The Dying Arcane

Ronan stood amidst the ruins of the battlefield, the scent of blood thick in the air. The bodies of fallen warriors lay scattered across the cold, cracked earth, their lifeless eyes staring into the void. Smoke rose in the distance, the remnants of burning wreckage casting eerie shadows under the crimson sky.

His sword pulsed with the energy of the slain, absorbing the essence of their strength. His fingers trembled as raw power coursed through his veins—his unique ability awakening once more. He could feel it—the rush, the intoxication of stolen strength merging with his own. It was no longer just a battle for survival. Each fight brought him closer to something greater—something more dangerous.

A gust of wind carried the stench of blood and ash, rustling the tattered cloak draped over his shoulders. He exhaled slowly, gripping his blade tighter. Another victory, another step forward. But his journey was far from over.

"You're becoming something terrifying, Ronan."

The voice was sultry, teasing—yet laced with an edge of danger. He turned his head slightly, muscles still coiled for a fight.

A woman stood at the edge of the battlefield, her crimson cloak billowing in the wind. Her piercing golden eyes studied him with amusement and curiosity. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, framing a face both alluring and deadly.

Selene.

Warlord of the wastelands. A woman feared and revered in equal measure.

"You've been making a name for yourself," she continued, stepping over the corpses as if they were nothing more than pebbles in her path. "The Reaper of Fallen Strength. The last survivor of the apocalypse. They say you consume the souls of the warriors you slay."

Ronan's grip tightened on his sword, but he remained still. "I take what I need to survive."

Selene smirked, tilting her head. "And yet, survival is not your only goal, is it?"

Ronan said nothing.

"You're hunting something," she continued, voice dropping lower. "Something bigger than mere vengeance. Strength alone won't be enough for what you seek, Ronan. You need allies."

Ronan scoffed, finally turning to face her fully. "And I suppose you're offering your help?"

Selene's eyes gleamed. "Help? No. But an opportunity? Perhaps."

She stepped closer, standing just a breath away from him. "The world is shifting. War is coming. Those who hesitate will be left behind."

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "And what do you get out of this?"

Selene chuckled, trailing a finger along the edge of his sword. "Oh, Ronan… everything comes at a price. But you'll know mine soon enough."

With that, she turned, her cloak whipping around her as she disappeared into the smoke.

Ronan exhaled, eyes narrowing as he watched her leave.

He had no time for distractions.

His war was far from over.