Shadow Control was the skill that allowed Damon to command intangible shadows, moving them freely with massive consumption of shadow energy. But more than that… it could command masterless shadows—phantoms that had no bodies, no anchor to the world. He wanted to try something. These creatures… they made his shadow react. He wanted to see if he could control one of them—use Shadow Control to bend it to his will. His hand pointed toward one of the humanoid void-born, its eyeless face locked on the orb of light Damon was holding. He willed it to stop—pushed with everything he had. It didn't even flinch. The curse burned in his arm, and he fired his omnidirectional gear, the line latching onto a shattered rooftop. He pulled himself out of the creature's reach just as it lunged. "Well… it was worth a try," he muttered, a self mocking grin cutting across his face. The attempt had failed. But that had only been his secondary objective. His real goal had been to draw attention away from Evangeline—give them the time they needed to make it to the cathedral. He had the most mobility. It made sense. It was the only thing he could do. Landing on the roof with a thud, Damon took a slow, deep breath. The world trembled around him—the ground split, monsters roared below, but his heart was calm. Unshaking. Remorseless made him. Calm enough to realize— What he was doing… this was completely against his character. He jumped down, turning into a shadow before he hit the ground, diving into a pool of darkness just as a massive pillar of destruction came roaring from the battle raging in the sky. He quickly shifted back into his human form, the orb's light disrupting his shadow. 'What is wrong with me… since when did I start caring about someone else but myself…' The creature from the rift chased the small light as Damon swung through broken buildings, using his omnidirectional gear and his Parkour skill. This wasn't who he was. Damon Grey was spiteful, jaded, and bitter—he only cared about his sister. Then why... why was he here, risking his life for anyone else? He bit his lips, hard. Was it because he was the party leader? He shook his head. Was it because he wanted to be kind…? A massive black wave slammed into the rooftop as he rolled, barely avoiding it. His back hit a chimney—it shattered, sending him crashing through the window of a nearby building. Damon raised his head, feeling his vision swim. His Danger Sense screamed. He felt the direction it was coming from and dove out of the window, using Shadow Movement to evade a horde of giant rats tearing into one of the void creatures. Then why was he doing this? He bit his lip again until he tasted blood. He didn't understand anymore. All he knew was—he didn't want his friends to die. Was this the kindness Carmen Vale had spoken of? The man who had told him kindness was reciprocal…? But was he even going to receive anything of equivalent value for his actions? He pulled himself into the air, mist swirling around his body as the armor of Pale Crown activated, just as a giant sword severed the hand of one of the void creatures chasing him. The Astral Winds from the monsters' battle pulled at him, threatening to scatter him like ash. "If I die… will anyone actually take care of my sister…?" He opened his eyes wide. All around him—he could feel it. The shadows he had called with Shadow Control… He wasn't just running around without a plan. He was gathering. A massive tide of intangible shadows surged behind him, moving like a living storm as he avoided the creatures from the rift, while the native monsters of Lysithara fought them. He held that small light—the orb—like a beacon in a world of horror. Something brushed against him—he tried to move, but his right arm stiffened. The curse from the Mist Knight sword —it hadn't fully healed. He took a deep breath, turning into mist at the last moment—but not fast enough. His body was lacerated all over, even his armor shredded. He groaned, sent crashing into the ground in a rain of blood. Even so—he gritted his teeth. Yes… there was someone who would… Lilith... "But can I even trust anyone... to save Luna…?" He bit his lips harder. He wanted to be needed. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮 He needed to be needed by Luna. That was why he let himself live so long—no matter how bad it got for both of them. He had long since given up the delusion of being a hero. So he wanted to be her hero. Even if he was a monster in other people's eyes. He had lived for her. "AHHHHH!!" He roared, his heart swelling with emotions too fierce to contain. The tide of shadows behind him rose up like a monstrous wave, drowning the streets in darkness. Not now... he wasn't dying now... What was he even thinking? He pulled out the orb, and the surrounding shadows formed around it, smothering its light. Quickly, he tied the orb to an arrow, its glow sealed under layers of shadow. He pulled out his collapsible bow, nocked the arrow, feeling his shadow energy running dry. He fired into the sky where the real horrors battled—and then dispelled the shadows. The light erupted—bright and unmistakable. The monsters sensed the magic—and turned their attention toward it. Damon fired his omnidirectional gear at a building and swung toward the cathedral. The battle raged behind him. He was so close—he could see the anxious faces of his party standing by the ruined door, holding it open for him. He smiled faintly. But just as he neared the front steps, something caught the wires of his gear—pulling him violently to the ground. He landed hard, groaning, his head slick with blood. He staggered to his feet, legs broken—but he dived into a shadow to dodge a black claw swinging for his throat. He moved through the darkness, emerging at the shadow's end and sprinting….limping toward the cathedral doors. A small creature—like a blackness-born wolf—lunged at him. Sylvia raised her bow, magic gathering— Damon shook his head desperately. If she used magic now, it would draw all of them straight to her. He swung his sword at the wolf, leaping over a shattered angel statue as it smashed into it, snarling and reaching with blood-stained fangs. Just as he reached the threshold, it sank its teeth into his arm—trying to drag him away from the cathedral's warded protection. Damon gritted his teeth—let go of his sword—and with his good arm, plunged a dagger straight into the creature's eye. It shrieked—but it didn't relent. Xander and the others charged forward, attacking from every direction. Matia fired a blast of ice before even closing the distance—but the nightmare spawn was relentless. It ripped Damon's right arm clean off. Blood fountained from the wound—Damon's eyes twisted with rage. He didn't fall. He got up. He jumped—straight into the creature's face—eyes burning with resentment—and drove his sword into its skull with everything he had left. A soft chime echoed in his mind: [You have slain Lesser Nightmare Spawn.] Leona rushed forward, grabbing Damon just as more creatures came charging. She hoisted him over her shoulders, sprinting back toward the cathedral doors. Xander smashed the ground with his spear, blasting a wall of shattered stone and dust behind them as cover. They fell back into the cathedral—its ancient runes glowing to life—as they slammed the doors shut with a deafening bang, sealing themselves inside. Outside, the nightmare raged. Inside, Damon knelt, holding his sword with his one remaining hand. Blood pooled beneath him, from where his right arm had once been.