CHAPTER 110: CHAPTER 110: KALAMUS HOUSE (8)

The battle turned into an infernal dance. Spheres of dark energy collided with spears of light. Rocks and mountains shattered at the touch of magic, and the air filled with fire, electricity, and darkness. Every punch I threw, every invocation, made the city tremble, but the dragon responded with equal force.

The demon inside me roared with satisfaction. This enemy was no ordinary mortal; it was an equal, a challenge I could not ignore. Its golden scales were barely penetrable by common magic, but the combined force of the demon and my own essence cut through its defenses like a knife through air.

The Dragon Emperor turned and attacked me directly, launching a spear of light that pierced the ground and sent waves of energy destroying everything around it. However, with a burst of demonic power, I absorbed part of its attack and redirected it back at him. The impact created a crater the size of a valley and lifted clouds of dust that darkened the sky.

"Ha!" I shouted. "Now you’ll see the wrath of the arcanists and demons!"

The golden dragon roared, and I responded with a power I had never felt before. There was no strategy, no truce: only destruction, fury, and the will to prove who truly dominated the skies.

But even with all my power, I felt every second mattered. This was no ordinary enemy; the Dragon Emperor was a living judgment. If I fell, everything remaining of the Arcane Empire would be erased in seconds. And I, with the demon and my level 98, was the last barrier between total annihilation and survival.

The final clash was approaching. Every lightning strike, every dark bolt, every spear of light, and every burst of dark energy converged into a single point.

The Dragon Emperor had shown his strength beyond what I had ever imagined. Every blow he landed shook us, and every burst of golden light shattered me, even with the demonic power coursing through my veins. The fury and destruction were unmatched. When his claws reached me, the pain tore through my entire body, fracturing bones, shredding flesh. I knew I couldn’t continue in this state.

I focused all my energy into a single attack. A small black-and-red sphere shot forward, sweeping away the dragon and its city completely. Nothing remained but a crater, yet I could still feel the dragon’s gaze fixed on me, ready to kill.

"Elkid!" I shouted, unable to stand.

My loyal vassal didn’t hesitate. He lifted me onto his back, his strength honed by years of training and unwavering loyalty. We ran, every step kicking up clouds of dust and debris, while the dragon roared furiously, unable to follow due to the wounds inflicted by the demon within me.

We crossed the portal back to our world, gasping, covered in blood, dust, and ashes. I collapsed onto the ground, feeling every limb ache, my breathing a monumental effort. But it wasn’t just physical exhaustion that tormented me. Something had changed inside me.

I ignored it for a few days, though I sensed something was wrong. I just wanted to recover to go back through that portal and finish what I had started.

Then one day I looked at my hands and shivered. Something else was controlling my body. Every thought, every impulse, seemed manipulated, as if it wasn’t completely mine. The frustration and rage I felt transformed into acts I would never have conceived: I took the castle’s servants, and without understanding why, I gave in. My friend Elkid, without questioning anything, brought me plebeian women, even nobles, thinking it was a game, entertainment for his master. And I... just did it.

There was no awareness of desire or pleasure, only the compulsion to act, to corrupt, to break the rules I had once defended. I acted without thinking, without feeling, simply obeying an impulse I did not recognize as my own.

Gradually, the acts worsened. Not just violation and humiliation, but planned murders and thefts executed with precision and audacity. I looted treasures from noble houses, stripped surviving arcanists of their relics, destroyed villages along my path, with no apparent reason other than a dark impulse seeming to spring from deep within me.

I laughed at myself as I did it. I saw myself, the most powerful arcanist who had swept away the dragons, committing unworthy, despicable acts. I felt the need to steal, to destroy, to corrupt, and I could not stop. Every action was guided by something inside me, something the demon had brought that now claimed every part of my will.

Elkid watched, confused but loyal, unaware that the master he had protected for years was no longer entirely mine. And I, though conscious of each act, could only feel trapped, watching as someone else used my body, as my hands executed atrocities my mind would never have conceived on its own.

Theft, destruction, violation, murder... the list grew, and every day I felt more terrified and at the same time more intoxicated by the power forcing me to act. It was an endless cycle: the more powerful I felt, the more control I lost over what I did. And yet, inside me, a part of me smiled, aware of the irony: Kalamus, the most powerful arcanist, destroyed by himself, slave to his own power.

The demon had gained influence I could not even counter. Every action pulled me further from the person I had been, from my empire, from my legacy. And yet, the power flowing through my veins kept me alive, strong, invincible in appearance. But deep inside, I knew the truth: I was no longer master of my body or soul. I could only watch, laugh, and obey the dark impulses that someone... or something... had planted inside me.

And as night fell over the surviving empire, I realized that the true calamity was not the dragons—but me.

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