"What is that?" Ezmelral asked, her voice a whisper laced with awe and unease, staring at the colossal eyelid in the massive portal, its gaze like an abyss staring back.
Raiking's tone was grave, his crimson eyes reflecting the void's hungry gleam. "A Void General."
Ezmelral's mind raced back to the military ranks of her home on Exar—generals positioned just below the King and Queen, symbols of strategic might. But status didn't always equate to power; history was riddled with generals who ascended to the pinnacle of strength, outshining monarchs who wielded scepters rather than swords. Out loud, she pressed, "Are they the strongest in the Void Realm?"
Raiking's head moved in a slow, deliberate shake. "No," he said quietly. "Their ruler sits alone at the top—unchallenged. The sovereign of that forsaken domain."
Ezmelral's brow furrowed, curiosity and unease tangling like twin threads in her chest. "How strong are they… exactly?"
Raiking's crimson eyes narrowed, reflecting the faint shimmer of the battlefield below. "Strong enough," he said, voice low and grave, "that most Entities here couldn't slay even a single Void General."
The weight of his words sank like a stone between them, the unspoken truth clear—what stood on that field was no mere opponent, but a glimpse into the kind of nightmare that humbled gods.
She glanced back at Solomon, still locked in his meditative trance. "If they're that powerful... how can he control them? Without being... swallowed?"
Raiking's gaze didn't waver from the ring. "Solomon is the wisest Entity to ever exist. Greater mental capacity grants greater control—it's not brute force, but the depth of understanding that bends the Void to his will."
Ezmelral absorbed it, her earlier wish for Aserenity's victory now clouded with doubt. He's commanding generals from a realm that terrifies even Entities... She clenched her fist, nails digging into her palm, and refocused on the battle, determination hardening her resolve to learn from every clash.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the eye pulsed—once. The air thickened, vibrating with a low hum that crawled under the skin. Then space itself rippled, a tremor passing through the arena like the void's awakening hunger.
A beam of condensed darkness tore downward, wider than mountains, cleaving the air in a shriek of bending reality. The red sea below shuddered, the air screamed, and Aserenity's leaf colossus braced as the arena descended back toward the riverbed before steadying itself.
Aserenity slowly opened her arms wide, the leaves composing her massive form waving back and forth like a violent wind sweeping across a boundless field, building momentum in rhythmic undulations. Then, with colossal force, she brought her arms together—slamming her palms in a thunderous clap that unleashed a massive shockwave, rippling outward like a gale-born tsunami. Hundreds of leaves rushed up her arms in a verdant surge, gusting forward toward the incoming beam of the Void General's wrath, a wall of nature's fury hurtling to meet the abyss.
Then, in a blur that defied sight, Ezmelral's lookalike materialized between the two cataclysmic forces—her form a streak of white robe and crimson mark, appearing so suddenly that gasps rippled through the arena like a shockwave. Not just her arrival, but her speed—a velocity that bent the air itself, leaving afterimages in her wake—left everyone stunned, jaws slack and eyes wide.
"Remarkable," murmured a spectator from another planet, its voice a resonant echo that carried across the parted sea, rippling through the crowd like a stone skipped over water.
Even those with eyes sealed in deep meditation peeled them open, drawn by the shift in the air's energy—a subtle pulse of awe and curiosity that hummed through the arena like an unspoken invocation. "Truly deserving to be the GodKing's disciple," another whispered, the words spreading like wildfire through the throng, igniting murmurs of envy and reverence in equal measure.
Meanwhile, in Ezmelral's lookalike's mind, as she stared at the void beam hurtling toward her—dark energy coiling like a serpent ready to devour—she closed her eyes, the world narrowing to a time mere moments ago, just before she leaped into action.
---
Ezmelral's lookalike stared at the Giant Eye emerging from the Void Realm, its dark energy coiling like a serpent poised to devour. As a Cosmic Level wielder, she could sense the attack's raw capabilities—the unrelenting void that promised not just defeat, but utter annihilation.
"The void energy pouring from that creature... will she..." she murmured, her voice laced with dread.
"She will die," the GodKing's voice echoed in her ears, cold and matter-of-fact, devoid of mourning or remorse—as if pronouncing the fall of a leaf in autumn.
She must know it too, Ezmelral's lookalike thought, her gaze shifting to Aserenity's Elders in the spectator seats. Some faces were etched with worry, brows furrowed in silent agony; others trembled with fear, hands clenched in futile restraint; a few leaned forward as if aching to intervene, their bodies taut with the impulse to leap into the fray.
Yet...
"Why does she not surrender?" she asked the GodKing, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
"She may believe she represents her people," he replied. "An honorable death speaks more of her kind than retreat ever could."
She nodded slowly, then glanced back at the Elders. "Then why don't they intervene? They clearly want to."
The GodKing's tone remained unmoved. "In my presence, who dares act without my lead?"
The truth struck cold and clear: even Aserenity's Elders—and the neutral Entities—kept glancing toward the GodKing's throne, measuring the risk, calculating the cost. His inaction wasn't indifference; it was a cage, forged without effort, binding them in silent obedience.Unless someone shattered the bars...
She's not evil, she thought, her resolve hardening. She doesn't deserve death as spectacle.
To grasp the full picture, she turned to the GodKing. "Why does Solomon want to kill her? With his strength and wisdom, was death the only path?"
The GodKing regarded her quietly, his helmeted gaze unblinking, as if dissecting her soul. "He is being wise," he said, his tone measured. "Just that his wisdom is directed not to her... but to his own kin, the Entities."
Confusion clouded Ezmelral's lookalike's face, her brow furrowing as she searched for understanding. The GodKing noticed and elaborated, his voice a low rumble that filled the arena's hush. "Earlier in the match, Aserenity wounded Solomon—a pure-blooded Entity—despite wielding no Essence of her own."
The lookalike fell silent, the truth sinking in. She knew that fierce loyalty all too well; if anyone dared harm her master, she'd cut them down without a second thought, mercy be damned. In that instant, she grasped Solomon's mentality—the cold calculus of protection, where threats were nipped before they bloomed.
However...
"You taught me to never harm the innocent," she said aloud, her voice steady but laced with conflict. "That our duty is to purge the corrupted, the evil. If we let an innocent die right before our eyes... are we not just as guilty?"
Beneath his helmet, the GodKing smiled—a rare, hidden curve of approval she would never see. Out loud, he replied, "Right now, you judge her character by what you see and know. But what if, in the future, she's granted Essence? Will her humble display from today remain unchanged?"
Ezmelral's lookalike paused, her mind flashing to the history scrolls she'd devoured—tales of the humble rising to power, only to bare fangs sharper than any beast, tyranny blooming where humility once grew. The pattern was undeniable, a cycle as old as ambition itself.
"So... there's no hope for her?" she asked, her voice soft, almost pleading.
He said nothing at first, the silence heavy as judgment. Then: "If you want to save her… you can."
Surprise widened her eyes as she turned fully to face him, hope flickering like a spark in the dark.
"But you will bear the responsibility," he finished, his words heavy as fate's decree.
She understood—the weight of it all: watching, waiting, ready to strike if corruption took root. "Then," she replied, her voice dropping to a deadly, intimate calm, "if they fall... I will be there to end them."
He cast a quick look at Ezmelral's lookalike. The conviction in her eyes burned fierce and unshakeable.
"Then do as you will," he answered simply.
Before she could move, a flicker of doubt crossed her face—a heartbeat of hesitation. "And the Elders? The rules? If I intervene... will I bring trouble on you?"
"The strong make the rules," he replied, his voice a steady anchor. "And I stand behind you."
His reassurance struck like a spark to dry tinder. In the next heartbeat, she was gone—her white-robed form slicing through the air, reappearing between the cataclysmic forces as if defying destiny itself.