ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 522: What Really Happened

After the brutal clash with the Blood Demons, Liam found himself within the quiet expanse of the mind realm—Aesmirius’ domain—where the aftermath of battle faded into tranquility. The golden fields and stretches of emerald greenery that once served as the scene of destruction had been restored once more, just as they always were after every illusionary confrontation. The skies above shimmered with a cosmic hue, endless and radiant, painting a serene backdrop that contrasted sharply with the exhaustion weighing down his body.

Liam lay flat on the soft earth, his face pressed against the cool soil while his bruised and torn back faced the celestial glow overhead. His breathing was steady yet faint, each exhale carrying the remnants of fatigue. He appeared almost asleep, though his mind remained dimly aware of where he was. The final moments of that last battle had drained him far more than he anticipated—far more than his meticulous calculations had accounted for.

Though every sequence of action had been crafted and predicted in his plan, the merged Blood Demon had accelerated the pace of the fight beyond what he desired. It had responded with greater aggression, and its intelligence—heightened through fusion—made it adapt faster than Liam expected. Still, he had banked on one thing: its arrogance and bloodlust. The plan was simple—allow the demon to focus on Nyxie. He knew that her resilience and regeneration would make her a prime target, especially since each of her healing phases subtly siphoned from Liam’s myst reserves.

That weakness, exposed a year ago during his real battle with the demons, had become both a lesson and a weapon. Back then, the Purebloods had exploited it relentlessly. The more Nyxie healed, the faster Liam’s energy depleted, until his myst balance neared collapse. But Liam had learned, adapted, and weaponized their expectation. So when he entered this illusionary fight, he anticipated the same tactic. He expected them to repeat that exploitation, to once again fall for the illusion of vulnerability he presented.

And they did.

Yet, the speed at which the merged Blood Demon inflicted damage upon Nyxie exceeded his expectations. It tore through her defenses with relentless precision and turned its focus to him far earlier than he wanted. Being caught by the throat, dragged violently across the ground, and nearly slammed into the earth wasn’t part of the original plan—it was chaos born from miscalculation. But within that chaos, Liam adapted.

In that fleeting moment of danger, he transformed disadvantage into opportunity. Just as the demon’s claws closed around his neck, Liam recalled Nyxie into his shadow with a silent command. Her essence dissolved into black tendrils that slipped unnoticed beneath the demon’s towering form. While being dragged mercilessly across the broken terrain, Liam issued a second command through the bond that linked their essences—an instruction for Nyxie to submerge with the demon’s own shadow.

That single order became the deciding factor later on, when he bound the creature with the shadow-forged shackles.

Before the demon could slam him into the ground and crush his body entirely, Liam acted again. He had recalled and used one of spells he had learned within his father’s memories.

Shadow Step.

A technique reminiscent of the Void Passage, but with distinct mechanics and risks. Where Void Passage functioned as a true teleportation through the empty corridors of the Void itself, Shadow Step was something different—closer in principle to Mabel’s warping ability, Blink. By channeling dark myst through his body at precise intervals, Liam could distort his physical form, bending himself through shadow and space within a limited radius of three meters. It was instantaneous, but volatile, demanding absolute control over the flow of Myst. Any misstep, and one could fragment themselves between the folds of space.

But Liam had mastered it—or at least, enough to survive its toll.

When the demon’s claws descended to crush him, he invoked the spell in a blur of motion. His form dissolved into streaks of dark energy, vanishing from the demon’s grasp in less than a breath. The next instant, he reappeared behind it, his crimson eyes glowing faintly through the haze. His hand was already raised, and the searing radiance of an Umbra Star ignited in his palm, compressing into existence with lethal intent.

That maneuver—his last-minute repositioning combined with Nyxie’s ambush through the shadows—was what sealed the demon’s fate. It was a desperate gamble, executed under immense strain, but it succeeded flawlessly.

Yet success had its cost.

Liam’s body bore the punishment of every second spent in that fight. Being dragged across the hardened ground had torn through the flesh of his back, shredding his muscles and leaving parts of bone exposed. His traps, shoulders, and calves were raw with lacerations. The heat from his own mystic energy had seared some of the wounds shut, but others still pulsed faintly beneath his skin. His knuckles bled, his ribs throbbed from internal impact, and every breath drew a dull ache across his chest.

But despite the pain, he felt no irritation or frustration.

This was, after all, the mind realm. Here, pain was temporary—a phantom reflection of exhaustion rather than true injury. The mind realm’s regenerative nature mirrored his inner balance. All he needed was rest. A deep, undisturbed rest to restore his myst reserves and repair his form.

The recovery period varied depending on the severity of his wounds. Severe injuries could take days, sometimes up to five or more within this temporal distortion of Aesmirius’ domain. Minor wounds healed in mere hours, minutes, or even seconds if his concentration aligned with the realm’s rhythm. The process, though slow, carried an almost meditative stillness.

And Liam didn’t mind.

If anything, he welcomed the stillness. The stillness gave him time to think—to breathe without conflict, to let his mind process everything that had unfolded. The last battle had tested him physically and mentally, pushing his control over Myst, strategy, and coordination with Nyxie to their peak. Now, with his body regenerating under the watchful serenity of the cosmic sky, he allowed himself to sink into reflection.

His next trial awaited—the final one within this endless cycle of illusions. The confrontation he had anticipated since the moment he first stepped into Aesmirius’ domain.

The battle not against demons, beasts, or twisted manifestations.

But against himself.

The ultimate illusion—his own reflection, born from his Myst and mind alike. A perfect mirror that knew every thought, every weakness, and every strength. The final test before his return to the real world.

And as he lay there beneath the ethereal expanse, silent and unmoving, the winds of the golden realm whispered softly through the grass, carrying the faint echo of what was to come. The next battle would not be one of brute strength, but of will.

The battle of Liam Hunter against Liam Hunter.