Jason lowered his hand.

The last of the minions collapsed, its body dissolving into black ichor that seeped into the grey soil. The rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the stone, but Jason remained dry beneath his wooden umbrella.

The dome around Ylva and Mae did not let up.

Ylva pressed her face against the gap, her claws scraping against the wood. "Jason! The fight is over! Let us out!"

Jason did not turn around. "No."

"What do you mean, no?!" Mae’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration. "We can help you!"

Jason’s smile was cold. "You would hold me back. You saw what I did here. This was effortless. If I need to move fast, to act without hesitation, I cannot be worrying about protecting you."

Ylva’s ears flattened. Her jaw tightened. She wanted to argue, wanted to scream that she was not weak, that she could fight alongside him.

But she could not because he was right.

What they had witnessed—the slaughter, the clones, the effortless destruction of thirty minions—was beyond anything they could match. They would not be assets in the fight ahead. They would be liabilities.

Ylva’s claws retracted. Her shoulders sagged.

"Just... be careful," she said quietly.

Jason glanced over his shoulder. His eyes met hers. Something flickered in them—a trace of warmth, quickly extinguished.

"I will."

He began to walk. The clones around him dissolved, their wooden forms returning to the husks they had been pulled from. The twisted trees settled back into their deathlike stillness. The umbrella above Jason’s head dissipated, leaving him exposed to the rain.

He did not look back.

Mae watched him disappear into the grey distance, his silhouette growing smaller, fainter, until it was swallowed by the mist.

"He has changed," Mae whispered.

Ylva nodded slowly. "He has become stronger."

"Too strong?" Mae questioned because she had seen it before, how strength had somehow corrupted those around her.

Ylva did not answer.

She did not know if that was possible. But as she watched the space where Jason had vanished, she felt a strange sense of relief.

He was powerful now. Powerful enough to protect them. Powerful enough to face whatever came next.

"This must be why the ant king responded to him," Mae thought. "It must have sensed this power all along."

They did not know that Jason’s strength was new. That it had been born from his system’s gradual adaptation to the circumstances around him.

But the good and calming part about all of this was that they were on his side.

-

Maldred rose and knew he had to prepare for his visitor, he couldn’t underestimate him either. It has been hundred of years since he last felt this excited about a potential battle.

The bones beneath him creaked in protest, old and brittle, but he paid them no mind. His power had returned—fully, completely, and with it came a clarity he had not felt in centuries.

The sluggishness that had plagued him during the forced slumber was gone. The instability that had threatened to unravel his very existence had stabilized. He flexed his massive hands, watching the red scars on his chest pulse with renewed vigor, each scar a testament to a battle won, a child consumed, a soul absorbed.

He did not need to absorb Thalion’s soul. Not now if he didn’t need to or couldn’t find him. His strength was sufficient, his hunger sated for the moment. He could afford to wait.

"Patience," he thought, his nefarious eyes narrowing. "Patience has always been my greatest weapon. It is what kept me awake while the others slept. It is what will keep me alive when they wake."

His awareness expanded outward, brushing against the boundaries of his domain. His minions were dead—all of them. The ones he had sent to intercept the intruder had been slaughtered with almost casual ease.

He could feel their absence like missing teeth, gaps in the fabric of his consciousness that left him feeling exposed.

"Whoever or whatever has come to the Marrow was after his son,"

The conclusion was obvious. His son had been hiding from him, burrowing deep into the recesses of Maldred’s consciousness, trying to escape the inevitable. But he had not escaped. He had merely delayed the inevitable.

And now, something powerful was coming. Something that had torn through his minions like they were made of paper. Something that had grown stronger in the span of hours—a rate of evolution that should have been impossible for any living creature.

Maldred did not know about Jason’s evolution that came as the result of Ylva’s near-death experience, the ant king’s sacrifice, the lord of vines’ transfer of power. He only knew that his enemies were gathering, and that one of them might be the key to his salvation.

"If I consume the soul of this new entity," Maldred thought, his lips curling into a cold smile, "I will be beyond powerful. I will be able to stay awake forever. No more forced slumber. No more balancing the cycle. I will become the sole lord of the Marrow. The others will be nothing but echoes."

He chuckled. The sound was low, rumbling, like stones grinding together deep beneath the earth. It echoed through the ruined chamber, bouncing off the broken pillars and crumbling walls.

His minions had fallen easily. That meant this creature was the real deal. Powerful, dangerous and perfect prey.

But first, he needed to find his son because he knew this being causing so much havoc but of course, it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, Maldred was a lord and Jason only had a portion of one, the power gap was still evident.

Maldred closed his eyes and dived deep into his own consciousness. The void stretched before him—an endless expanse of stolen memories, consumed souls, and the echoes of centuries of hunger. He searched methodically, patiently, his awareness brushing against the fragments of his children that still lingered in the darkness.

"Where are you, Thalzor?"

He did not know him as Thalion. That name belonged to the elf whose body his son had stolen, the vessel that had housed Thalzor’s soul for centuries. To Maldred, he was Thalzor, the son who had tried to escape his fate, who had hidden his soul, who had dared to believe he could escape his father’s hunger.

The search took time. Thalzor had buried himself deep, wrapped himself in layers of stolen consciousness, camouflaged his essence among the remnants of his siblings. But Maldred had centuries of experience. He had consumed dozens of his children. He knew the patterns, the hiding places, the tricks they used.

And in the end, he found him.

A flicker. A pulse. A presence that tried to shrink away, to disappear, to become nothing. But it was too late. Maldred had him.

He reached out.

"Hello, son," he said.

His voice was soft. Almost gentle. It was the voice of a father greeting his child after a long absence. There was no hunger in it, no malice—just a quiet, patient amusement.

Thalzor’s consciousness trembled. His soul strained against the invisible force that had found him, but it was useless. He was trapped.

"Father," Thalzor whispered, his voice barely audible in the void. "Please. I—"

"There is no need to beg," Maldred said. "I am not going to consume you. Not yet."

Thalzor’s confusion radiated through the void like a shockwave. "What? You... you’re not going to eat me?"

"You are more useful to me alive. For now." Maldred’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of his consciousness. "There is someone coming. Someone powerful. I believe they are here for you."

Thalzor’s essence recoiled. "Jason... you mean Jason. He came for me. I told him not to follow, but he—"

"Yes. He is here." Maldred’s voice hardened, the gentleness fading. "And I intend to use you to draw him in."

Thalzor tried to retreat, to hide, but his father’s grip held him fast. "He won’t fall for it. He’s smarter than that. He’ll see through whatever trap you set."

"Perhaps. But he came all this way for you. He fought through the Marrow. He killed my minions. He will not stop now." Maldred’s smile was cold, predatory. "And when he arrives, I will consume him. His power. His soul. His everything. He will become part of me, and I will become unstoppable."

Thalzor’s essence flickered with despair. "He’s stronger than you think, Father. He—" He was trying his best to upscale Jason’s ability because the Jason he did know wasn’t as strong as his father made him out to be even though he could feel something was wrong.

"I am the lord of ruins! I have killed millions! There is no one who could measure up to me! I am Maldred, the immortal!" Maldred’s grip tightened around his son’s soul, squeezing until Thalzor gasped in pain. "Now. Be silent. Watch. Learn. And when the time comes..."

He pulled Thalzor’s soul deeper into the void, closer to his own core. The darkness swallowed them both.

"You will witness your father’s ascension."

-

The lord of the vines smiled.

His cracked lips parted, revealing teeth that were yellowed and worn, but the expression was genuine. He was in a weakened state—his power transferred, his body reduced, his connection to the Marrow severed. But he did not care.

Because there was something he had not told Jason before bestowing his power unto him.

He could create apparitions and make people extensions of himself.

That was true. But this did not mean he could not forcefully make others apparitions of himself. The ability was not limited to willing participants, it could be imposed forcefully.

His smaller form trembled as he dragged himself across the stone floor of his chamber. The apple above him pulsed weakly, its glow dimming with each passing moment. He was vulnerable. more vulnerable than he had been in centuries.

But he was not helpless.

Before him lay the creature Jason had fatally injured. The minion, its body was broken, its scales cracked, its black eyes staring at nothing. It had been one of Maldred’s strongest, sent to stop the human. It had failed.

Now, it would serve a different purpose. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The lord of the vines reached out with trembling hands. His fingers closed around the minion’s torso. He pulled it closer, his mouth opening wide—wider than should have been possible for a creature of his size.

He began to eat.

Raw and unprepared, the flesh tore between his teeth. The blood, black and thick, dripped down his chin. The apple above him pulsed faster, feeding on the energy of the consumed creature.

The lord chewed and swallowed, feeling strength return to his limbs. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. But it was not enough.

The minion’s soul was weak, its essence diluted by centuries of servitude. The lord needed more. He needed something purer. Something that still carried the echo of its original power.

He looked up at the apple.

It pulsed. It was hungry and waiting.

The lord’s gaze dropped to his own arm. Grey, cracked, and weakened. But still filled with the remnants of his ancient power.

He reached up with his other hand and grabbed his own wrist. His fingers dug into the flesh. The skin split. Black ichor oozed from the wound. He did not flinch, he did not hesitate.

With a sickening tear, he ripped his arm from its socket.

The pain was immense, his body convulsed. His vision swam. But he did not stop. He held the severed arm up toward the apple.

The fruit’s mouth opened—wider than before, a void of darkness and hunger. The lord fed his own arm into it. The apple consumed the limb greedily, the flesh dissolving, the bone crumbling, the essence absorbed.

The apple pulsed brighter.

The lord’s body shuddered as he felt the power return—not fully, not completely, but enough.

"That boy thinks he has all my power," he thought, his eyes glowing faintly. "But he does not know the full extent of what I can do."

"And when the time comes, I will show him."