Solomon, acutely aware of the GodKing's disciple's blinding speed, reacted first—his lips moving in a low, guttural chant, the ancient language of the Void spilling forth like a dark incantation, each syllable resonating with a pulse that warped the air around him.
Ezmelral's lookalike glanced toward the GodKing, high on his throne, and received a subtle nod—permission and trust conveyed in a single motion. She turned back to Solomon, her expression calm but focused, allowing him to weave his magic as two massive portals began to form behind him, their edges interconnecting with a sinister hum, the void within swirling like hungry maws.
Her mind drifted to the night before the tournament—a memory surfacing like a quiet tide. She had wandered the corridors of the Great Temple, her footsteps echoing off ancient stone, until she reached the main hall's grand doors. Pushing them open, she stepped inside to find the GodKing lounging casually atop his throne, his head resting on a knuckle, his armored form exuding a relaxed yet commanding presence.
She approached and knelt, her head bowed. "Master."
He inclined his helmet, a slight but acknowledging tilt. "Report."
"The current ruler, Thornborne's mother, has accepted our terms."
A slow, satisfied nod was his only reply, the silence itself affirming the significance of her success.
She ventured further, her voice laced with caution. "And if Solomon underestimates his opponent? If he holds back the Void General?"
"He will not." The dismissal in his tone was absolute. "Driven by a hunger for a throne, men like Solomon and his father will always overreach. Their ambition is a chain that will pull them into the abyss."
A flicker of personal doubt crossed her features. "My control over Gravitational Essence is still—"
"We have time enough," he stated, his raised hand halting her apology with calm finality.
"Yes, Master." She bowed her head deeper.
"Go and prepare," he commanded, leaning forward with intent. "The groundwork is laid, but the true work begins now."
As she rose and turned, the memory fractured. The chamber dissolved; the roar of the arena rushed in. Around the ring, spectators leaned forward as Solomon's portals stabilised—dark rims pulsing with violent energy, the air thick with ozone and the promise of annihilation.
Solomon lifted his hands for the final incantation. A hush rippled through the stands as, on the arena floor, Ezmelral's lookalike raised her leg—the motion unmistakable, a mirror of the GodKing's Gravitation.
Realisation flashed across the Eldest Elder—the Keeper of Balance, Time, and Fate—who cut a glance to the GodKing's throne, then back to the ring.
The stomp landed. Stone boomed. Air congealed as gravity spiked, space bowing around her. Solomon buckled; his spine arched, palms braced hard to keep his face from meeting the stone. Teeth bared, muscles straining, sweat needled his brow as the invisible weight pressed him toward the floor.
Ezmelral's lookalike didn't wait. Her gaze snapped to the GodKing's throne—empty now, a single spark of starlight the only sign he had moved. That was the signal. She flooded her limbs with Air Essence and blurred forward—one razor gust across the arena—vanishing through the still-open Void portal.
The world inverted. Light collapsed into itself, and in the next instant, silence—vast, suffocating silence.
Ezmelral's lookalike landed beside the GodKing, her boots striking what seemed like stone but pulsed beneath her feet like a living rune. The ground glowed faintly—an obsidian disc carved with twisting sigils that writhed in slow, alien motion. Wisps of dark vapor coiled upward from its seams, drifting into an endless expanse of shadow.
Around them, shapes began to form—beings of the Void. Each one hung above its summoning circle, their forms half-real, half-dream. Black scales shimmered with a sickly violet sheen, their bodies tapering into smoke as if the realm itself refused to let them fully exist. Eyes—too many to count—opened and blinked in unison across their chests, each pupil vertical and unblinking, glimmering with cold intelligence.
Bladed fragments hovered beside them, orbiting like moons around a dying world. Every motion left trails of corrupted light in their wake. One creature, crowned with branching horns that bled faint amethyst light, turned toward them—its gaze a ripple of ancient hunger.
"So this is the Void Realm…" Ezmelral's lookalike murmured.
But before the GodKing could reply, the silence broke. The Void beings' tongues slithered in unison, whispering through the dark:
"An Entity… an Entity…"
Their many eyes dilated, glowing brighter by the breath. Then, as if triggered by instinct, countless eyes flared—charging with corrosive power.
In the next instant, the void erupted. Hundreds of beams lanced through the dark, converging on the two intruders.
---
Meanwhile, outside the Void Realm, Ezmelral's voice cut through the tension. "Where are they?"
Not just her—the Eldest Elder also raised his voice, demanding answers as he struck forward, his fist bouncing off the gravitational field that held his son captive. The shockwave rolled across the coliseum.
"Enough of this!" he roared—then tore open a Void Portal of his own, forcing it into existence through sheer Essence and will, seeking to shatter the defense by brute force.
Then, as if responding to their fury, the Keeper of Time and Fate stepped forward. With a calm wave of her hand, she brushed her palm across the air—her Essence manifesting as golden sand that spiraled upward, expanding into a shimmering gateway.
Within it, they saw the GodKing and his disciple—standing together in a realm of shifting shadow, surrounded by a storm of Void beams screaming toward them.
The GodKing raised his left arm, his palm facing the incoming blasts with an air of unshakable command, his star-forged armor gleaming under the arena's light. The Book of Revesis responded instantly, materializing above his shoulder with a faint hum, gliding forward as its pages fluttered open—past the first page, Eden's Root, past the second, The Voice of Eve, settling on the third.
Cain's Wrath.
As if drawn by an irresistible force, the beams lancing toward them were swallowed into the glowing pages of the Book of Revesis, their purple-black fury vanishing with a low, resonant whoosh that silenced the void's chaos. For a heartbeat, an eerie stillness gripped the realm—time itself seeming to pause, the air thick with anticipation.
Then, from the tome, several identical beams lashed out—reborn with ferocious speed and amplified strength, their dark energy surging forth like vengeful spirits unleashed. Each pulse was sharper, more potent than the originals, cutting through the inky expanse with ruthless precision.
Outside the Void Realm, spectators watched in wide-eyed amazement through the Keeper of Time and Fate's shimmering gateway, the scene unfolding like a divine spectacle. The beams blitzed across the void, annihilating Void beings in rapid succession—shrieks of ethereal agony echoing as shadowy forms disintegrated, their scales and blades crumbling into nothingness under their own redirected wrath.
"The Book of Revesis," a spectator breathed, the name itself a prayer as they watched the golden portal. "It is real."
"He didn't just block their attack," another said, voice thick with awe. "He turned their own wrath into their executioner. Now that is why he wears the crown."
In a final, dazzling display, the last Void entity dissolved, consumed by the very power it had unleashed. The crowd could only watch in stunned silence, the arena humming with the aftermath of a perfect, poetic justice.