ShadowBound: The Need For Power

The tunnel fell into a dead silence, heavier than stone, more suffocating than the blood-soaked air ahead.

Banen was the first to move, stepping back instinctively, his blade half-drawn. "Blan... you son of a—"

"Ah-ah," Blan interrupted smoothly, raising a blood-slicked finger. "Let’s not ruin the moment with curses. You’ll make it less poetic."

Serah’s eyes flared crimson. The myst around her began to shimmer, threads of fiery energy crackling faintly along her fingertips as she gripped the hilt of her sword. "You betrayed us... for them?"

Blan chuckled, the sound far too casual for the scene he’d just painted. "No, Serah. I didn’t betray you. I simply accepted a better vision. One where pain isn’t a punishment... but an art."

Jack stepped forward, swords halfway unsheathed, fury etched on his face. "You’re sick."

Blan turned to him with a lopsided grin. "And yet it took you this long to notice. Honestly, I expected better."

Aiden’s gaze darted between Elene’s lifeless body and Blan’s relaxed posture. His voice came low, quiet with rage. "How long?"

"Since the beginning," Blan said, wiping his blade clean on the sleeve of his coat like it was routine. "Marrow Jyn reached out before your task force was even assembled. You see, he understood. The world doesn’t need kings and soldiers. It needs artists... and their muse."

"You’re insane," Hana muttered, stepping protectively in front of Pete.

"And you’re boring," Blan replied with a shrug. "But don’t worry. Your deaths will be... transcendent."

Serah unsheathed her sword, the edge glowing with deep fiery myst. "You’re not walking out of here."