The Tyrant’s Resurgence

The Inquisitor's corpse lay still, blood pooling beneath the armored body. The lingering remnants of their Aetherbrand Essence pulsed within Zareth's veins, raw and unstable, yet brimming with potential. He stood over the fallen warrior, letting the power settle, feeling the way it tried to resist him—not just stolen, but foreign.

He clenched his fist. This one had been strong. Stronger than any foe he had faced since his return. And yet, Zareth had won. Barely.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Veyron stepped through the wreckage, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked between Zareth and the corpse.

"You actually killed an Inquisitor," Veyron muttered. Not disbelief. Not admiration. Just cold realization.

Zareth glanced at him. "They're not invincible."

Veyron exhaled. "No. But they're not meant to be fought alone. And that one?" He gestured toward the corpse. "He was the weakest among them."

Zareth expected as much. The true elite weren't sent to probe an enemy—they came to execute.

The rebels who had witnessed the battle were silent. Some were awed. Others terrified. Even in death, the Inquisitor's presence loomed over them, a grim reminder that the Dominion's wrath was only beginning.

One of the rebels muttered, "This isn't over."

Zareth agreed. The Dominion wouldn't let this slide. They would come harder. Smarter. Stronger.

He welcomed it.

The Dominion's retaliation came swift and merciless.

The city was no longer just under watch—it was locked down. Patrols doubled, checkpoints reinforced. No one entered. No one left.

But the real threat wasn't the soldiers. It was the Inquisitors.

Two more had arrived. Unlike the first, they didn't act recklessly. They didn't seek battle—they set the battlefield.

From the shadows, Kaldros watched. He did not interfere. Not yet. He wanted to see how Zareth fought when truly cornered.

The two Inquisitors spread through the city with unsettling precision. They weren't hunting blindly. They knew where Zareth had struck. They were setting up their attack.

And when they moved, it would be decisive.

Zareth took the brief window of time to experiment with the stolen Aetherbrand Essence.

Unlike before, this was different. The Inquisitor's power was refined, cultivated over years of mastery. He had absorbed it, but could he wield it?

Zareth focused, drawing out the foreign Essence. It resisted, flickering like an ember on the verge of dying out.

His fingers curled. No. It wasn't rejecting him. It was incomplete.

I don't just steal power. Zareth's gaze darkened. I reshape it.

The more he analyzed, the more he understood—he wasn't just stealing Essence. He was evolving it. Adapting it. Making it his.

But there was no time for further testing.

Because the Inquisitors were already closing in.

Zareth moved through the city, but he felt it—the shift. The way the streets were unnaturally empty. The subtle weight of unseen eyes.

They were herding him.

He stopped in an abandoned courtyard, surrounded by crumbling stone structures. A battlefield had been chosen.

And then—the attack began.

Two figures emerged from the darkness, clad in the same ominous armor as the first Inquisitor. But their movements were different—disciplined, synchronized.

Zareth's instincts flared. This was different.

The first Inquisitor raised his hand—and the world slowed.

Zareth's body reacted, but his movements felt sluggish, forced.

Damn.

The first Inquisitor wielded Absolute Suppression—an Aspect that negated momentum. Every step Zareth took required twice the effort, every strike lost its force.

The second Inquisitor moved without hesitation. His blade shimmered, cutting through the air—through Aetherbrand itself.

Zareth barely dodged, but even as he moved, he felt it—his own power faltering.

Severance.

This one could cut through Aetherbrand flows, disrupting abilities at their core.

The two Inquisitors worked in tandem. One slowed Zareth, the other made sure he couldn't fight back.

Zareth gritted his teeth. This wasn't a fight. This was execution.

Zareth had seconds to analyze.

The first kept his movements slow. The second severed his Aetherbrand before it could activate. Together, they were unstoppable.

But apart?

A plan formed in an instant. Risky. But necessary.

Zareth feigned another attack—deliberate, sloppy.

The first Inquisitor reacted, reaching out with his Aspect to suppress the motion—and that was the mistake.

Zareth let the force take hold—but instead of resisting, he used it.

He twisted his body in the forced momentum, redirecting his motion in a way they didn't expect. A feint into a real attack.

His fist slammed into the first Inquisitor's ribs—and in that instant, he activated his Aetherbrand.

He stole.

Aetherbrand Essence surged into him, and for a moment, he felt it—the touch of Absolute Suppression.

He turned, eyes locking onto the second Inquisitor.

Now, it was his turn to dictate the battlefield.

Zareth stepped forward—and activated Suppression.

The second Inquisitor froze mid-strike, his own momentum stolen.

Zareth's blade plunged forward—ripping through the man's throat.

Blood sprayed as the Inquisitor collapsed. One down.

The first recovered, snarling, but Zareth didn't let him breathe.

With Severance gone, his own Aetherbrand flowed freely.

His footwork shifted—fluid, aggressive, unrelenting.

The first Inquisitor barely parried before Zareth's hand lashed out—gripping his throat.

Zareth stole again.

The man let out a strangled gasp—as his own power drained from him.

Then, Zareth crushed his windpipe.

The body fell limp.

The battle was over.

But Zareth didn't celebrate. His hands clenched.

This had been harder. Much harder. They were learning.

And that meant the next would be worse.

High above, Kaldros watched.

He had not interfered. He had no reason to.

Now, he understood.

Zareth wasn't just powerful. He was adaptable.

That made him dangerous.

But it also made things more interesting.

Kaldros turned, his voice calm. "Prepare the next phase."

The hunt was far from over.

For Zareth, it had only just begun.