The chamber in the heart of the Darklands thrummed with something older than fear. Shadows clung to the stone like rot, slick with age, heavy with memory. And there, standing as though summoned from nightmare, was Gunmar — colossal, immovable, eternal.

The Decimaar Blade rested across his armored palm, breathing corruption. Its blackened metal pulsed like a heartbeat, veins of red crawling beneath the surface as though alive. It whispered — to Gunmar, to the stone, to the trembling soul before it.

"You are brave," Gunmar said, stepping forward, voice like the cracking of tectonic plates. "But bravery is not strength."

The Trollhunter, bound and kneeling, met his eye.

"You fight in the name of Daylight. You believe the light protects you. But where is your light now, Trollhunter?" He gestured to the pitch surrounding them. "Where is your hope?"

He stepped closer. The blade followed. Its edge hovered near the Trollhunter’s throat, cold despite the searing hum of dark magic.

"You are not here because you are victorious," Gunmar growled, circling. "You are here because you were brought. Because I chose to see you. Because I see… potential."

He stopped behind them, placing the tip of the blade against the nape of their neck — not to pierce, not yet, but to press. To burn.

"You do not yet understand the Decimaar," Gunmar whispered. "It does not take life. It changes it. Breaks it. Reforges it. Into something… useful."

He leaned close to their ear. The weight of him, the ancientness, made the air harder to breathe.

"I do not need another corpse for the river. I need a champion."

A pause.

"One forged not in the sun, but in shadow."

He stepped in front of them again, crouching — yes, crouching, to meet their gaze, his single eye glowing like a brand.

"You have been lied to. Trained to see me as monster. But I am the truth. The last truth. And I will make you see it."

He raised the Decimaar Blade.

Its glow engulfed them both.

"I offer you a choice," Gunmar said. "Kneel, and become more than you were ever allowed to be. Or resist, and become nothing but a lesson for the next foolish hero."

Silence.

The shadows hissed.

Even the stone seemed to wait.

And Gunmar — Gunmar waited.

He didn’t need to swing the blade yet. Not when fear did the first cuts. Not when doubt had already begun its work.

Because even champions of Daylight… cast shadows.