The horizon split open.
Not the sky this time. The ground itself cracked, jagged lines tearing through the ruins of what had been moments before a fragile peace. Dust rose like smoke from a fire that hadn't yet begun.
Salemadon's instincts screamed. Pahtem pulsed faintly against his arm, as if warning him of the invisible currents swirling in the air.
He looked up—then froze.
From the cracks in the earth, long black shadows emerged. Not solid. Not fully alive. But moving. Swift. Silent. And coordinated.
Brughan tightened his grip on his weapon. "What are those things?!"
Althara whispered, "They aren't creatures. They're… extensions of the land. Agents. They respond to the fractures."
Salemadon felt it deep in his chest. Pahtem responded instinctively, threading probability around the approaching shadows. The air thickened, vibrating with the pressure of raw potential.
THE FIRST STRIKE
The shadows lunged.
In a heartbeat, one sliced through the space where Brughan had been standing.
Brughan rolled to the side, swearing. "That's cheating!"
Salemadon acted instantly, spinning Pahtem outward. Threads bent the approaching shadow's path, forcing it to collide with another shadow. The two evaporated into nothing.
"Focus," Salemadon barked. "Do not strike blindly. They will adapt."
Althara nodded, weaving her own threads carefully. Her fingers danced, redirecting two more shadows just enough to protect Brughan as he lunged into the fray, swinging his weapon with reckless force.
The shadows twisted, evaporated, and reformed—faster now. Their coordination was precise, like a single mind controlling all their movements.
Salemadon's teeth clenched. They're learning… fast.
THE CINEMATIC BATTLE
He leapt forward. Pahtem glowed, casting white light that fractured the shadows into fragments. Each movement he made rippled through the fractured ground.
One shadow lunged from above. He ducked just in time. It passed through him harmlessly—but the force made the earth crack beneath his feet.
Brughan shouted, "You're taking too much risk!"
Salemadon didn't answer. Every motion, every thread he controlled, had to be precise. One misstep could collapse the fragile space they were fighting in.
Althara called out, "The ground won't hold much longer! Move!"
Salemadon twisted, using Pahtem to weave a path across the cracks. Shadows followed relentlessly, splitting and reforming, striking at angles too fast to predict.
PAHTEM VS THE UNKNOWN
The world felt heavy. Each step made Salemadon's muscles scream. Pahtem's glow intensified, reaching through him, connecting to every shadow around. But the shadows resisted. They were not alive—they were rules, and Salemadon was bending them without permission.
A shadow struck him directly. Not hard. Not physically. But the impact pressed against his mind. Pain. Disorientation. The world tilted.
He staggered. "Pahtem…" he muttered, struggling to maintain control.
Althara grabbed his arm. "You have to anchor them! Not destroy!"
Salemadon closed his eyes. Threads of probability wrapped around the shadows, forcing them to intersect, slowing their movements. The shadows collided, evaporated, and reformed again—but their speed dropped. Just enough.
Brughan roared and swung, knocking a fragment of shadow into another crack. "That's my kind of chaos!"
Salemadon allowed a faint smile, though his body ached from exertion.
THE HORIZON SHIFTS
Suddenly, a larger shadow appeared—taller than the rest, moving faster. Its form shimmered like dark liquid, reflecting the broken sky.
Salemadon's chest tightened. This was different. A leader. A correction force with intelligence.
It moved directly toward him. Pahtem responded instantly, glowing fiercely. Threads spun outward, redirecting probability around Salemadon and his allies.
The shadow struck. The world shook. Salemadon twisted in midair, letting Pahtem absorb the force. His legs buckled. Brughan caught him.
"This one…" Salemadon panted, "It's different. It's… aware."
Althara's eyes widened. "Then it's testing you. Learning your pattern."
Salemadon clenched Pahtem. "Then we have to change the pattern faster than it can adapt."
CINEMATIC MOMENT OF CLIMAX
He spun, threads flowing in arcs of white light, weaving a chaotic dance that confused the shadow. Brughan leapt, striking another shadow into the air, shattering it. Althara manipulated the cracks beneath, twisting the land just enough to trap fragments of shadow temporarily.
Salemadon felt sweat burn his eyes. He could feel every shadow's intent, every movement, every ripple of probability. Pahtem glowed brighter, feeding off his focus.
The leader shadow lunged again. This time, he spun into it, weaving Pahtem threads around its core. The shadow froze mid-air, twisting violently, then exploded into shards of dark energy that scattered across the cracked earth.
For a moment, silence.
Then the remaining shadows paused. The world itself seemed to wait.
Salemadon panted. "This… isn't over," he whispered.
Brughan shook his head. "I think we need a bigger plan than just… running and hoping."
Althara's hands glowed faintly. "They're testing us. Measuring us. Whatever comes next won't just be shadows—it will be the world itself."
Salemadon straightened, gripping Pahtem firmly. The ground beneath them was cracked, glowing faintly from residual probability threads. He took a deep breath.
"Then we give them a reason to remember us," he said.
ENDING BEAT
The shadows receded slightly, but their presence lingered. The air was heavy with unseen watchers. Every pulse of Pahtem, every breath, every movement was being observed.
Salemadon looked at Brughan and Althara. "This is just the beginning. The world will respond harder next time."
Brughan muttered, "I don't like beginnings that feel like death sentences."
Salemadon smiled faintly. "Then we make them regret underestimating us."
Above them, the clouds shifted again, streaked with light. The shadows stirred, waiting, calculating, and preparing for what was to come.
The first true external threat had arrived.
And Salemadon knew: the story had officially begun.
Some battles don't announce themselves. They hit before you even know the world is awake.