They weren't saving Morg City. They were feeding it. Their pain, their violence, their desperate rituals—they were fuel for the Apothicons, the eldritch gods trying to tear through the dimensional barrier.
Vincent finally snapped. He charged, not at the Shadow Man, but at the Summoning Key. He grabbed it. call of duty-R- black ops iii zombies
As the last item touched the circle, the sky screamed. A massive, arachnid beast—the Parasite's mother—skittered down the side of a skyscraper. It wasn't a fight. It was a slaughter. They weren't saving Morg City
The sky over Morg City was the color of a fresh bruise. It wasn't night, nor day—just a perpetual, weeping twilight. Nero Blackstone, once the city's most flamboyant magician, now stood on a rooftop in a stained tuxedo, clutching a sword that hummed with otherworldly malice. Vincent finally snapped
They reached the Rift. A place beneath the city where geometry failed. The Summoning Key floated in the center, pulsing with a heartbeat that wasn't theirs. The Shadow Man was there, waiting, dressed in a perfect suit and a wider, more horrible smile.
He didn't die. The Key healed him instantly, restoring the bullet hole. The scream he let out wasn't human.
When the light faded, the Shadow Man was gone. But so was most of Vincent. He was kneeling, his skin turning gray, his eyes bleeding shadow. The Key was fused to his palm.