure energy.

The clash was monumental.

Ketheric’s mace slammed into the shadow barrier with a deafening boom, the force sending shockwaves across the battlefield. For a moment, time itself seemed to freeze. The world stood still, caught in the tension of the strike. Dust hung in the air, the only sound the slow, echoing hum of raw power.

Ketheric’s eyes widened in disbelief. His mace—his weapon of destruction, empowered by Shar herself—had stopped cold, mere inches from Alex’s head. The sheer force that should have flattened Alex had been utterly neutralized. The dark lord's hands trembled under the pressure, his mind struggling to comprehend how his once unbreakable power had met an unstoppable force.

"You’ve already lost," Alex said, his voice calm, unwavering, but it carried a weight that made the air around them feel heavy. It wasn’t a taunt; it was a simple statement of fact.

Ketheric staggered back, his towering form flickering for just a moment. His once impenetrable confidence now fractured like glass under a hammer.

In that moment, Alex advanced, his blade shimmering with the eerie glow of void and shadow. "You thought this realm would weaken me," Alex said, his voice now low and cold, "but all it’s done is set me free."

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With a sudden, devastating motion, Alex swung his blade upward, cutting through Ketheric’s mace like it was made of brittle stone. The massive weapon shattered into fragments, dissolving into the void from which it was forged. Ketheric stumbled back, his armored body flickering, the dark tendrils of power that surrounded him beginning to falter.

The void spread beneath their feet like a thick, inky tar, the air itself seemed to grow heavier. The barbed tentacles of Evard's Black Tentacles emerged from the void, twisting and coiling like serpents of pure malevolence. They lashed out with terrifying speed, ensnaring the shadow giants in their iron-like grip. The giants roared, their massive forms regenerating almost as quickly as they were torn apart, yet their regeneration was futile against the overwhelming force. The tendrils pierced through their dark essence, rooting deep into the very core of their beings. Their roars of fury turned to desperate cries as they fought against an enemy they could not defeat.

But it was Ketheric who felt the deepest despair.

The void-born tentacles constricted around him, tighter with each passing second. His once imposing, armor-clad form, blessed by Shar herself, now trembled under the weight of the eldritch power that sought to crush him. His skull-like visage, unable to show emotion, betrayed him in its stillness. For the first time since he'd embraced the darkness, Ketheric felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel—fear.

It gripped him like a vice, tightening with every second as the reality of his situation sank in. His body writhed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had left, but it was useless. The void , he had him, and the tendrils coiled tighter, dragging him deeper into its suffocating embrace. His strength was nothing here. He was nothing here.

The darkness he had embraced, the power of Shar and Myrkul that once made him invincible, seemed distant now, as if even the Goddess of Loss had abandoned him.

Alex opened up his chest reveling the orb nested inside ready to devour his strength. From the hollow sockets where his eyes once were, dark tar-like tears began to seep, dripping down his skull like the physical manifestation of his broken soul. Each drop that fell seemed to pulse with his desperation, as though the shadows themselves wept for him.

"I can’t die," Ketheric muttered, but it was no longer a declaration of defiance. It was a plea, weak and trembling. His voice cracked with a raw, aching fear that he hadn’t felt in centuries. "If I die... she dies too."

His thoughts turned to Isobel, his daughter—his reason for everything. His failure echoed in his mind, louder than any roar from the giants, louder than any sound on the battlefield. He had betrayed everything, sacrificed everything, for her, to revive her. But now, it was slipping away. The control, the power—it was all unraveling before him, faster than he could comprehend.

Ketheric’s voice became frantic, as if saying the words could somehow change his fate. "Isobel, my sweet girl—" His voice cracked again, the last syllable breaking into a pathetic sob. "I did it all for you..." But no one was listening. No one could save him.

As the tentacles' grip tightened further, Ketheric's mind raced, desperate to find a way out, any way out. But there was none. The fear gnawed at him, consuming him from within. He was going to die, and with him, his daughter. In his final moments, the mighty Ketheric Thorm was reduced to nothing more than a father terrified of failing his child.

His body spasmed violently in the tentacle's unyielding grasp, the panic consuming him whole. "No, no, no!" Ketheric’s thoughts screamed as his vision began to blur, the edges of his consciousness slipping away .

And then, with one final, deafening explosion of energy, everything around him shattered. The ground flattened in a massive shockwave that rippled outwards, leaving devastation in its wake.

When the dust settled, Alex remained standing amid the devastation. His body was battered, parts of it missing, but already regenerating with an eerie, unnatural speed. His dark armor reformed like liquid shadows, tendrils stitching him back together.

His gaze swept across the battlefield. The undead were still coming, relentless and endless. The shadow giants, while slowed, were reforming yet again, but Ketheric—the one he needed to destroy—was nowhere in sight. "He ran," Alex realized.

The shadow around him shimmered and he teleported, reappearing beside Aylin, who was locked in fierce combat with a group of undead. The creatures didn’t even have a chance to react before a massive shadowy maw formed, swallowing them whole, their anguished cries echoing briefly before being silenced forever.

"Ketheric has left the Shadowfell," Alex said to Aylin, his voice calm, but there was a tension beneath it.

Aylin, bloodied and bruised, let out a heavy breath. "Then we need to leave too," she said, her voice filled with exhaustion but laced with unyielding resolve.

Dark, ethereal wings unfurled from Alex’s back, their form reminiscent of the shadows that now fueled his power. He extended his hand to Aylin. Despite her weariness, she smirked, a small spark of bravado shining through. "What a gentleman," she said, her tone teasing, though her body sagged with fatigue.

As Alex wrapped his arms around Aylin, her wings folded close against his chest . She was to tired to fly . They ascended into the oppressive, ashen sky of the Shadowfell. The air was thick with the weight of despair, the landscape below a twisted, muted echo of life. But Alex, moved with purpose.

The shadows that had once clung to him like a second skin began to dissolve, peeling away like smoke caught in the wind. Beneath the shifting darkness, his true armor was revealed—dark plates that pulsed faintly with a fiery glow. Thin, flickering lines of molten energy seeped through the cracks where the plates met, as if the very essence of his power was struggling to break free.

Aylin glanced back at him, her breath catching in her throat. Something primal, radiated from him. His eyes where no where to be seen ,covered by a faceless mask.

“Alex... you...” Aylin’s voice faltered, her usual confidence shaken by the transformation she saw in him.

Alex said nothing, but his grip tightened around her waist as they flew higher, his gaze locked on the horizon. The fiery light that seeped from his armor flared brighter, casting long, burning shadows across the sky. He was trying to reach the Weave, to grasp the threads of magic that connected worlds. But here, in the Shadowfell, the Weave was twisted, corrupted by the shadowy echoes of the real world. It fought against him, resisted his control, like oil and water refusing to mix.

Then, with a sudden, powerful surge, the air in front of them ripped open.

A swirling, fiery portal formed, its edges crackling with unstable energy. Beyond it, the familiar sight of the Moonrise Towers shimmered. The portal wasn't smooth, though—it burned, fiery trails spiraling outward like the wake of a comet. The energy was volatile, but it was a way out.

“Hold on,” Alex muttered, his voice low and strained.

As they passed through the portal, a shockwave of energy burst behind them, a final desperate attempt from the Shadowfell to keep them imprisoned. The heat of the fiery trail lingered in the air for a moment longer before being swallowed by the void.

As they disappeared into the portal, a lone white crow, perched on a twisted tree, observed them from afar before taking flight itself, its pale feathers a stark contrast against the dark landscape.

They reappeared on the rooftop of the tower. Ketheric was there, but no longer the armored knight of darkness. He was kneeling, broken and vulnerable, in his mortal form—a man again. His once-mighty presence had crumbled.

Alex and Aylin approached, their weapons ready to end him for good. But before they could strike, Aylin faltered. Without warning, she turned her sword on herself, plunging it into her own abdomen. Her wings trembled, and her face twisted in pain.

"Aylin!" Alex shouted, his heart lurching in shock.

But then he felt it—a psychic invasion like nothing he had ever encountered. A monstrous, alien intelligence bore down upon him, its sheer power pressing against his mind like a storm. It was a force beyond anything he had faced, its presence so vast and tyrannical .

"The Elder Brain," Alex whispered, his voice barely audible as he fought against the psionic tendrils wrapping around his consciousness, attempting to subdue him, to crush his will. He could sense its presence all around him, its hunger for domination, for control. It was trying to take them both down in one fell swoop.

As Alex’s mental defenses buckled under the weight of the Elder Brain’s psychic assault, a massive tentacle shot up from one of the adjacent towers. Its form was grotesque, writhing as it reached for Ketheric, wrapping around him with terrifying speed. Ketheric, still kneeling , was snatched away in an instant, dragged into the depths of the tower below.

"NO!" Alex roared, his mind pushing back against the psychic onslaught. But it was too late. Ketheric had been taken, pulled away to the Elder Brain’s lair.

Alex’s gaze turned to Aylin as she slowly rose to her feet. No sign of the wound remained on her abdomen, save for the faint, vertical slit left by the sword when it had pierced her. Silvery light enveloped her form, a divine aura mending her armor back to pristine condition. The grime and blood that once clung to her were swept away as if by some celestial hand.

“That piece of shit Ketheric escaped. We must follow him.” Her voice was laced with fury, her teeth gritted as her piercing gaze fixated on the hollow tower, the place from where the tentacle had emerged and dragged Ketheric away.

Alex nodded, his body already shifting. Flesh wove itself rapidly into a pristine white armor that gleamed faintly in the dim light. The transformation was both unsettling and beautiful, the dark energies he once wielded now replaced with a radiance that seemed almost divine.

Aylin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You must tell me what, in the full moon, you are,” she said, her tone sharp yet curious. “You’re clearly no aasimar.”

Alex’s weapon, Phalar Aluve, pulsed back into its radiant form, its glow matching the purity of his new armor. He glanced at her.

“Even if I told you,” Alex said, his voice calm and steady, “I don’t think you would understand.”

Aylin crossed her arms, watching as Alex strode towards the edge of the hollow tower. “Intelligence was never my forte,” she admitted with a sly grin, “but I think I’d understand if you explain it simply.”

Alex didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were locked on the abyss below, a swirling mass of corruption, flesh, and decay. The walls of the narrow tower were covered in grotesque, pulsing flesh, clinging to the stone like some parasitic growth. Flies buzzed incessantly, drawn to the foul stench that filled the air.

“That’s disgusting,” Aylin muttered, her face twisting in revulsion. “It reminds me of Balthazar.”

“This will likely lead us to the mind flayer colony,” Alex said, his tone colder now, his focus sharpening. “Are you ready?”

Aylin raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Why are you asking me? I’m following you, not the other way around.”

Alex took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down the fleshy pit. 'It seems Eilistraee’s influence is making me more gentle,' he thought wryly to himself. But there was no room for hesitation now.

Without another word, he leapt into the abyss, plunging into the darkness below. The descent was swift, the stench of rot and decay thick in the air as he hurtled down the tower’s vile depths. His thoughts flickered briefly to Aylin following behind him, the two of them hurtling toward whatever horrors awaited below.