CHAPTER 1517: STORY 1517: THE WOMB OF SHADOWS

The Unborn reeled, its vast form shuddering like a storm-tossed ocean. Shadows peeled from its body, slithering into the air as if wounded. The ground quaked beneath its step, fissures splitting wider, spewing crimson light that painted the forest in hues of blood.

Kael staggered forward, his sword’s glow flaring in rhythm with his heartbeat. Each step was agony, yet his defiance pressed him on. “You bleed,” he growled. “You can be hurt.”

The titan’s faceless head tilted toward him, its molten veins pulsing faster. “Hurt? You mistake the pangs of labor for pain. You do not wound me—you quicken me.”

Elara’s fire flared in alarm. “Kael, stop! Every strike feeds it—don’t you see? It’s not weakening, it’s birthing something!”

Even as she spoke, the titan’s chest split like a cracked egg. From the fissure spilled a torrent of shadow-wrapped forms, screeching like newborns torn too early from the womb. They landed in the dirt with wet, sickening thuds, then rose—pale creatures with limbs too long, jaws unhinged, eyes burning red.

The Wombspawn.

Kael clenched his teeth, lifting his sword high. “Then we kill its children before they can walk.”

The first spawn lunged, its claws a blur. Kael met it mid-strike, blade cleaving through its skull in a burst of black ichor. But two more surged in its place. Behind him, Elara hurled fire, scorching clusters into ash, though each flame seared her skin as much as it burned the enemy.

They fought in unison, steel and fire carving a path through the tide. Yet with every slain creature, more spilled from the titan’s chest, crawling, writhing, shrieking. The battlefield became a sea of abominations, their chorus drowning even the Unborn’s laughter.

Elara’s strength faltered. Her flame dimmed to embers, her hands blistered and shaking. “Kael—I can’t hold—”

He cut down another spawn, his own blood mixing with theirs on the dirt. He turned, fury blazing through exhaustion. “You’re not holding. You’re burning. Burn until there’s nothing left.”

Her eyes widened—not in fear, but in resolve. With a scream that tore her throat raw, she unleashed everything. Fire erupted from her body in a storm, white-hot and blinding, incinerating dozens of spawn in a single breath. The heat cracked the ground, set the trees ablaze, and forced even the Unborn to reel back, shielding its form.

Kael seized the opening. He charged, leaping through the blaze, his sword blazing brighter than ever. He struck at the fissure in the titan’s chest, his blade biting deep into the writhing womb of shadows.

The world split with the sound of a thousand voices shrieking in unison. The Wombspawn convulsed, their bodies bursting into dust as the fissure sealed shut.

Kael landed hard, his knees buckling, blood gushing from his side. Elara collapsed behind him, smoke rising from her blistered skin.

The battlefield fell eerily silent, save for the labored breathing of the two warriors.

The Unborn straightened, its form dimmed but intact. Its voice slithered through the air like a promise:

“You delay me. But every birth is inevitable. And next, I will birth myself.”

Kael gripped his sword tighter, his eyes like fire. “Then we’ll kill you in your crib.”