The camera pans across the blackened sky as Malakar Veilgrave, cloaked in shadow, descended from his beast with the grace of death itself. His boots crushed ash and cinders beneath them. Smoke danced around his cloak like loyal serpents. His eyes, cold and pale as a dead sun, scanned the battlefield.
He whispered beneath his breath:
"Here we are again."
A tremor ran through the ground. The forest whispered with haunting silence, broken only by the sound of leaves crunching under hurried steps.
Starmon was running. His breath was ragged. Sweat clung to his brow. Every tree, every root, every rock blurred as he sprinted through the overgrown trail, eyes darting for any sign of a hidden home.
"Where… Where is it…?"
He finally stopped, placing a hand on a tree, panting then—a memory.
"Only those who truly seek me… shall find me."
Morpheous' words.
Starmon closed his eyes and whispered in his heart:
"Please... help us."
A moment passed. A breeze stirred the leaves. When he opened his eyes again, something had changed.
Smoke. A small, thin spiral in the sky—not from battle… from a chimney.
Pushing through the bushes, branches clawing at his clothes, Starmon emerged into a small clearing. There, nestled among trees like a forgotten dream— Morpheous' house.
It was a modest wooden cabin, quiet… deceptively peaceful. He stepped toward it, cautiously. Every step heavier than the last. As he reached the door, hand trembling, he raised it to knock—
The door opened on its own.
A voice echoed from inside, calm and unmistakable:
"So you came. Took you long enough."
Starmon stepped in slowly, looking around—but the place was empty. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud.
He turned sharply—and standing right there at the door was Morpheous, arms crossed, staff leaning on the wall behind him.
"Let's get to work." Morpheous said.
Starmon blinked and asked "You knew I'd come?"
"I believed in my Grandmaster's prophecy," Morpheous said calmly, "And if my research is right—it's Astor the prophecy speaks of."
Starmon clenched his fists. "Then how do we bring him back?"
Morpheous pointed to the floor.
Beneath Starmon's boots, a massive magic circle pulsed with faint blue light, inscribed with ancient runes and sigils.
"This is a Soul Link Circle," Morpheous explained. "It connects our realm… with the Spiritual World."
"You mean I have to… go there and bring him with me?" Starmon asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Morpheous nodded.
"Exactly. You'll be entering the Spiritual Realm, beyond—where souls stay after life."
Morpheous looked him dead in the eyes.
"I can only send you there for almost 40 minutes or less but If you don't return in this time… or if your body gets damaged while you're gone…"
"You'll never be able to return back."
Starmon thought of Mark, Sofia and Elisa, fighting out there.
Then, he smiled—not with doubt, but resolve.
"Don't worry! I will not return until I get him back, I promise!"
Morpheous smirked.
"Alright, Hero. Step in."
The room darkened. Candles flickered.
Starmon stood at the center of the glowing circle. Morpheous gripped his staff, eyes glowing with magical light.
"I will protect your body with my all might so you focus on bringing him back."
Starmon closed his eyes.
"okay, let's get this."
Morpheous raised his staff and began the incantation.
"By the sacred bonds of soul and spirit… By the ancient flame that links all fates—GRAVITAS ANIMA!"
Light exploded from the circle.
Starmon's body levitated, arms limp, eyes rolled white. His soul ripped away in a stream of blue energy.
And at that moment—
BOOOOM!
A distant explosion rocked the earth.
Morpheous looked toward the window, teeth clenched.
"So it's already started."
The Aetherian and Moonveil forces stood their ground—trembling, wounded, but not backing down. At the front stood King Albert Arc, his robes torn, but his spirit unshaken.
Albert raised his hand and shouted to the soldiers, voice like thunder:
"Do not get afraid of this Monster!It ends today. It's kill or be killed!"
A wave of resolve surged through the troops. They yelled in unison, charging toward Malakar's approaching army.
But Malakar only smiled—slowly, mockingly—before his voice dropped ice into their veins.
"Nice motivation…"
His tone twisted cold.
"But you really believe there's an or?"
He lifted his black obsidian staff, the runes carved into it glowing like veins of crimson fire. Then, in a single word:
"Decay."
The ground before him cracked open, like the jaws of hell. Flames and purple curse energy erupted from the fissures. Screams rang out as a dozen soldiers were swallowed in an instant, their bodies dissolving in midair, their armor melting to ash.
And then he pointed his staff forward… And his entire army charged.
From behind him, Drogath Veylor picked up his massive double-edged axe, slung it over his shoulder, and began marching slowly forward like death in slow motion—his every step crushing stone underfoot.
Malakar raised his left hand and whispered another spell:
"Blightstorm."
From the sky, purple bolts of corrupted lightning rained down like divine judgment, striking mages in their formations and turning them into screaming silhouettes before they vanished.
Soldiers tried to get close—sword raised high.
Malakar didn't even turn.
He stepped lightly with his heel, and with that one step, the ground shot upward like a blade, impaling the soldiers mid-run. Blood rained like mist.
"You insects are beneath even pity."
His voice echoed like a funeral bell.
Albert screamed, "NOW!" and unleashed Arcane Wave, sending a blue shockwave forward, knocking back dozens of black-armored soldiers.
Archers fired from the behind. Mages cast Blizzard Bind, Infernal Arrows, Celestial Chains—
—but Malakar waved his staff once and neutralized the magic midair, reducing it to harmless embers.
Moonveil's guards clashed violently with the black-armored legion. The sound of metal clashing and magic exploding thundered across the plains.
Drogath Veylor finally entered the fray. With one spin of his axe, he split through five soldiers like wet paper, blood streaking the air behind him like ribbons. He let out a powerful roar.
Malakar, meanwhile, floated several feet into the air. His voice roared across the battlefield:
"Let the skies weep, let the earth shatter. Today, Aetherium falls!"
The screen zoomed out to show the chaos, the madness, the fire, the lightning, the blood—and then cuts to a close-up of Sofia, her face pale, yet eyes burning.
She whispered, "Starmon, I hope you are alright!."
Smoke veiled the battlefield like a shroud of war. Screams of steel and magic echoed across Aetherium's ruins.
King Albert Arc, his breath sharp, his robes burned at the edges, stared forward—eyes locked on a figure wading through destruction~Malakar Veilgrave.
Albert grit his teeth. "I won't let this become another graveyard!"
Raising his staff, he called out:
"Arcane Bind!"
Chains of shimmering blue energy shot forward—
Malakar tilted his head. The chains disintegrated midair.
Albert's heart skipped. He cast again.
"Nova Rain!"
Searing lights fell like comets—but Malakar stepped to the side, cloak fluttering, not even glancing at Albert.
He walked slowly through the dust—his eyes scanning, not for enemies…
…but for someone.
Albert roared in frustration.
Suddenly, a brave soldier ran up beside him, holding out a longsword.
"Your Majesty—take this!"
Albert grasped the sword with burning resolve, handing his staff to the man.
"We have to kill him here and now." He charged.
"HAAAAAAH!"
With a battle cry that shook the dying wind, Albert leapt.
Malakar still didn't look at him. His eyes stared outward across the chaos. Bodies flying. Fires burning.
"I can't believe… my fools generals were defeated... by insects."
His lips twisted in disdain.
"But where is that YT…?"
Albert slashed, stabbed, swung with fury, but every strike met a sudden shimmer—a translucent dome of dark red energy had bloomed around Malakar like a blood-soaked shield.
The King's blade bounced off the magical barrier with ringing clangs.
Still no reaction.
With gritted teeth, Albert leapt back, planted his feet, and raised his sword, fire surging around it.
"FLAME STRIKE!"
The sword ignited, a blazing inferno consuming the steel, and with a yell, Albert swung it down with full might, flames trailing in a wide arc.
For the first time, Malakar blinked.
He closed his eyes.
The battlefield noise dimmed in his ears. Like a hawk hunting prey through chaos, he focused on the threads of magic, the echoes of power.
And then…
"…Found you."
He whispered it like a death sentence. His body flickered.
Albert's strike hit empty air. "What the—?!"
He looked around—desperately.
Malakar was gone. It seems like the devil had changed his target.
Then screen faded to black and title card appeared:
"Chronicles of YT
[Spiritual World – Unknown Realm]
The moment his body vanished from the living world, Starmon opened his eyes again…
But this world was like nothing he'd ever seen before.
Everything was white.
The ground, the sky, the clouds—no moon, no sun, yet it was brilliantly lit. A soft, otherworldly breeze whispered through the eerily quiet streets lined with ghostlike houses.
No shadows, No sound, Only silence and light.
"Is this... Spiritual World?" Starmon murmured, taking his first step on the pale path.
As he moved forward, each footstep echoed like ripples in water. His heart pounded.
"Where would I even begin to find him? This place feels endless…"
Suddenly, he froze.
His eyes widened. His breath hitched.
Ahead of him, under the white sky, two figures were talking casually by a fence.
One with a playful smirk, arms folded…
The other, upright and proud, radiating calm authority.
Stephen and Steve.
Starmon's lips trembled. His vision blurred. "Dad… Uncle…"
Without thinking, he ran—tears streaming from his eyes.
"DAD!! UNCLE!!"
He crashed into them, arms wrapping around both men tightly, the weight of loss pouring out all at once. He broke down in their embrace.
Stephen and Steve were stunned at first. Then they both slowly wrapped their arms around him.
"Starmon?" Stephen blinked.
"Son? What happened?" Steve asked, holding him close.
Starmon, eyes squeezed shut, only shook his head, still sobbing.
"Nothing…! I just missed you… that's all…"
[Back in the Living World – Outside Morpheous' House]
A sudden crack of dark magic split the air— And Malakar Veilgrave appeared in the forest.
The most feared being in the world had arrived, standing tall in his dark, flowing robes. His eyes glowed red. His curved staff shimmered with cursed energy.
He looked forward— A smirk tugged at his lips.
Standing there, descending calmly from the stairs of his wooden cabin, was none other than…
Morpheous.
The sage's robe rustled in the breeze, staff held loosely in hand.
Morpheous: "Didn't expect you to come in person."
Malakar (smirking): "Well, you left me no choice. Besides… you know how sentimental I get."
Morpheous (eyebrow raised): "Really? What brought you here? Finally want to admit you've lost?"
Malakar (tone sharpening): "No. I'm here for a boy. One who calls himself YT. And I know he's here."
He pointed toward the cabin with one hand, eyes narrowing.
"Because I can feel the presence of two people."
Morpheous didn't flinch.
"And what made you think I'd be hiding him?"
"Because you magicians always been cowards in a wise man's robe." Malakar responded.
That struck a nerve, but Morpheous smirked, shrugging it off.
"You could be right," Morpheous said. "But if you think I'm going to let you—"
Malakar was already walking.
In a flash, he was halfway up the stairs, ignoring the warning entirely.
"WAIT!" Morpheous shouted, and placed his hand on Malakar's shoulder.
Malakar halted mid-step, a growl under his breath.
"Move it."
"Or what?" Morpheous asked, raising a brow. "You'll fight? That's what I want"
Malakar's expression turned to ice and then—CRACK!
He spun, driving his elbow toward Morpheous' chest like lightning—but Morpheous caught it mid-air.
The sheer force pushed him skidding backward, boots dragging into the dirt, aura flaring.
Malakar turned fully toward him now, shadows crawling from under his cloak.
"You want to stall me? Fine. Let's see how much TIME… you can buy."
Morpheous cracked his neck and smiled.
"Then let's see how long it takes to make you shut up."
Both men flared with power—Light and shadow colliding.
[Spiritual World – White Plane of Souls]
Fifteen minutes had passed in a blink.
Starmon sat between Stephen and Steve, laughing quietly as he shared stories of their times together. The serene glow of the spirit world made it feel like a dream—but one he never wanted to wake up from. Until…
Stephen: "Well… it's been amazing seeing you again, kid. But… why are you here?"
Starmon blinked.
"Oh, right!" He stood up. "I almost forgot… I came to find someone."
Steve: "Find who?"
Starmon: "His name is… Astor. Do either of you know him?"
Stephen tilted his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Astor, huh? That name does sound familiar…"
His eyes lit up. "Yes! Astor. I remember now! Follow me."
Starmon's heart skipped.
"Its time, I'm gonna see him in person. No matter what but I will make you come back with me"
They walked briskly, weaving through faint crowds of souls wandering about. Stephen led confidently through the glow, pointing ahead.
"There. That's Astor."
Starmon raised his hand, excitement welling up inside.
"Astor!!"
A man turned toward him—his body slightly hunched, beard streaked with white. Wrinkles creased his face, but his smile was gentle.
Old Man: "Yes? Did someone call?"
Starmon's jaw tightened.
"H-He's not Astor! It can't be him"
Stephen: "That's him. Astor."
Old Man: "Yes. I'm Astor. Just Astor." He chuckled lightly. "We only get one name in my planet, but we keep it forever. I heard people get more..."
Starmon's excitement faded into confusion.
"No way… this isn't him. My heart's telling me he's not."
Old Man Astor: "Who are you, young man?"
Starmon (quickly): "No one—sorry! Must've been a mistake!"
The three turned away, continuing silently. Steve finally broke the quiet.
"That wasn't him?"
Starmon: "No… my heart said no. That wasn't Astor. I think he was about of my age"
Stephen: "How did he look like?"
Starmon: "I don't know. I've never seen him. But… there was a girl named Mary. She meant everything to him. Maybe she'd know something…"
Stephen: "Mary? Doesn't ring any bells."
Suddenly, from behind:
Random Soul 1: "Did you hear about that abnormal?"
Random Soul 2: "Yeah. They say he's going to vanish soon."
Starmon turned sharply.
"Who're you talking about?"
Soul 1: "You don't know? Some guy who died at Malakar Veilgrave's hands… like most of us."
Soul 2: "But unlike us, he begged for a second chance. Said he wanted revenge. Got reborn. Then died again like a fool."
"Why'd he do that? We know we can't defeat Malakar so why waste our life."
Starmon's eyes widened.
"That has to be him… That's Astor!"
"Where is he now?!"
[Living World – Forest Outside Morpheous' House]
Malakar: "If this is how you want to waste your time… just know I don't have much of it to spare."
Morpheous exhaled sharply and gripped his staff.
"Don't worry. This'll be over soon."
He slid his left hand up the staff's shaft—light engulfing the wood—and with a crack of blinding energy, it transformed into a glowing sword, wrapped in a blue aura.
Malakar smirked.
"You got some tricks Magician but don't expect less from me."
He tapped his staff to the ground, and in a similar surge of red energy, it morphed into a curse-forged blade, hissing with malice.
Morpheous narrowed his eyes.
"Starmon… hurry. We don't have much time."
He launched forward, blue aura trailing behind like a comet.
Malakar met him halfway, swords raised, darkness and light screaming as they collided—
CLAAAANG!!
The shockwave shattered the nearby trees. Leaves burst into ash. The skies above the forest seemed to dim at the clash of their energy.
Morpheous lunged, sweeping in a fluid arc of "Aether Slash"—a blade of pure mana that carved through the air.
Malakar countered, his own sword glowing crimson as he invoked the "Curse of Shattered Bones", sending jagged shockwaves rippling through the earth.
Morpheous lept backward, boots gouging the soil, but held his ground.
Morpheous (breathing hard):
"No mortal tyranny will stand while I draw breath!"
He hurled a second strike—"Celestial Pierce"—aimed at Malakar's heart.
Malakar raised a single arm and swung and erased his blow.
Malakar (smiling cruelly):
"Your tricks are quaint, wizard. My curses are woven from doom."
In a heartbeat, Malakar's eyes glowed hotter. He thrust his blade forward, unleashing
"Titan's Ruin"
A curved spike of dark energy that shot toward Morpheous like a missile. Morpheous side-stepped, but the attack ripped through the trunk of an ancient oak, splintering it in two.
Morpheous gripped his sword tighter, sweat beading on his brow. He channeled a ripple of power through his blade:
Morpheous (voice echoing):
"By the Light of the First Circle—Aegis Flame!"
A column of white-blue fire erupted around him, consuming every tendril of shadow. Malakar stood unscathed within, eyes narrowing.
Malakar (voice ice-cold):
"Such warmth… yet utterly useless."
With a casual flick, he dissipated the flames, then pivoted, sending Morpheous sprawling with a backhanded slash.
Bleeding but unbowed, Morpheous took out the Time crystal from his robe. It pulsed once—twice—with an inner glow. He held it with his both hands and pressed it.
Morpheous (whispered, powerful):
"Chrono Lock!"
A shockwave of white light rippled outward. For an instant, every leaf froze mid-fall, every bird's wing hung suspended, and even Malakar's cloak fluttered to a standstill. The entire forest held its breath—stopped in time.
Morpheous exhaled, downward gaze focused on still-life. He bowed his head in grim triumph.
He lifted his eyes—only to find Malakar standing before him, hand curled around his throat, crimson sword pressed under his chin.
Malakar (voice echoing unnaturally):
"Only those who lives in time stops… I'm beyond time."
He squeezed, driving Morpheous to his knees, the Chrono Lock unravelling in a shudder of displaced air. Morpheous's eyes bulged as time snapped back—his stone fall from his hand to the ground.
Each Malakar's attack hit Morpheous badly. Blow after blow rained down:
A thrust to the side, cracking ribs like brittle wood. A sweep across the collarbone that tore flesh with unholy precision. A final, devastating lunge—piercing Morpheous's stomach.
Blood blossomed against his robes as he gasped, collapsing to the ground. Malakar turned back to Morpheous's house. But Morpheous, driven by sheer will, caught Malakar's leg. The Dark Lord snarled—
Malakar (snarling):
"I appreciate your talent Wizard. You really got some tricks"
—with brutal force, he kicked Morpheous across the clearing. Morpheous flew through the air, crashing into the underbrush far beyond sight.
Malakar (voice echoing unnaturally):
"But I don't have more time to waste!"
Malakar watched coldly as Morpheous's shape disappeared among broken branches. Then he turned his back to Morpheous's house again. With measured steps, he strode toward Morpheous's cottage. Each footfall left a rupture in the earth—an omen of his unstoppable march.
Inside the mystical house of Morpheous, all was eerily still.
Aether shimmered gently across the runes inscribed into the wooden floor, glowing in rhythmic pulses of white. In the center, suspended midair by the Spiritual Binding Circle, was Starmon. His arms dangled slightly outward, his eyes pure white—lifeless, as if his soul was no longer home.
Suddenly, the front door creaked open—not from wind. From the shadows stepped Malakar Veilgrave.
His boots echoed with quiet menace on the floorboards. As he entered, his piercing eyes landed on the floating body before him.
Malakar (smirking coldly):
"So this is the great hero YT? The savior of the pitiful? The bane of my generals?"
He circled the magic circle like a lion stalking a cub, voice dripping with disdain.
"Pathetic. Floating like a child's forgotten puppet.
Protected by runes, by spells, by—what they say? Faith?"
He looked at Starmon's appearance.
Malakar (mocking):
"You look so fragile. How can they lose by a kid like you?."
Then, without warning, he grasped Starmon's throat in one hand, lifting his body as if it weighed nothing.
"How tragic. Dying at the hands of great Malakar Veilgrave, and you're not even in there."
With his other hand, Malakar drew his sword backward—aiming to pierce Starmon's heart.
Malakar: "I wish if I could hear your last words"
But then—something changed. Starmon's white eyes twitched.
The orbs began to shift, glowing. The color drained from white—into a burning crimson red.
Malakar (eyes narrowing):
"…What?"
Suddenly, a pulse of white-hot energy surged from Starmon's body. The magic circle exploded into radiant chaos. Blinding light engulfed the room.
BOOM!
An unstoppable wave of magical energy blasted outward. The walls of Morpheous's house shattered, vaporized by the surge. Malakar flew backward through the wall, smashing into trees far beyond the clearing.
The entire right side of the house was obliterated.
When the dust finally settled…A shadow stood within the ruined remains of the magic circle.
It was not Starmon Now. It was Astor.
Head lowered, looking at his hands, the wind tousling his hair. He lifted his head.
His eyes burned red—piercing through the debris, through the smoke, through fate itself.
Astor YT returned.
TO BE CONTINUED
Episode Ends.
"Chronicles of YT"
Episode Title: The Chosen One-I