The sky thundered with a sorrow that shook the very soul—a disturbing roar that cut deep into the recesses of the heart, a cosmic wail born of pure suffering. The once-white clouds began to blacken, swirling like a giant wound slowly tearing open, pouring forth thick darkness. From within its cracks, glowing meteors emerged—not merely as celestial rocks, but as arrows of wrath shot from the bow of death itself. They descended slowly, almost gracefully, yet carried an undeniable message of extinction. Their target was clear: the heart of the city of Elysion and the sanctity of the forests of Elicia. Peace was to be turned to dust. Memories were to be erased into nothingness.
Deep within Tartarus, upon a throne carved from despair and cracking bones, Azraelis watched his masterpiece unfold. A laugh escaped his lips—not one of joy, but a hoarse, dark satisfaction echoing through the hollow chamber. Before him, the pool of blood rippled, reflecting every detail of the terror unfolding in the world above. His long, black, sharp fingers danced over its surface, guiding each meteor with gentle movements, like a conductor leading an orchestra of destruction. "Playtime is over, Mortals...!" he whispered, his voice hissing like wind through graveyard corridors. "Death... has come..."
High above, atop the Sunspire Tower, Gaius stepped out from the window and climbed to the peak, witnessing the approaching storm of death. The wind roared, tearing at his robes and hair, yet he stood unshaken. Every muscle in his face tightened, frozen in an expression not of fear, nor of courage—but of grim acceptance. His eyes, which once radiated the authority of a king, now reflected the orange glow of the burning sky. He stepped forward, nearing the edge, welcoming the slow-approaching storm of death. "The time has come..." He murmured, his voice nearly lost to the moaning wind and growing thunder.
Just below him, the city of Elysion erupted into chaos. Screams and cries formed a symphony of fear. Yet, amid the disorder, something else was born.
No one pushed. No one looted. Instead, hands reached for one another—
An old man pulled a stranger's child into his embrace. A young woman formed lines with unfamiliar faces, holding onto each other tightly. They prayed not with words, but with shared trembling breaths, with heartbeats racing in collective fear. A silent resistance.
Deep within the forest of Elicia, the witches emerged from their wooden huts, gazing up at the suffering sky, watching as something beyond their understanding prepared to reap their souls.
And at last, their leader emerged—the eldest, the strongest, the founder of the witch race, the hero who led the rebellion, the first from the human world to dare defy the power of Hell alone. His steps were heavy, yet filled with an unyielding will. His wooden staff touched the ground, and the earth trembling softly.
Zarek… Zarek the First Light.
"This…" his voice cracked, heavy with age and wounded memories. His wrinkled eyes gazed upon the torn sky, seeing not just meteors, but a pattern. A repetition. "Will… the past repeat itself?"
Back in Elysion, Gaius drew a deep breath. His voice suddenly boomed, amplified by something beyond mere humanity, cutting through the panic.
"Listen," he cried, and the city fell silent for a moment. Each word was spoken with pause, with weight. "Lock… all doors. Protect… those beside you." His eyes swept over the crowd below, capturing every terror-stricken face. "Do not… let a single soul… fall." He stood taller, challenging the sky. "Leave this to us."
The deafening roar that split the sky was not like thunder—it was as if the heavens themselves were cracking. Liora and Danteus moved like the wind, ushering the small bodies of Elysion's children into a dark but sturdy underground shelter. Liora guided them firmly; she knelt, looked into their fear-filled eyes, and said in a voice far calmer than she felt, "You're safe here. It's just a storm of stones." Her gentle touch on a little girl's cheek was a spell of reassurance as powerful as any magic.
Nearby, Seraphina held the wrinkled arm of an elderly woman, guiding her patiently even as her own heart raced. "Almost there, Grandma. Just a little further."
Right behind her, Hector grunted, his hands pushing a cart filled with panicked livestock. The smell of blood and sweat mixed with that of the animals, creating the sharp scent of struggle. "No one gets left behind," he muttered, his eyes scanning every corner, making sure even the last kid was brought along.
At the top of the tower, the witches of Elysion stood ready. Their arms rose in unison, robes fluttering in the wind they themselves had summoned.
"WIND, PUSH—!"
Their voices merged into one echoing cry. A visible, tangible wave of wind shot upward, crashing against the meteor shower. The sound of hissing and shrieking air filled the sky, deafening to the ear.
WHOOOSSHHH… BRAAKKK—!
The celestial stones roared, their speed slowing as if hitting an invisible wall of air—but they continued to descend like pebbles hitting the surface of water.
"LIGHTNING, BIND!"
Ken leaped onto the tower's peak, his hands clawing at the sky. The veins in his neck bulged. Purple lightning erupted from his fingertips.
ZZZTTTT… KRAAKKKK—
The lightning ensnared several meteors at once, binding them in vibrating, crackling roots of energy. The celestial rocks hung suspended in the air, rumbling wildly like chained dogs struggling to break free. Sweat poured from Ken's temples, every muscle in his body trembling under the nearly unbearable strain.
"MIST, HEAL NOW!"
As if summoned by Ken's cry, a shadowy mist emerged, sealing the wounds in the clouds, blocking more meteors from falling. And suddenly, a loud cry echoed from two directions—as if two entities of the world were speaking—one expressing its pain, the other mourning its companion's suffering—
On the other side, Ken seemed to be reaching his limit. His breath grew ragged. "DANTEUS… FINISH THE REST!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and nearly swallowed by the roar of battle. One knee braced, he held back ten of the largest meteors alone—bearing their deadly shockwaves by himself.
Danteus, who had just locked the last shelter, nodded. No need for a second command. He shot into the air, soaring past the witches of Elysion, past Ken's lightning binds.
He hung at the zenith of the sky—a dawn bringing hope to those drowning in despair. Around him, the air vibrated, and static electricity made everyone's hair below stand on end. Purple lightning began to dance around him—fierce, ancient bursts of deep violet energy. Its hum was different, deeper, like the sound of a dying star.
Without a gesture, without a spell, with only a single thought, he released it.
ZZZRAAAK–GRAAAK—!
Purple lightning struck from the sky without warning—unleashing like the sound of extinction. It slammed into all remaining meteors, piercing and shattering the rough stones into fragments—turning them into fine dust and shimmering light before vanishing completely.
Amidst a sky that had become a sea of flame, Zarek the First Light stood like a candle in the dark of night. His frail body suddenly straightened like that of a young hero, his wrinkled eyes narrowing as they gazed firmly at the dying sky. His simple wooden staff trembled violently, sensing the wrath of a threatened earth.
"In the name of light... Arise with us!" his voice cut through the mad roar of the meteors, calling upon something ancient.
Simultaneous with that cry, the entire forest of Elicia awoke. Every tree—from the ancient hundred-foot oaks to the delicate moonblossom flowers— emitted a golden-yellow light. The lights merged, forming the gigantic figure of the Light Guardian, so vast that its shadow dwarfed even Elysion.
BOOM!
The Light Guardian intercepted every threat with its massive body.
With a slow, majestic movement, it turned, shielding Elysion and Elicia with its shoulders.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Every celestial rock that touched it exploded into golden particles, like a purifying ground cleansing dark souls. The sound of the explosions thundered, then transitioned into the soothing chime of heavenly bells, creating a fearful awe that brought calm to those who witnessed it.
"BASTARD...!"
Azraelis's fury shook the very dimensions of Tartarus.
It rattled every crevice and space,like the scream of a soul refusing its death—scattering the birds near the Tartarus portal, sending them flying in chaos.
He took a piece of obsidian from the fragments of his throne. His black hand clenched the stone. So hard, it pulsed in his grasp—
He hurled it into the pool of blood before him.
"TASTE, FEAR...!"
From the highest reaches of the sky—
A dark light prepared its descent.
It was so immense,it blotted out the sunlight with its formidable body.
The clouds were torn anew with a mortal wound—
A thunderous roar screamed of a killing pain from within.
"READY FOR A BIG BOY..."
"HAHAHAHA..."
His laughter boomed,shattering the eardrums of every living thing that heard it.
The sky was like cloth torn by a giant's hand. The clouds parted slowly, unveiling the stage for the destroyer now fully revealed. The black obsidian stone descended like a final judgment—so massive it blotted out the sun, turning day into deepest night. It moved closer with a slow, deliberate pace, every inch of its movement deadly, terrifying, and intimidating to any who witnessed it.
Its hissing sound sliced through the air, like millions of souls screaming in unison—
Its power was immense and devastating.
Ten times larger than all the meteors Ken had bound together.
This object was the end of all ends.
Poised to strike Elysion and Elicia simultaneously,annihilating them into dust.
"This is the end..." uttered a citizen of Elysion in a hollow voice, their empty eyes reflecting the image of the approaching death.
But in Elicia, something else was happening.
Zarek had not surrendered.
His aged body stood straight, his wooden staff glowing like a star fallen to earth.
"Not today...!"his voice thundered, overpowering the roar and hiss of death. "Our light is not yet extinguished!"
The witches around him answered the call. Their hands rose, emitting golden light that shot upward like roots of radiance.
With a cry that shook the heavens,the Guardian of Light shot upwards—hurling itself with its full weight against the black stone.
Cords of light tightly bound the destroyer.
Cords of hope woven from courage and conviction.
With every movement of the colossal stone,the cords tightened, eroding its jet-black surface. Shards of obsidian scattered like fragments of shattered night.
Though they could not stop it.
There was no sign of surrender in their eyes.
Spurred on by the struggle of their comrades and kin, the witches of Elysion flew into the air—without command, without coordination—all focused in the same direction, even scattered across the sky. Their hands were directed as one. Whips of light lashed out, lightning struck—eroding the surface of the stone, piece by piece.
On the darkened streets of Elysion, two figures stood firm like unshakable pillars. Danteus and Hector—brothers not by blood, but by choice and sacrifice. Their eyes met in a silent understanding that needed no words.
"Just like the old days..." Danteus murmured, his voice low yet clear amid the surrounding panic.
Hector grinned, the fire of defiance blazing in his eyes. "Remember... we either fall or fly."
Without a command, without a signal, they shot forward.
Two streaks of light—one elegantly red,one blazing purple—pierced the dark sky.
The shadowy mist and parting clouds seemed to clear a path for them,acknowledging a courage that surpassed even the instinct to survive.
Danteus's usually cool hands now radiated with a roaring, elegant fury of purple lightning. Each bolt that sprang from his fingertips was not a blind rage, but a measured art. The lightning danced around the colossal stone, weaving a net of energy that began to erode the obsidian surface.
Beside him, Hector's body was now cloaked in a vibrant, deeply personal purple flame—a fire that seemed to know its master. It didn't just burn; it consumed every trace of darkness it touched. Every inch of the black stone touched by his fire transformed into tiny crystals, scattering like diamond dust.
But the giant stone was still too massive.
Hector glanced at his brother.
"Boy...Don't forget about the chicken noodles."
The sky, once pitch black, suddenly became the stage for the most epic spectacle Elysion had ever witnessed. A young witch fell to her knees, her green eyes reflecting the magnificent purple light. "The fairy tale finally came true..." she whispered, her voice trembling with awe and disbelief.
In the air, the two brothers hovered like heroes descended from legend.
"COME ON BIG BOY... FEAR ME IF YOU CAN!"
Their cries merged, echoing through the skies like a final challenge to fate itself.
The two figures shot forward at a speed difficult for the eye to follow,leaving sonic booms in their wake.
The clouds parted,the mist withdrew—
forming an empty corridor as if nature itself was clearing a path.
The mighty Guardian of Light tilted its head, as if paying respect to the two heroes streaking past.
Its golden light blended with the purple flashes,creating a magical synergy never before seen.
WITH DEADLY PRECISION, Danteus and Hector plunged directly into the core of the giant obsidian stone. As their bodies struck, time seemed to slow. From within the black stone, purple light began to bloom like a gigantic flower blossoming in the night.
BOOOOOOM!
A tremendous explosion echoed—a soul-shaking roar that vibrated through every living being. The giant stone shattered into millions of purple crystal fragments scattering across the sky, glittering under the remnants of sunlight that managed to pierce the darkness.
But their spectacle wasn't over.
Danteus and Hector turned in unison,
Witnessing the debris from the destruction of the"big boy,"
They snapped their fingers simultaneously.
SNAP!
The sound was small, but its impact was devastating.
Purple lightning immediately snaked out like roots of a death tree, zapping the remaining fragments of the big boy into nothingness.
Simultaneously,mad purple flames erupted across the sky, burning away the might of hell in their hands.