Chapter 119 A BLADE BETWEEN FRIENDS

Chapter 119 A BLADE BETWEEN FRIENDS
"Darren!" Magnus yelled, making one last attempt to reach his friend. "Please! You don't want to do this! Wake up! I know you're still in there!"

He ducked just in time to avoid a claw aimed at his chest. "Snap out of it, man! I don't want to hurt you. You're my friend—"

The half-breed slammed a heavy boot into Magnus's chest, sending the sorcerer flying. Even with a hasty floating spell to break his fall, Magnus hit the ground hard, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.

"Magnus!" Xyra cried out, straining her eyes against the haze. She knew he had been taking a beating throughout the fight. If he didn't make it, she didn't know how she would survive this endless nightmare.

Through the dust, Magnus pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He coughed violently, his chest burning from the blow. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, making him gag as he spat it onto the dirt. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and forced himself to stand, though his legs shook violently. His arms, legs, and chest were covered in deep cuts. He was bleeding from everywhere, his strength nearly gone.

Above him, Darren hovered in the air with a cruel smile. Dark, demonic blood splattered his transformed body and coated his claws. The hunter who had once vowed never to spill human blood was now covered in it, and he was enjoying every second.

Darren… you really are gone, aren't you? Magnus thought, despair washing over him. All my training, all those years studying spells… none of it matters. I can't save you.

He felt completely helpless. There were no magic words left to say. His friend was lost. Then, an old memory flashed in his mind. Darren's voice, spoken days before: "Magnus… do what you have to. I know you'll do what's right." The true meaning of those words finally hit him. Darren had known this might happen. He didn't want to win this fight; he needed Magnus to end it. How can you ask that of me? Magnus trembled, overwhelmed by grief and anger. But looking up at the creature above him, he knew there was no other choice.

Slowly, Magnus reached down to the sword at his hip — the very blade Darren had given him. With trembling fingers, he drew the steel from its sheath. He held it loosely, letting the point rest near the ground while keeping his eyes locked on his former friend. Tears blurred his vision. Is this really the only way? Damn you, Darren…

Magnus tightened his grip, raising the hilt with both hands. He forced his face into a mask of cold focus. He had only one shot at this — one chance to save Xyra, himself, and what was left of Darren's soul. The half-breed lunged, shooting toward him like an arrow. Magnus stood his ground, waiting.

"Magnus," Xyra whispered, her voice shaking behind him. "You're not… you can't. He's still Darren!"

"It's the only way," Magnus said. His voice was flat, robbed of all warmth. He had slain countless monsters and demons without a second thought. He had even taken human lives to survive. But this was different. Darren wasn't just anyone — he was the best man Magnus had ever known, his most trusted ally.

As the half-breed closed the distance, claws raised for the kill, Magnus locked his joints and held his position. He refused to let his hands shake. 

I'm sorry, Magnus thought, as Darren came within arm's reach. He thrust the blade forward.

Time seemed to stop. Magnus felt the steel bite into flesh and bone. Hot, crimson blood ran down the metal, pouring over his hands and wrists. The creature's claws, inches from Magnus's head, dropped uselessly. Magnus froze. He couldn't speak, breathe, or even blink. The shock hit him like a physical weight, paralyzing his chest. Tears spilled over his eyelashes, dropping silently into the dirt.

Darren's body collapsed against him.

As the life drained out of the monster, the dark, corrupted energy vanished. The black blood turned back to a rich red, and the sickly grey skin faded to its normal, human tone. His vicious claws shrank back into ordinary fingernails. A soft, weak chuckle rasped from Darren's throat.

"I never thought…" Darren murmured, a familiar, faint smirk touching his bloody lips, "I'd die by your hand… let alone on my own sword."

He laughed again, though it turned into a painful cough. His skin grew cold as the demonic fire in his eyes died out, leaving behind the dark brown eyes Magnus remembered. The superhuman strength was gone.

"Well played, Magnus…"

Darren's body went limp, slipping off the blade and falling heavily onto the stone. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking in the dirt. For the first time in days, his face looked peaceful.

Magnus stood over the body, his hands dripping with his friend's blood. The man who had protected his back, who had kept his darkest secrets, was dead at his feet. Behind him, Xyra sank to the ground, sobbing quietly.

Magnus's knees gave out. He dropped the sword; it clattered loudly against the rock. He fell forward onto his hands, a strangled sob tearing through his throat. He was supposed to be the merciless warrior — the Devil's Upholder. But right now, he feels hollowed out.

"Damn you!" Magnus slammed his fists into the ground, splitting his knuckles. "How could you do this to me?! Are you happy now?!"

A few cold raindrops struck the back of his neck. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the low rumble of thunder, and a steady rain began to fall. The water washed the blood from his hands, blending with the tears streaming down his face. The rain poured harder, soaking the battlefield and rinsing the crimson stain from the dirt. It hid his weeping, but it couldn't clean the stain from his conscience. He stayed on his knees in the mud, crying until he had no tears left, with only the sound of the storm to answer him.