Chapter 15 The twists of fate
“So this is my end,” Vandal said to no one in particular.
“What’s this feeling in my chest?” Vandal felt something stirring inside his chest, a searing heat that rose to the surface.
A small triangular pendant etched with protective runes, the necklace Vandal had worn since the day he could remember, the necklace burned hot as it pulsed with ancient golden light right above his heart. However, the light shone weakly, like it was on its dying embers, but it was enough to slow the absorption process.
Alarik’s soul, still towering and triumphant inside the mind space, froze mid-laugh.
His eyes widened in pure shock as they locked onto the glowing triangle.
“That… that necklace…” Alarik’s voice cracked. The cruel confidence shattered in an instant. “Where did you get that?!”
Vandal, still half-dissolved and being dragged toward the black hole, forced his fading mouth to move.
“It’s… a family heirloom. My father gave it to me before he died.”
“Liar!” Alarik roared, the word laced with raw pain. He lunged forward, massive hand outstretched, but not attacking. “That exact rune pattern! That triangle! She wore one just like it! It was my gift to her on the day we became betrothed! It belonged to my family for generations! How the hell do you have her necklace?!”
Vandal’s glowing soul flickered as more of him streamed into the hungry eye. Even while being eaten alive, his sharp mind put the pieces together instantly.
He looked straight at Alarik, eyes steady despite the agony. “The important person you’re talking about… is Yemini, isn’t it?”
Alarik staggered as though hit by a heavy blow. His giant form trembled. The mocking grin vanished completely, replaced by stunned grief. “How… how do you know her name?”
Vandal’s voice grew stronger even as half his body dissolved. “Because I know everything, Alarik. I lived as you for a hundred years inside your memories. I felt it all. The slaughter of the giant clan. The night the demons came. I watched Yemini die protecting you. I felt your rage… your loneliness… your love for her. She was two months pregnant when she died. You never even got to tell her you knew.”
Tears… actual tears… formed in the giant’s spectral eyes.
“I also have a little sister I’ve been searching for my entire life,” Vandal continued, voice breaking.
“I’ve never known real family love… but when I lived your memories, I felt it. The bonds with your fellow disciples. The way Yemini looked at you. The warmth of your clan. You were a good man, Alarik. A loving giant. This… taking my body… this isn’t what Yemini would have wanted.”
Alarik stood motionless, fists clenched so tightly the air cracked around them.
“You don’t know me, boy.”
“I do,” Vandal said softly. “I was you for a hundred years.”
A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the hungry pull of the black hole.
Suddenly, Alarik’s eyes sharpened with realization. “The ruin… the sacred pool ruin. Only someone of giant bloodline should have been able to open it. How did you activate the sensor stone?”
Vandal forced a weak smile even as his chest continued to fade. “The stone pricked my hand. The moment my blood touched it… the ruin sucked me in.”
Alarik’s face transformed. Shock. Disbelief. Then something like desperate hope.
“You… you carry giant blood. A half-breed, perhaps… but still of my kin. The last of my bloodline.” His voice shook with emotion. “Then I won’t let this abomination take you.”
Alarik turned toward the black hole, eyes blazing with renewed fury.
“Deal’s off, you parasitic filth! You will not have him!”
The eye pulsed angrily, its pull intensifying on both souls.
Alarik began forming rapid, complex hand signs. The triangular tattoo on the necklace on Vandal’s chest flared brighter, runes spinning with golden light.
“Listen to me, boy,” Alarik said urgently, still signing. “You will take revenge for me. For Yemini. For our entire clan. You have giant blood in your veins, now you will use it properly.”
He slammed a massive palm onto Vandal’s forehead.
A torrent of knowledge flooded Vandal’s mind. Ancient techniques carved themselves into his soul: the complete Nephilim Fists of Destruction, a progressive art with levels that would unlock as he grew stronger. Alongside it came the secret Force Echo Esoteric Arts, brutal techniques only those with giant blood could wield, which perfectly complemented the Berserker Core already fused inside him, as well as blacksmithing techniques for forging echo weapons and accessories.
The knowledge became an ancient black leather book with golden seams that floated within his soul space.
The black hole screamed in fury and tried to devour them both.
Alarik laughed maniacally, a deep, defiant sound that shook the entire mind space.
“You will never be free, you ancient bastard! I’m sealing your consciousness completely!”
He poured everything he had into the hand signs. The triangular tattoo blazed like a miniature sun.
“Vandal! I’m sacrificing what remains of my soul to strengthen the seal on the necklace. You will be able to use the eye’s power… but never too much. Each time you do, the seal weakens. If it ever breaks completely, the entity will be free again. Beware the Six Heralds, I don’t have much time left…”
“Wait! What do you mean by six heralds?” Vandal asked.
“You will know once you see the signs…”
Alarik’s form began to fade, turning translucent.
He looked at Vandal one last time, eyes full of sorrow, pride, and peace.
“Live well, little brother. Avenge us.”
The necklace erupted with blinding golden light. The black hole’s eye widened in terror as it let out a horrifying ancient scream, a sound that seemed to come from the beginning of time itself.
Then… silence.
The eye dimmed. Its pull vanished completely.
Vandal’s soul snapped back together, whole and solid once more. He was the only presence left in his mind space.
Floating before him was a glowing ancient book bound in what looked like living stone and iron. On its cover, in blazing runes, were the words:
Nephilim Fists of Destruction - Volume I
Below it, smaller text shimmered:
Levels will unlock as your body and resonance grow stronger.
Vandal floated there, breathing hard, the translucent triangle on his chest still glowing softly.
He clenched his fist.
For the first time, he felt truly complete, carrying the weight of two bloodlines, two tragedies, and one unbreakable vow.
The Berserker Core in his chest pulsed in harmony with the new techniques, as if finally meeting its true match.
“I will avenge you both,” he whispered into the quiet mind space. “Yemini… Alarik…”
Outside, in the real world, Vandal’s physical body, still lying unconscious in the vault, suddenly twitched. The triangular tattoo on his chest glowed once beneath his torn clothes before fading into his skin.
His eyes slowly opened.
They burned with a new, ancient determination.