Chapter 6: Herald of destiny
The battlefield thrummed with ominous tension, the air thick with anticipation as Thomas and Gerald faced off. Thomas radiated a chilling confidence, his narrowed gaze piercing through the shadows. "You have strength, but strength alone does not ensure victory," he declared, his voice unwavering, laced with an edge. A dark aura of swirling void energy encased him, pulsing with his indomitable resolve.
Gerald's aura surged, a brilliant burst of radiant energy clashing with the darkness surrounding Thomas. "I don't fight for just strength—I fight for something far greater!" he shot back, ignited by the spirit of his allies, the fire of his dreams electrifying every nerve in his body. With a fierce determination, he charged forward.
Their movements entwined like opposing forces in a dynamic dance, each combatant weaving in and out of range. Gerald ducked beneath a sweeping strike of Thomas's dark shadow blade, feeling the wicked air where he had just stood. Then, with agility honed through discipline, he countered, unleashing a succession of rapid jabs that released radiant bursts towards his foe. Each strike resonated with the weight of his convictions, showcasing the growth he had undergone.
"With every attack, I adapt!" Gerald proclaimed, his voice lifting with confidence. "You underestimated me, and now, you will regret that mistake!" His expression hardened as he gazed down at Thomas, the confidence swelling within him palpable.
Suddenly, he invoked a dazzling wave of energy—his "void beam" vaulted from his mouth like an arrow of light. Thomas's grin faltered as he summoned a barrier, absorbing the blow. "Is that all you've got?" he taunted even as he recognized the evolution of his opponent. "If only you had harnessed this talent as a child," he teased.
"You won't break me!" Gerald cried out, pouring every ounce of strength into a relentless series of glowing punches. The very ground trembled beneath their clash, transformed into an explosive maelstrom of blinding light against the consuming shadows. With the spirit of his allies fueling him, Gerald surged forward with newfound fervor.
"You fight with rage, Gerald! Just like a child!" Thomas roared over the chaos. "What you lack is true belief—the inner strength of fighting for something worthwhile! You fight for freedom. I fight for control!"
A primal shout erupted from Gerald's core as he channeled the pinnacle of his energy. His radiant aura exploded in a blinding cascade of light, illuminating the battlefield and defiantly opposing Thomas's encroaching darkness. Each pulse of energy carried the essence of his allies' hopes, coalescing into a formidable force aimed straight at Thomas.
Yet, Thomas's unwavering confidence and seasoned experience anchored him. He staggered back briefly—the ferocity of Gerald's attack leaving its mark—but his resolve only deepened. "Nice try, but you're still not strong enough!" he bellowed, twisting the void energy around him into a furious counterattack that swirled like a tempest.
As their powers clashed, the resulting explosion of light and shadow detonated with cataclysmic force, shaking the very earth and scattering debris. Thomas thrived in the crucible of battle, clawing to maintain his dominance even as he pressed into Gerald.
Ronan the head of the Angus family , and Alaric the head of the Stephan family watched on like moths to flame, hearts pounding with every strike and clash. "Whatever the outcome, he shows the true power of belief!" Alaric shouted, his eyes glistening with excitement.
"This moment will shape us all!"
Ronan,whispered in awe, reflecting on the King of Matlock's unwavering resolve against The masked figure, feeling the weight of such conflict in his bones.
As the tempest began to settle and the dust slowly cleared, the gathered onlookers held their breath. Before them stood two figures entwined in turbulent energy—Gerald and Thomas, each steadfastly embodying their convictions. The fight for their essence had only just commenced.
Meanwhile, Damon stood inches away from the void entity, each staring at the other—one with disdain, the other with wary and vigilance. "Hahaha, you remind me of the Great Yakunda of Avalonia," the entity jeered, radiating an unsettling aura that pressed down on Damon, attempting to assert dominance. Yet, Damon remained resolute, showcasing untapped resilience. "Oh, you're strong," the entity mused, revealing another layer of his aura that created fissures beneath Damon's feet.
Damon locked eyes with the entity, unyielding. "You still have the strength to glare," the entity noted, irony dripping from his voice—an affront that ignited Damon's fierce determination. "Shall I simply eradicate this ego-driven creature?" he mused as the entity's aura pressed down upon him, increasing its weight to what felt like 300 pounds. But Damon was undeterred, resolute. "I will not bow; I just need to bide my time."
"Hoho, boy, it has been ages since I've encountered someone like you," the entity smirked. But Damon had plans of his own. Shifting like a poised serpent, he prepared to strike—but just as he lunged, the entity turned, halting Damon mid-motion as if nature itself conspired with the void.
"Curious… I sense something sinister in this child," the entity reflected, eyeing Damon with new seriousness. "This one is dangerous." He smiled, withdrawing his aura with ease. "Such a magnificent genius! My people have indeed been blessed," he proclaimed with palpable pride. "You must be wondering who I am," he stated, his voice richer with gravitas.
"I am the Void Man of Avalonia, the Lord of the Void people. I am Thorax, the first king of the Void and Martlock." Wheeler standing spellbound, Damon instinctively bowed, recognizing the weight of the name before him. "Greetings, ancestor of the Void," he managed, feeling the gravity of history echo around them. Thorax laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Rise, boy," he encouraged, a twinkle in his eyes. "Geniuses only bow to their parents."
"Now, back to business," Thorax continued, the air shifting as Damon simply observed. "Every king of the Void tribe has wielded at least three affinities with the elements. I possessed five," the entity shared, observing Damon's silence closely. "I sense six elemental energies emanating from you," he continued, a mixture of joy and curiosity dancing across his features. "You are destined for greatness, but tread carefully. The old man knew his genius would attract envy; others will undoubtedly target you."
"Extend your hand," Thorax instructed, and Damon complied, curiosity mingling with apprehension. As their hands clasped, energy surged through Damon's being—a sensation that was nearly intoxicating. An Insignia manifested on his palm, a mark of significance that suggested not a mere gift, but a monumental inheritance. He glanced at Thorax, who flickered slightly. "Hahaha, boy, I believe my time is drawing to a close. The insignia on your hand is a key to this void space, as well as to untold treasures and power. Use it wisely." His smile illuminated the profound moment. "Grow strong; trust me, this realm is not your limit." Leaning closer, Thorax murmured something inaudible before fading into streams of void energy. Damon couldn't suppress a chuckle. "This old man…"
With a jolt, Damon's consciousness surged back into his body. He blinked, feeling as though eons had passed, though mere seconds had elapsed. He glanced at his palm, the sigil unmistakably glowing, pulsing in sync with the Hall of Archives that now radiated a beam of violet light, dancing toward the Martlock sky.
The illumination captivated the attention of every member of the void families, both inside the building and far beyond as some bowed and some sang praises to the sky, they were witnessed the herald of destiny. "Someone has inherited the will of the ancestors," remarked a man on a distant mountain, cradling a little girl's hand.
Meanwhile, both Gerald and Thomas halted mid-fight, gazes instinctively drawn to the brilliant light piercing the sky. "Who has received the ancestors' will?" Thomas shouted, dashing toward the Hall of Archives. "No generation has ever activated this call," Gerald observed, urgency lacing his voice,as he raced after Thomas.