ShadowBound: The Need For Power

The instant Serah's flames burst to life, the Redblood charged.

It launched in a blur of crimson-black motion erupting from the mist, its body snapping forward with serpentine speed. Its claws struck the ground, sending up clods of earth and shattered roots as it bounded in low arcs, weaving through trees like a phantom unbound by gravity.

Serah didn't flinch.

The fire around her ignited in a controlled burst, and she moved.

Her boots carved shallow trenches into the mossy floor as she surged forward, sword low and glowing with molten arcs. Just before they collided, she pivoted on one heel, letting the force of the Redblood's momentum carry it past her—but not without cost. She slashed upward in a diagonal sweep, the blade singing through the air.

Steel met flesh.

A streak of scorched black split across the creature's torso, searing open part of its rib-like plating. But instead of recoiling, the Redblood twisted unnaturally in mid-air, as though it had no spine. Its body contorted, right leg sweeping out with bone-snapping speed.

Serah barely caught it with the flat of her sword. The impact cracked the air like thunder. She was flung sideways, boots skidding, shoulder crunching against bark as she hit a tree trunk hard—but she stayed standing.

Marcus was already in motion.

The moment Serah made contact, he'd dashed forward in a wide arc, twin sabres leaving afterimages of pale silver light. Unlike Serah, he didn't move like a knight—no polished form or rigid stance. Instead he moved like a predator. Silent and calculated. One foot always leading to the next.

The Redblood screeched and turned—but too late.

Marcus was behind it.

He slashed.

The first sabre tore into the back of the demon's thigh, cutting deep. The second, reversed in grip, carved a shallow gouge across the creature's lower spine. Black blood hissed from the wounds like acid on stone.

The Redblood whirled with a shriek, claws slicing upward in a vicious arc meant to eviscerate—but Marcus dropped low, sliding under the swipe, then popped up with both blades aimed at the creature's abdomen.

But this time, it adapted.

Its arm bent backward and caught one of the sabres mid-strike. The demon's claws clamped over the blade, holding it still with inhuman strength. The other blade sunk into its side, but not deep enough to hinder.

With a roar, it lifted Marcus by the caught sabre, slamming him to the ground with monstrous force.

The earth cracked beneath the impact.

Serah shouted and threw her hand forward.

A stream of fire erupted from her palm—not loose flame, but compressed into a spear. It howled through the air and struck the Redblood in the chest, detonating with a bloom of light and force.

The demon staggered, black smoke trailing from its torso, its grip loosening just enough for Marcus to twist free. He rolled backward and flipped to his feet.

"That hurt," he muttered, blood dripping from up the side of his face.

The Redblood screeched again and lunged—this time toward Serah.

She braced.

The creature's clawed hand shot out, reaching for her throat. She ducked under the first swing, spun sideways, and with a dancer's grace, brought her blade upward in a rising arc. Fire exploded from the edge, creating a crescent of burning energy that slammed into the demon's chest.

It flew back, smashing through a tree with a wooden crack that echoed through the woods.

Marcus didn't waste the opening.

He snapped his fingers—just once—and the shadows around him flared.

Dozens of tendrils rose from the ground, made of condensed myst and shade, each writhing like a serpent. They lashed forward, converging on the downed Redblood as it tried to rise. The tendrils coiled around its limbs, binding it with force and pressure.

The Redblood screamed.

But the scream wasn't fear.

It was fury.

Its muscles expanded—swelling with raw power. Crimson lines along its flesh pulsed violently. With a sudden jerk, it ripped through the shadows holding it. The myst shattered with a sound like breaking glass, and the creature surged back to its feet.

Eyes locked on Marcus now.

Serah didn't wait for it to pick its target again.

She moved in a flash, kicking off a tree trunk with explosive force, soaring above the demon's head like a streak of fire. She flipped mid-air, sword poised downward, and struck.

But the Redblood leapt.

Not sideways, but upward.

It met her in the air, claws outstretched.

Their clash lit up the sky.

Blades and claws met in a shower of sparks and flame. The force of the impact sent shockwaves down to the forest floor. Serah twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging a swipe that would've gutted her, and landed hard, knees buckling, breath ragged.

The Redblood landed a moment later, cracking the earth beneath its feet.

It turned—just in time to meet Marcus again.

This time, the dark mage didn't go for strikes.

He feinted.

Blade forward—then sidestep. A blur. He spun behind the demon once more, slamming the pommel of one sabre into the back of its skull. As the creature reeled, he drove the other sabre down between its shoulder blades with a grunt of effort.

The blade sank deep.

The Redblood screamed and twisted violently, throwing him off—but Serah was already there.

She ran up the creature's back—literally—and drove her flaming blade into its skull.

It let out a final, gurgling howl. Flames burst from its eyes and mouth.

Then it collapsed.

Smoke curled from its corpse. Its body twitched once, twice... then stillness.

Marcus stood, panting, blood dripping from his arms, clothes torn at the edges. Serah dropped to one knee, her sword still glowing red-hot in her grip.

For a long moment, neither said anything.

Only the wind spoke, rustling through the leaves like a relieved sigh.

Then Serah finally exhaled.

"That... was one Redblood?"

Marcus nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the steaming corpse.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "And Purebloods... are worse."

Serah glanced at Marcus, then shifted her gaze down toward the smoldering corpse of the Blood Demon.

A subtle smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. "I see... well, I'm glad it was just a Redblood we faced."

The shadow-forged mask wrapping Marcus's face began to dissolve, peeling away into faint trails of smoke and curling wisps until his features were exposed once more. He side-eyed Serah, and that's when he noticed it—blood. Dark, thick, and trailing steadily down her abdomen.

His eyes widened, and without a second thought, he dismissed his sabres with a pulse of myst and closed the distance between them in a blink.

"Hey—are you good?" he asked, voice low but urgent as he knelt beside her.

"Yeah…" she muttered, though her voice came strained through clenched teeth. "Just got stabbed with a blood blade when I was finishing that thing off, that's all."

Marcus gently eased her toward a nearby tree trunk, guiding her to rest against it. As he unbuttoned the lower part of her shirt and moved it aside, his gaze locked on the crimson spike—roughly the length of a longsword—embedded clean through her side and jutting out from her lower ribs.

"Well," he muttered, squinting at it with a kind of morbid sarcasm, "aside from the whole 'bleeding out internally' part, I'd say it's not too bad."

Then his gaze shifted upward, locking with hers. She was pale, sweat forming at her brow, but her eyes—those burning crimson eyes—remained clear and alert. But even so… he could see the slow seep of corruption crawling in the veins around the wound. The demon's blood. Poisonous.

He exhaled slowly. "Right. Look… I'll need to pull this out. Then you're gonna have to burn the blood poison out yourself, or you'll be dead in minutes. And personally, I can't have you dying on me. You're too much of a gorgeous princess to be bleeding out under a tree in the middle of nowhere." His tone turned playfully solemn near the end, mock seriousness on full display.

Serah's eyes narrowed, not amused. But she didn't bother snapping back—too much effort, not enough time.

Taking her silence as agreement, Marcus nodded.

"With that eerie quiet, I'm gonna take it you consented. Cool. Alright… on three. One—"

Before the word "two" even had a chance to exist, Marcus gripped the base of the spike and yanked it free with a sharp, wet sound.

Serah gasped, her body lurching forward from the pain. She bit down a scream, eyes blazing with fury as she shot him a look that could've melted stone.

Marcus casually tossed the blood-stained spike aside, like it was just some twig. "Now hurry and burn the poison out before it spreads. Come on, princess."

Serah breathed through the pain, forced herself to focus, and pressed her free hand to the wound. Immediately, a bloom of orange light flared from her palm—fire myst igniting in a focused pulse. The moment it made contact with her skin, she grunted, muscles tensing as the heat surged through her abdomen.

She burned it.

The flames licked through her wound, cauterizing the flesh, but more importantly incinerating the demonic poison threading through her veins. The scent of burning taint filled the air, harsh and acrid.

Within moments, the black veins began to fade. Her breathing steadied. The pain didn't vanish, but her body stopped trembling. She was still hurt—but no longer dying.

Marcus watched closely, crouched beside her like a wolf standing guard. When her aura steadied, he nodded once. "Alright. That should keep you from keeling over from poison. Not bad."

He rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his coat, his gaze flicking toward the treeline. His eyes narrowed.

"I could patch the rest of that up, but unfortunately, I'm sensing about five presences heading this way. And I'm willing to bet they're your people. Probably worried sick after their princess ditched them to chase after a dangerously handsome stranger like myself."

A grin spread across his face as he said it.

"So yeah, I guess this is where I take my leave. You get to bask in the glory of your little Blood Demon kill, and I get to not deal with angry royal escorts." He added with a slight stretch of his arms.

Serah side-eyed the woods, her senses confirming what he'd said. Five myst signatures.

She didn't speak for a moment, then said quietly, "When will I see you again?"

The question caught Marcus off guard. His brows shot up slightly. "Uh… damn. I knew it. You do like me," he said with a teasing smirk.

Serah rolled her eyes hard enough to tilt the earth. "You owe me an explanation. About the Purebloods. I need to know what they are. I'm not walking into another fight blind."

Marcus turned halfway, his silhouette already being swallowed by shadow and mist.

"Alright, princess, whatever you say," he called over his shoulder. "But I can't afford to just run into you again. That kind of thing… it's got to be left to fate."

He paused, casting one last glance back.

"Besides, they say when two destined lovers meet for the first time and have an unforgettable connection, fate practically insists on a second meeting." He flashed that arrogant, crooked grin of his. "And if you ask me? We definitely had a connection."

Serah's cheeks flushed instantly. Her brows furrowed in visible irritation. "Don't call us lovers, you idiot," she barked, still wincing from the pain as she leaned back against the tree.

Marcus raised a hand lazily in farewell, already walking deeper into the forest.

"Bye, princess. See you when I see you."

And just like that, he vanished between the trees—gone before her guards ever arrived.