The battlefield roared to life. Mountains cracked, rivers boiled, and the sky fractured as the Outer God stretched its colossal form, towering over continents. Its very presence warped reality, pulling the twelve toward a tension they had never felt—even fully awakened.
But the Revenants and Mirrored Six stood united. The White pulsed through them, threads connecting all twelve like a single organism. Every heartbeat resonated with potential, every movement a threat to the Outer God's supremacy.
Lucien stepped forward, eyes glowing, hands raised. The others moved instinctively, their postures natural, synchronized, and deadly. For a heartbeat, the universe itself seemed to pause—not even the Outer God could act.
And then the battle began.
Kairo fractured time around the Outer God, slowing sections of its body while leaving others untouched. Temporal afterimages darted in and out, striking points the god could not defend.
Eryndra weaved temporal threads across the battlefield, reversing localized strikes before they landed. Shadows collided with chaos as Ashveil and Zarynth tore through massive constructs of void energy, their movements unpredictable yet precise.
Veythar bent space itself, creating corridors for Lucien and the others to strike from impossible angles. Caelthorn and Morwyn manipulated gravity, hurling massive debris with crushing force while keeping allies safe.
Seliora's threads linked voids, amplifying the effects of combined attacks. Vaeltherion turned elements into living extensions of the team, slicing and igniting the landscape. Iralith anticipated the Outer God's intent, keeping every member one step ahead.
Lucien's White Void surged outward, binding the individual attacks into a single, overwhelming force. Every strike was magnified, every maneuver coordinated perfectly.
The Outer God staggered, a first for a being older than creation.
Archon's gifts unlocked latent potential. Kairo created temporal duplicates, allowing simultaneous strikes from multiple positions. Ashveil's shadows gained autonomy, attacking and defending without direction. Zarynth's chaos void became precise yet destructive, shredding reality around the god's form.
Lucien felt the source of the White stirring within him, whispering of power far beyond what he had wielded. He realized the threads of the White not only linked the twelve—they connected to the very flow of the universe. Every strike, every defensive maneuver, every projection of void energy was amplified exponentially.
The Outer God's attacks, once unstoppable, now collided with synchronized void manipulation. Time, space, gravity, shadow, chaos, elements, and threads merged into a single coordinated assault. Mountains crumbled under their combined force, rivers evaporated, and the skies became a canvas for void and energy.
Testing Limits
The twelve smiled in unison. Not out of arrogance, but exhilaration. The battlefield became a stage, their movements a cinematic choreography of martial mastery and void power.
Lucien leaped, pivoting in midair as his White expanded, distorting reality around his fists. Kairo struck alongside him, temporal clones landing attacks before the Outer God could react. Ashveil's shadows formed blades, slicing through energy constructs while Zarynth destabilized the god's form with chaotic precision.
Gravity twisted violently under Caelthorn and Morwyn, tossing debris and energy like marionettes. Seliora, Vaeltherion, and Iralith moved as a trio, combining threads, elements, and psychic resonance to anticipate and counter every response.
The Outer God staggered again—massive, ancient, yet faltering under the combined, fully awakened might of twelve synchronized void masters.
Just as the twelve prepared to deliver a crushing final blow, the White pulsed violently from Lucien. The battlefield warped, stars flickered, and a hidden current beneath the White surged forward, far stronger than anything they had felt.
Lucien's eyes widened.
"It's… it's the source itself… it's awakening."
The Outer God froze mid-attack, sensing the pulse. Even the voids themselves trembled in response.
And the narrator whispered over the scene:
The first move has been made, but the game is far from over. The true current—the origin of all voids—has awakened. What happens next will decide not just their fate, but the fate of existence itself.
The battlefield held its breath. The twelve stood ready, fully awakened, facing a cosmic threat they had never truly comprehended—one older and more powerful than even the Outer God, waiting beyond the White.