ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 517: Past Opponents

Within the span of time Liam had spent trapped within Aesmirius’s vast domain, while his true body lay motionless and unconscious in the physical realm, he had not been idle. His training within that realm had not only been meant to strengthen his body and mind enough to withstand the immense recoil that came from being dragged through Aesmirius’s ancient memories. No—the true reason for his training went far beyond that.

Liam had been preparing for the one trial that would grant him freedom. To leave this mind-forged realm and return to reality, he had to earn what Aesmirius called the Key of Return. But that key wasn’t a simple relic or spell—it had to be earned. The only way to claim it was to defeat himself.

Aesmirius could have easily sent Liam back once all the memories had been shown, yet he refused. The god claimed Liam still didn’t understand something vital—that despite his years of combat and growth, despite his raw power and will, he was still shackled by restraint. According to Aesmirius, Liam was constantly holding back, limiting his own potential even without realizing it.

So, to make him see the truth, Aesmirius gave him a task most cruel and enlightening: Fight yourself. It was not a metaphor. It was literal. Aesmirius conjured an illusion of Liam—identical in every way. Same mystic level, same fighting instincts, same techniques and experience. But unlike Liam, this mirror version had no restraint, no hesitation, and no moral check. It fought at the full peak of what Liam could be at his current level of mystic resonance.

When Liam first fought this reflection, he was crushed. Though both were High-Tier Five-Star, the difference between them was staggering. The illusion fought like a perfect predator—relentless, efficient, merciless. Liam could barely defend, let alone strike back. It was in that moment he finally understood how much of his true strength remained dormant.

But instead of breaking, the defeat ignited him. His drive to improve, to surpass even his own limits, grew fiercer. And Aesmirius, amused yet impressed, granted him more means to hone himself. Through the god’s will, Liam was given access to summon echoes of creatures Aesmirius had fought across countless realms—ancient beasts, forgotten demons, spectral gods of war. He could also call forth the shadows of his own past enemies to test himself.

And he did. Again and again.

He fought abominations born from worlds long devoured, creatures whose mere aura could shatter mountains. Some were weaker, some on par with him, and others so monstrously powerful they forced Liam to crawl back from near-death over and over. But he never hesitated. Every fight, every wound, every drop of myst spent—it all carved him sharper.

Among those battles were also his personal vendettas, grudges that burned deep in his chest. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

One was against the Horror-class demon from the outskirts of Nystra—the one that had poisoned him even as it died. Liam remembered vividly the agony of that venom coursing through his veins, the searing torment when he’d been forced to use Crimson Breathing to burn the toxin out of his blood. That pain had marked him. So when he found its echo here, he fought it again—out of pure spite—and erased it without mercy.

Another was the Advanced Horror from Vlardia—the Malgath. That demon had ambushed him and his team right after they had barely survived a Titanborne. The chaos of that fight had cost Liam one of the daggers his mentor, Draven, had gifted him. He hated the creature for that alone. And when Aesmirius allowed him to face its illusion, Liam unleashed every ounce of his rage upon it until nothing remained but ash.

Most of those rematches were petty, yes—but they mattered to him. They settled debts.

Yet, only two battles among all these illusions truly tested his growth.

The first was Nyxie—his shadow beast, his bond, his companion. But this wasn’t the Nyxie that had grown alongside him. This was the Nyxarion from before—the untamed, ancient guardian of death. Facing her was chaos incarnate. Each battle pushed him to his limits, and even when he won, it was barely. That primal Nyxie was something else entirely—a storm of darkness and myst far beyond control.

And the second—the one he desired most—was the rematch against the twin Blood Demons of Grandeur City.

Liam’s hatred for Blood Demons ran deep, rooted in the slaughter of his father and grandfather. But those twins held a special place in that hatred—they were the first to make him feel powerless. Time and again, he fought their illusions, and time and again, he was defeated. Every time he thought he’d improved, they tore him apart effortlessly.

Through those endless defeats, Liam came to a harsh realization. During the real battle in Grandeur City, a year ago, he hadn’t been holding his own like he thought. He had been toyed with. Those demons hadn’t even taken him seriously.

The illusions made it clear—he was nothing to them back then.

But after reliving his parents’ memories, Liam had learned much about the Blood Demons—their combat patterns, their hierarchy between Redbloods and Purebloods, their instinctual weaknesses, and the subtle ways to manipulate their rage-driven nature against them.

Now, armed with that knowledge and hardened by every battle he’d endured, Liam was ready. Ready to face them again—the twin monsters who had once brought him to the brink of death.

***

Flames burst outward with a deafening roar as Liam vanished from sight, leaving behind nothing but a crimson flare that scorched the golden grass beneath him. The air around the twin Blood Demons distorted—the sheer speed of his movement ripped the sound from the world for an instant. Then, in a flash of ember and steel, Liam reappeared before them, daggers drawn, twin streaks of fire trailing behind each motion like blazing comets.

He struck first—one dagger slicing upward in a swift arc, the other twisting horizontally to intercept any counter. The right demon leaned back, his movement impossibly smooth, the blade missing his throat by a mere inch. The left demon pivoted sideways, his claws slicing through the air, sparks flying as they clashed against Liam’s dagger. The shockwave sent molten dust scattering through the air, shimmering like stardust in the dim glow of the realm.

Liam’s feet slid back half a pace—his boots carving a trench through the golden terrain. He didn’t hesitate. He lunged again, flames bursting from his soles to propel him forward. The daggers became extensions of his will—each strike a blur, each parry sharp enough to cleave through the faint ripples of space. His movements were precise, efficient, no wasted motion. Yet the demons—those crimson-skinned fiends—dodged everything with unnatural grace.

They twisted around his strikes like liquid shadows, their laughter echoing through the air, low and mocking. "Still too slow," one hissed, his voice guttural and deep.

"As expected of a worthless mortal," the other added, swaying effortlessly as Liam’s dagger cleaved the air where his head had just been.

But Liam’s face remained unreadable. Not a flicker of irritation, not even a twitch of frustration. Only that unshaken calm—the kind of cold resolve that burned hotter than flame.

He pivoted low, twisting his torso as he thrust both daggers outward. Fire erupted in a spiraling torrent, engulfing both demons in a sphere of molten light. The explosion that followed tore through the field, uprooting chunks of the golden earth and scattering them into the air like molten shards. But when the smoke cleared, both demons stood unharmed, their bodies wreathed in a shimmering crimson aura.

They grinned—wide, predatory, taunting. Blood dripped from their hands, pooling beneath them, and from that pool, blades of liquid crimson began to rise and solidify into wicked shapes.

Liam exhaled slowly, sliding one foot back into stance. His eyes glimmered faintly red as small streams of flame danced around his wrists, whispering against his skin like serpents.

"Pathetic," one demon said, licking his jagged teeth.

"C’mon, this can’t all of it. Try again. Try again," the other mocked, stepping forward.

Then they moved.

The first demon appeared behind Liam in an instant, claws slashing for his back, while the second came from above, descending like a crimson meteor. Liam spun, his blades meeting both assaults mid-motion. The impact cracked the ground beneath him, creating a web of molten fissures that radiated outward in fiery patterns.

He ducked low under a swing, kicking off the ground as fire burst from his heel, launching him upward. He twisted mid-air, daggers slashing in an X-arc, each line leaving a streak of burning red through the air. The first demon crossed his forearms to block—but too slow. The flames bit deep, searing across his flesh, and for the first time, the fiend let out a sharp, animalistic growl.

"Now we’re getting somewhere," Liam murmured under his breath.

The second demon lunged from behind, but Liam sensed it—his eyes flaring as he slammed both daggers into the ground. A surge of myst roared from beneath his feet, forming a massive ring of molten light. In an instant, the ground around him combusted—a miniature sun ignited right there in the heart of the Aether.

The explosion was cataclysmic. A wave of golden-red fire expanded outward, swallowing the blood demons whole. The light was blinding, a surge of divine fury that tore through the air and left nothing but a roaring pillar of incandescent heat. The golden plains were reduced to molten glass in a radius of several hundred feet.

When the fire faded, the two demons stumbled back, their bodies scorched and cracked, skin hissing with steam as molten blood oozed from their wounds. Their regenerative power began to work instantly—flesh knitting itself together as they steadied their breathing. Their grins, however, had not faded.

They looked at Liam, who stood unmoving amidst the smoking ruin. His clothes were singed at the edges, his crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath his dark hair. His aura was calm, contained—but there was something different in it now. Something heavier. His myst pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying star.

Then both demons began to laugh—a deep, resonant laughter that echoed across the endless field.

"Not bad for a worthless flame," one said, his voice bubbling with amusement.

"You burn brighter than before. But brightness doesn’t scare us," the other added, raising his hand.

Crimson mist began to swirl around them as the blood at their feet surged upward, solidifying into countless weapons—spears, swords, axes, whips—all glimmering with that dark, liquid sheen. The sky itself seemed to bleed as their weapons hovered around them like a storm of crimson death.

Liam stood his ground, sliding his right foot half an inch backward, lowering his stance. His daggers twitched in his hands as the air around him distorted under the heat radiating off his body.

He looked up at them, expression still as ice, voice low and cold. "Come then," he said, tone razor-sharp. "Let’s see if you can still laugh when I burn the blood out of your veins."