His soul sought all that the Hobgoblin was. It looked to devour its entire being. It sought to reduce it to something as predictable as a heartbeat, overwriting its complexity with the simplicity of absolute understanding.
For the first time, the Hobgoblin took a backwards step. Its rage wavered for just a moment, as its ragged breathing took over, and its muscles showed the slightest glimmer of fatigue. Beam followed it coldly.
It swung at him from overhead, but Beam was already deflecting the strike before it had even thrown it, his blade sliding past the Hobgoblin's massive weapon, in up close, where he severed two of its fingers and landed his deepest slash on his torso yet.
"Ah... We have our turning point," Dominus said quietly. The other three looked at him, then back to the fight.
The Hobgoblin stood looking at its missing fingers in something that approached disbelief. Its jaw slackened for a second, and its overwhelming intensity flickered, like a candle in a breeze. It looked at Beam as he stood, leaning on his sword. Though tired, the boy's eye did not leave the creature for even a second.
It gave a great howl as it tilted its head up towards the moon and beat its chest, sending droplets of its green blood raining down on the soil. And then it picked up its sword again in both hands, its rage reignited like a bonfire, seeking to draw as deeply into its own depths as Beam had from his.
Its muscles bulged, as though growing – and then they really did grow. Like the century-long growth of a tree in fast forward, the muscles of it tore, blood shot outwards, before they reformed again, twice as large as before, muscles coiling around themselves like vines. And then the other arm followed suit, and then its legs, and then its torso, and then its whole body bulged and doubled in size.
Dripping blood, its skin began to regrow. A single horn grew out of its head and all its wounds healed. Only then did it stop its murderous howl, twice the size of Beam by now, its sword appearing tiny in its new massive palms.
On a fundamental level, the arrogance of the beast's transformation irritated Beam and he found himself using what little energy he had left to twist his face in annoyance.
This beast, the same one that just moments before had betrayed its fear – that had taken a step back. It now surged forwards with confidence, after inflating its body and dramatically increasing its strength and slightly increasing its speed.
But Beam's heart had already tasted its hesitation. He had already taken a bite out of its being. This here was a battle of spirit – and the Hobgoblin had already lost.
The giant creature carried out that attack of his, thinking it had cornered Beam, but whilst it looked like he was doing nothing, his body was already in the perfect position to respond. His eye flashed his authority and the stampeding beast was forced to pause for a moment, without understanding why.
It did not have the mind to comprehend that which had happened to it. It did not realize that the instinct it felt was the same instinct that every animal felt – the fear of death. It was not astute enough to recognize the truth from Beam's eye: that had it had already been seen through entirely.
It cancelled out the fear with rage and continued forward, the same frightened soul merely in an enlarged body.
As Dominus prepared to move, a sense of danger made him pause. The smell of smoke. Beam's ember had managed to catch fire.
His flames that had burned three different colours, now they burned all the same, in a raging inferno, he'd just barely managed to integrate the two essences of light and dark within his soul. But would it be enough? For certain, his progress had been unlocked and his potential poured forth – but progress needed time. How great was the power he had achieved?