ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 315: A Godly Being

As Liam's body was slammed into the wall by Gordon—no, by the thing he had become—Mystica's mind went numb. The sound of the impact came with a sickening crack that turned her veins to ice.

She immediately began blaming herself. The weight of failure hit her like a dagger to the chest. Of all people, she should've been alert. Seraphina had told her—the Nullify spell would wear off in an hour, maybe even less. She should've been watching the clock.

But she got distracted. Too focused on questioning Gordon. Too obsessed with understanding Sylvathar's plan. She let her guard down.

Worse still, she hadn't placed any magical seals on him. She'd trusted the chains alone to hold a half demon touched by the Gaia Lord.

Two possibilities struck her. Either Gordon had felt the resurgence of his powers and instantly transformed into his Gaia form—or he stayed quiet, waiting, and pretending, just to gather more intel before the strike.

But none of that mattered now.

She had really messed up.

While she drowned in that single second of guilt, a thunderous boom rang out. It was followed by a sudden burst of flames—and then Gordon's body flew across the dungeon like a broken doll, slamming violently into the opposite wall.

'What the hell was that just now?'

Mystica's eyes widened. Earlier, her lightning-and-air spell had barely staggered him. Gordon had shrugged it off like a breeze. That level of magical resistance wasn't normal, especially for a Gaia demon. Against a regular one, her spell would've meant instant death—or at least crippling damage.

This hybrid Gaia... it was something else entirely.

Then realization struck her—Gordon had been flung from the very spot where he'd slammed Liam. That meant Liam was still alive.

As the dust cleared, she saw him.

Liam's silhouette emerged, walking through the haze.

Relief washed over her—until unease quickly replaced it. Liam was fine. But something wasn't.

She still needed to get him out of there. She'd handle Gordon alone. But one question pressed in her mind—how had Liam generated that much power?

"Liam, I'm glad you're okay, but I need you out of—" Mystica started, her eyes flicking toward where Gordon had landed.

But Liam cut her off.

"Quiet, woman. Stand aside and let me handle this pathetic mortal."

It was his voice.

It was his face.

But the words—it wasn't Liam.

Mystica's blood ran cold.

Liam's aura was heavier now, oppressive and suffocating. His usual red eyes had turned a haunting shade of violet, glowing with a swirling storm of myst—uncontrolled and terrifying in scale.

"What the... hell are you?" she whispered, unable to find her voice as she watched him walk past her without so much as a glance.

Whoever that was... she knew it wasn't Liam. At least not entirely.

Liam stopped a mere breath away from Gordon's hulking form, standing like a shadow unmoved by the rubble and flame behind him. The violet in his eyes blazed brighter as he looked up at the twisted Gaia hybrid, his voice low and laced with something ancient.

"If you slam me into a wall one more time," Liam said, every word falling like a blade, "I'll make sure you have your head rolling like a ballsac with no generations."

Gordon let out a coarse, guttural laugh that echoed through the dungeon, sharp and twisted.

"You arrogant little insect," he sneered, rising to his full, monstrous height—nearly double Liam's. "You sound just like that bastard Galen. Arrogance pouring out just because you managed to knock me a few feet. Do you really think that makes you my match?"

His wooden-mask face cracked with a grin that reeked of madness.

"You're nothing but a child playing with a spark. I've been touched by the power of a Demon Lord and you, nothing. You are nothing. "

Then Gordon's gaze sharpened, narrowing with bitter curiosity. "But... I know you. You had something to do with it, didn't you? Me and Ember's plan to snatch the Crescent Princess—Sheila. I heard the blonde one say you can sniff out hybrids like a bloodhound."

He leaned forward slightly, voice turning mocking. "Was it you who eavesdropped on our little conversation? Hiding behind that pillar?"

He waited.

Silence.

No answer came from Liam—only that unblinking, soul-piercing stare.

"Tch. Fine then," Gordon growled, winding back his massive, stone-clawed fist. "Let's see how quiet you are after—"

The scream cut through the air like lightning.

It was his own.

Gordon stumbled back in confusion and agony, looking down in disbelief to see that his forearm was gone—severed clean, green ichor gushing and hissing into vapor as steam curled off the wound.

"What—what the hell—?!" he roared.

Before he could recover, Liam's foot struck his gut like a meteor.

BOOM!

The shockwave shattered stone as Gordon's body was sent careening backward once again, slamming into the wall with even more force than before. Debris rained from the ceiling. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone behind him.

Liam stood still, dust swirling at his feet, gaze now lowered onto the broken form slumped against the stone.

With violet eyes that burned like twin stars, he spoke—not as Liam, but as something deeper and older.

"Mortal," he said coldly, "it's only natural you see me from below."

He took a single step forward, voice sharpening to a lethal whisper.

"Because that is where you belong. Beneath my feet."

From where she stood, Mystica found herself speechless. What—who—she was seeing wasn't Liam.

Liam was cold, yes. Calculated. Lethal when needed. But this… this was something else entirely. The speed, the precision—it wasn't just superhuman, it was unnatural. She had barely managed to track the instant Liam summoned a longsword from his Void Storage, the blade appearing in his left hand the very moment Gordon's monstrous arm began its descent. The strike that followed was almost invisible, a blur of motion faster than thought.

Almost too fast to see—but she saw it.

Her heart tightened.

'That's not Liam…' she thought, eyes locked on his back as he stood unmoved, facing Gordon. 'This… this is something else. From the way he speaks—Liam might have something divine inside him. No, not just divine... godly.'

Then the being that wore Liam's face spoke, his grin spreading as he opened his arms wide, tilting his head back as if welcoming the sky.

"You know," he began, voice layered with ancient amusement, "it's been millennia since I've felt the outside world like this. But, annoyingly enough…"

He lowered his arms, and his violet gaze returned to Gordon.

"You've made my first day back a disaster. And for that… you will die."

With that, he raised his right foot and placed it squarely on Gordon's chest.

A pulse of red-orange light burst from beneath his heel, heat rippling out with deadly intensity. Gordon cried out, wincing as the searing force caused Liam's foot to begin sinking into his flesh—burning, pressing toward his very core.

'What… what is this kid?' Gordon's thoughts scrambled. 'This aura... it's not the same as before. This feels just like Lord Sylvathar—no… it feels even worse.'

A chill of fear clawed at the edges of his mind. 'I have to get out of here.'

In desperation, Gordon summoned a lightning spell, crackling with corrupted demonic myst and light magic. It shot forward in a blinding arc, slamming straight into Liam.

Or rather—where Liam had just been.

In a blink, he was gone, reappearing several paces away without a sound, unharmed.

'How did he dodge that at point-blank range?' Mystica's breath caught. She had never seen movement like this. Except from Galen, of course.

Liam looked down at himself, brushing dust from his chest with a casual flick.

"That might've damaged the vessel," he mused aloud, before his eyes locked back onto Gordon—glowing, merciless. "I hate mortals who forget their place."

He vanished again.

Gordon, already back on his feet, didn't wait. Panic roared through him. There was no exit, no door—only cold, encircling stone.

And nowhere to run.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

And in the third—Liam reappeared. Not ahead of Gordon. Not behind him.

Above.

A shadow fell as Liam descended like a blade from the heavens, his longsword trailing arcs of violet fire that seared the air itself. Gordon barely had time to raise his stone-covered arms before Liam crashed down on him, blade-first, the impact sending shockwaves through the dungeon.

Stone cracked. Roots trembled. The very foundation of the prison groaned beneath the force.

Gordon let out a ragged, inhuman roar as he was driven to his knees, his monstrous arms barely holding the blade at bay. Sparks flew as magic and myst collided, their energies repelling and writhing against each other like fighting serpents.

"You're strong," Liam admitted, his voice calm—eerily so. "But strength without control... without understanding... is wasted."

He twisted the blade.

Gordon screamed.

With a violent push, Liam drove the sword to the side, carving through one of Gordon's thorned roots. Green blood hissed and steamed as it splattered across the stone.

"WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!" Gordon howled in fury, staggered. "WHAT EVEN ARE YOU?!"

Liam didn't answer. He stepped back, twirling the longsword once before stabbing it into the ground.

"The better question," he said softly, "is what you are... to stand against me."