Chapter 93 – "Orvyn, the Mom Who Scares Gods"
The silence after the breach was heavy, like the stillness before a storm.
The three Guardians stood motionless, their black eye fixed on Elyon. Their presence drained the color from the air, as if someone had erased the hues.
Elyon stared them down.
— Even if you threaten to destroy the world, I won't go with you.
One of the Guardians tilted its head, its voice scraping like metal on stone.
— If you refuse, we will exterminate your friends. Everyone you tremble for. Everyone you love.
Elyon smirked — arrogant, sly.
— Are you even capable of exterminating them?
A low growl echoed from beneath the cloaks. One stepped forward, threatening.
— We are the Guardians of the Void. We have shattered worlds and kings. Your pride is… quaint.
Valen whispered to Zarion:
— He's changed, but he still drops trash talk like it's currency.
Zarion:
— Same unbearable charm.
Liora stepped forward, fists clenched. Her voice cracked like a blade:
— You dare threaten my son, in front of me?
The Guardian hissed:
— Your son? Stop lying. His father fragmented his fragmented child and took his own life. The final will of the Ancient Human King was clear: Elyon shall rule Creation.
Silence.
You could've heard a dust mote sneeze.
Liora didn't flinch. She raised her hand slowly — not to plead, but to summon.
One of the Guardians was pulled forward like a puppet on an invisible string, levitating before her.
— And who told you his father was dead? she said, in a voice that was no longer just Liora's.
The room tightened. The three Guardians exchanged a nervous laugh, like someone had told a joke too old to be funny. One of them scoffed:
— Humans are deranged… Usurping the name of the Ancient Human King? Ridiculous.
Elyon stepped forward, calm.
— And yet… she's right. She's my mother.
The laughter died. The cloaks shivered.
Liora inhaled. Her silhouette rippled; her cape, her posture, the rhythm of her breath — all shifted like a mask being removed. The room held its breath.
In a single beat, Liora was no longer Liora: she rose, expanded, transformed into something older, vaster. Her features sharpened, her voice deepened with centuries.
Where the commander once stood, now stood Orvyn — sovereign, ancient, parent of another era.
The two Guardians in the back felt something ancestral call to them. They buckled. Without thinking, they dropped to their knees, compelled by a will not their own.
Orvyn — Liora — held the central Guardian aloft, now dangling like a marionette with taut strings.
Her voice rolled through the room, heavy and imperial:
— First, you threaten my son.
— Second, you ruin the banquet I prepared for our reunion.
— Third, you defy my orders — and fourth, you try to force my son to do what he does not wish.
— For all of this… you deserve to be erased.
The floating Guardian stammered, fear suddenly clear in its voice:
— Your Grace… forgive us. We were unaware. We… misread the signs.
Zarion, arms crossed, murmured to Valen:
— Since when do they get polite all of a sudden? It's unsettling.
Valen exhaled:
— She traumatized them in under three seconds. That's all.
Orvyn dropped the Guardian with a flick. The other two remained kneeling, their heads touching the floor with a dull thud, as if reality reminded them they weren't in charge here.
The Guardians whispered in unison, voices cracked:
— Thank you, Lord. For your mercy.
Orvyn frowned, then with a sound that was part restrained fury, part parental sigh:
— Leave. I don't want to see you on my doorstep again.
A wave of void pushed the cloaks back. The three figures retreated, their emptiness folding in on itself like a wiped stain. They vanished in a ripple of dimensions, taking the threat with them… but not the unease.
The great hall took time to recover. Candles flickered; people murmured; hands still trembled. The tension fell like a heavy blanket.
Liora became Liora again, her body returning to familiar form. She placed a hand on her forehead, a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips.
— Well. Shall we… resume the banquet? she said, a little too cheerfully.
Drake, still slack-jawed, muttered:
— Uh… I think we missed a few chapters.
Ethan, eyes wide:
— A few? We missed an entire volume, bro.
Marie shook her head, torn between awe and anxiety:
— Liora… Orvyn… you're really hiding some stuff from us, huh?
Valen, still hungry and unbothered, raised a hand in peace:
— Okay, okay, drama's over. Who emptied the chicken platter? I need it.
Elyon, both relieved and slightly embarrassed by the cosmic parental reveal, approached Liora. He placed a hand on her shoulder, gaze soft.
— Thank you… for that. For showing up. For not forcing me. For… everything.
Liora looked at him, and the hardness that usually kept her sharp cracked — just a little.
— You're not alone, Elyon. Not today. Not as long as I breathe.
The room slowly returned to life: hushed voices, nervous laughter, chairs being pulled back.
The banquet resumed, wrapped in awe and quiet chatter, like everyone had just lived through a myth and now needed to process it over food.
In a corner, Naël whispered:
— Seriously, I want a comic series about Liora-Orvyn. It'd be a hit.
Lya, back to her dark humor, slid out of the floor and replied:
— Yeah, with a spin-off: 1000 Ways to Break a Guardian.
Mini-Elyonna stood proudly on Valen's shoulder, raising her dessert like a trophy:
— Who said my boss was soft? I give her a 10/10 for intimidation.
Valen chuckled:
— Note to self: boss = terrifying; wife = impossible; roommate = negotiable.
Far off, as the party resumed, a faint breath brushed the threshold of HQ — almost imperceptible, like a warning that the void had retreated, but not vanished.
No one really noticed, too busy eating, drinking, laughing, and reclaiming a night that had nearly tipped into disaster.
But Elyon looked at the door one last time, eyes sharp. He knew this reprieve was precious. He also knew the Throne and its jailers never gave up easily.
His smile, this time, was neither arrogant nor sad. Just… resolute.
— Let's keep the party going, he said. And tomorrow, we start fixing what I broke.
Liora nudged him with a fond elbow:
— And you're doing the dishes. No excuses.
Valen called out:
— Hey, it's all good. As long as there's chicken, I can rule an empire.
Laughter. Music. Dishes clinking.
HQ came back to life — louder, wilder, and a little more united than before.
Chapter 94 – "The Banquet of Chaos (and Grilled Crabs)"
HQ still echoed with laughter and music. The tables overflowed with food, candles danced to the rhythm of conversation, and the tension from past battles seemed to have dissolved into bursts of joy.
Liora, now fully human again, sat at the head table with a glass of wine in hand.
— I don't remember your banquets being this loud, she said, mildly amused.
Valen, chewing on a chicken leg, replied with his mouth full:
— It's not loud, it's lively.
Elyon, seated nearby, sighed:
— If that's your definition of "lively," I can't imagine what you're like sober.
Zarion, laughing, raised his cup:
— Sober? In this team? Keep dreaming, little prince.
A thunder of laughter erupted around the table. Even Lya cracked a smile while Nova discreetly levitated bottles to refill glasses without standing up.
---
✦ THE BANQUET RETURNS ✦
Arthur and Béatrice, seated side by side (and far too close for everyone's comfort), exchanged glances that could melt stone.
— My sweet Arthur, would you like more divine sauce?
— Only if you're the one pouring it, my celestial light.
Valen leaned toward miniature Elyonna perched on his shoulder:
— I swear… they're worse than lovebirds.
Elyonna raised an eyebrow:
— You're just jealous, old hunter.
— Jealous? Me? No way. I'd rather face an abyssal demon than be someone's "sweetie."
Lya stifled a laugh:
— Yeah, at least the demon talks less.
---
Suddenly, Drake slammed his fist on the table:
— Silence! Before everyone gets drunk, I'd like to raise a toast to Elyon and his mother!
Everyone raised their cups:
— To Liora! To Elyon!
Liora smiled, a little moved despite herself. Elyon looked away, embarrassed by the attention.
— Thank you… he said simply.
Then added with a sly smile:
— But I'd rather not be toasted every time I trigger a family cataclysm.
Naël burst out laughing:
— Too late! It's tradition now!
---
✦ CULINARY INCIDENT ✦
Just as things seemed peaceful, a scream rang out from the kitchen:
— THE CRABS HAVE COME TO LIFE!
Everyone froze.
Valen slowly set down his fork:
— Wait… what?
A massive divine sea crab burst through the kitchen door, wielding a ladle like a weapon.
Nova leapt onto the table:
— I KNEW IT! Those crustaceans had a shady aura!
Zarion, laughing, grabbed his sword:
— Well then… round two!
The hunters sprang into action: Lya cast a containment spell, Valen flipped a table for cover, and Béatrice elegantly vaporized the crab with a beam of light.
When the dust settled, Arthur exclaimed:
— Béatrice! My sun! Even crustaceans melt under your radiance!
Liora sighed:
— I didn't fight the Guardians of the Void just to end up covered in divine mayonnaise…
Elyon, stoic, wiped a crab leg off his shoulder:
— Well. That's what I call a balanced banquet.
---
✦ AFTER THE STORM ✦
Once the chaos subsided, the survivors of the "sacred crab battle" returned to their seats, clothes disheveled but smiles intact.
Marie served the final dish — the real dessert this time — while Valen tidied up:
— I think we just invented a new sport, guys: culinary hunting.
Naël raised a hand:
— Yeah, but no Liora on the judging panel, please. She turns guests into dust at the slightest provocation.
Liora shot him a dark look, then laughed:
— Maybe. But at least no one dares serve crab again.
Elyon, amused, spoke up:
— If today's banquet was meant to celebrate peace… I don't want to imagine the one for war.
Valen slapped his shoulder:
— That day, we'll need a battlefield, not a dining hall.
---
As night deepened, the candles dimmed one by one.
Laughter softened, voices lowered.
Liora looked around the table — at her friends, her son — and sighed with genuine contentment.
For the first time in ages, she felt… at peace.
But far away, beyond HQ's walls, a pale glow crossed the sky.
A thin, silent shadow watched the scene through layered dimensions.
A voice whispered into the void:
— The king of the ancient humans has resurfaced… the cycle begins again.
And without a sound, the shadow vanished.
---
Valen (half-asleep, plate in hand):
— Someone wake me when the next banquet starts.
Zarion:
— Only if you promise not to fight the food.
Elyon:
— Too late. That's already his signature move.
Chapter 95 – "The Shadow Behind the Feast"
Dawn filtered gently through the windows of HQ.
The banquet hall was now a culinary battlefield: overturned tables, stained tablecloths, and a poor grilled crab dangling from the chandelier like a war trophy.
Valen snored, slumped in a chair, still clutching a chicken leg.
Zarion lay on his back, head in an empty salad bowl.
Lya, intangible, had chosen to sleep half-submerged in the floor — literally.
Liora entered the room, impeccably dressed, as if she hadn't taken part in the party at all.
— Divine larvae, she muttered.
She snapped her fingers.
A magical wave swept through the room.
Valen jolted awake.
— WHAT?! Who's attacking?! Where's the crab?!
— The only crab here is you when you sleep, grumbled Zarion.
Elyon, already awake, stood by the window, arms crossed. His gaze was serious, almost troubled.
— Someone was watching us last night.
Everyone froze. Even Naël, still half-asleep, lifted his head.
— Watching? What do you mean? asked Nova.
— A presence. Subtle. Powerful. Not human. Not a Guardian either. Something ancient.
Silence fell.
Liora frowned.
— Describe it.
— A shadow. No clear form. But… it bore a seal. The same as the Broken Throne.
Lya fully materialized.
— Wait… The Broken Throne? From the Ancient Kingdoms? The symbol of Inverted Judgment?
Elyon nodded.
— Exactly. And if I'm right… that seal can only belong to one being.
Valen groaned.
— Please don't say it's another secret brother or a resurrected dad. We've hit our family trauma quota.
Liora rolled her eyes.
— Unfortunately, it's not that simple.
She snapped her fingers, conjuring a glowing projection: a faceless figure cloaked in black, holding a cracked scepter.
— This being, she said, is called Ahr'Vail. The Guardian of the Void. Once advisor to the King of the Ancient Humans.
Arthur frowned.
— So… your former advisor?
— In a way, she replied. But he betrayed the kingdom before the end. He sought to claim the divine consciousness of Chaos. The very one I sealed… in my son.
All eyes turned to Elyon.
He gave a nervous little smile.
— Great. So now I'm literally the battery of an immortal psychopath.
Nova sighed.
— Wow. Your life's plotline is next-level.
Lya raised a hand.
— So? He's watching us — what does he want?
Elyon turned.
— What he wants? For me to reclaim the throne. For him.
---
✦ THE HUNTERS' COUNCIL ✦
Later in the meeting room, the whole group had gathered around the large table.
Drake, Marie, and Ethan had been summoned as well.
Drake leaned on his elbows.
— If that thing's spying on us, it already knows Elyon's here. And that we're all vulnerable after the portal battle.
— Vulnerable? Speak for yourself, old man, said Valor. I'm still ready to vaporize a giant crab if needed.
Naël raised an eyebrow.
— You're always ready to vaporize something.
Liora spoke again.
— What you need to understand is that this being never acts directly. He infiltrates dreams, memories, desires. He corrupts what's already cracked.
Béatrice crossed her arms.
— So he could manipulate someone here?
A heavy silence fell.
Everyone looked around.
Zarion muttered:
— I can already tell it's not me. I've got too few neurons to be manipulated.
— True, confirmed Valen, patting his shoulder.
— Thanks, bro. I think.
---
✦ ELYON AND THE CHOICE ✦
Later, alone in the corridor, Elyon stared at his reflection in a window.
His gray eyes looked heavier, almost dim.
— The Broken Throne…
He closed his eyes.
Whispers echoed in his mind.
> "Return to your place, heir of the Void…"
> "You cannot escape your essence…"
He punched the wall.
— Shut up!
The voice stopped.
Behind him, Liora appeared.
— You still hear the echoes, don't you?
— Always. They never leave me.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
— Then learn to answer them. Not as an heir… but as Elyon.
He looked at her, a little surprised.
Then a faint smile formed on his lips.
— Alright, Mom.
---
✦ THE FINAL GLIMMER ✦
Meanwhile, beyond HQ, atop a shadow-drenched mountain, a figure watched the sky.
Its cracked scepter glowed with a pale light.
> — The son of chaos… awakened, but still unstable.
The seal will close around him… or the world will collapse with him.
The shadow raised its hand, tracing a symbol in the air.
In the distance, fragments of stars crumbled like ash.
> — Prepare yourselves, it whispered.
The Cycle of Judgment begins again.
---
Valen (off-screen, from HQ):
— Did someone break the magic ceiling again or is the sky just throwing a tantrum?
Zarion:
— Maybe both.
Nova:
— You know what? I'm going to sleep before the next apocalypse starts.
Chapter 96 – "The Call of the Void"
Night had settled over the HQ.
Not a peaceful night — a vibrating one, as if the sky itself was holding its breath.
Valen lay on the roof, casually chewing an apple while staring at the stars.
— Well, I was thinking maybe, for once, we'd actually get a quiet evening…
Mini-Elyonna, sitting on his shoulder, sighed:
— You say that every time. And every time, something explodes.
— Yeah but this time—
BOOOOM.
— There you go, Elyonna sighed. You summoned it again.
A shockwave ripped through the sky, splitting the clouds in two.
The HQ alarms immediately blared.
Lya burst through a wall like a panicked specter.
— VALEN! Want to guess what just happened?!
— Let me guess: the sky decided to kill itself?
— WORSE! A dimensional rift just opened right above HQ!
Zarion appeared next, eyes blazing.
— And this time, it's not a normal portal. It's pure Void.
---
Inside the HQ — Command Room
Liora stood before the main screen, arms crossed, surrounded by unstable holograms. The data flickered, unreadable.
— This isn't an invasion portal… murmured Nova.
— Then what is it? Beatrice asked.
— A signal. Someone is calling us from the Void.
Arthur frowned.
— Wait… "us" or "Elyon"?
The screen flashed. Ancient symbols appeared, slowly rotating. A deep voice flowed out, resonant, almost gentle:
> — "Heir of Chaos… the cycle awaits you. Return."
Elyon entered, wrapped in a faint grey glow. His eyes locked onto the symbols.
— It's him.
— Ahr'Vail? Liora whispered.
— No. Someone older. Someone who remembers my first birth, Elyon said coldly.
Valen, mid-drink, choked.
— First birth?! Bro, how many DLCs does your life have?!
Lya: — Shut up, this is NOT the moment for your black-market humor!
---
The Calling
The voice returned, more insistent:
> — "The Broken Throne calls for its heir.
Chaos sleeps… and the world cracks."
Suddenly, Elyon was lifted off the ground. A black light burst from his chest.
— ELYON!! Liora screamed.
She tried to grab him, but the energy burned her hand. Instinctively she used telekinesis to hold her son — pulling him almost violently away from the Void's pull. Nova activated her gravitational field; Valor projected chains of energy around Elyon; Naël lunged forward, ready to rip his friend out of reality. Nothing stopped the force clutching his heart.
Beatrice yelled:
— He's being dragged into the Void!
Arthur leapt, grabbed Elyon's hand with all his strength.
— No way you're leaving without your double-bladed sword, man!
Elyon's voice came out calm — too calm, like a farewell:
— Tell them… I'll be back soon.
And he vanished.
Silence fell — heavier than any nightmare.
Valen looked around, jaw slack.
— … Someone explain to me why every time we celebrate something, someone gets sucked into a dead dimension?
— Because we're cursed, bro, said Zarion.
— No, because the author loves suffering, Lya added.
— Shh, you're characters in the story, idiots, snapped mini-Elyonna.
---
In the Void
Elyon opened his eyes in a space without up or down — an infinite grey echoing his thoughts in distorted whispers.
A colossal silhouette formed before him: wrapped in broken chains, ancient, as self-evident as a mountain.
> — "Welcome, child of Chaos."
— Who… are you? Elyon asked.
— "I am the Forgotten Fragment of the Throne.
The one your father sacrificed to create you."
The words froze Elyon.
Had his father… truly sacrificed himself?
> — "Choose: restore the Throne…
or destroy it forever."
---
Back at HQ — The Decision
Liora stood before the unstable rift, fists clenched.
— I'm going after him.
— You can't! Nova protested. Even you would be devoured by the Void!
Liora answered, voice sharp: — I don't have a choice.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Slowly, she closed her eyes. Her silhouette flickered. Her coat fell, posture changing; the Liora they knew shifted. Muscles hardened, shoulders broadened, long black hair cascading over an ancient dark kimono — Orvyn's old form resurfaced. Red eyes burned with controlled rage.
— Valen, with me. Zarion. Naël.
Everyone else: stay and defend the HQ if another threat comes. Understood? Orvyn's voice commanded even dust.
Valen jumped as if he'd heard "free feast."
— Count me in. We're bringing back the Chaos Prince.
Zarion nodded, already armored. Naël frowned but tightened his grip on his blade.
Lya growled: — If we survive, I'm asking for a salary.
Elyonna: — And I want a good meal.
Arthur: — And I want… Beatrice's eternal respect.
Beatrice: — Keep dreaming, sunshine.
Orvyn placed a hand on the rift. It pulsed like an open wound — but under his palm, it hesitated, as if unsure whether to bite.
— Prepare yourselves, he said.
We enter the Void.
Then, in perfect coordination, Orvyn plunged forward. Valen and Zarion followed. Naël paused, stared at the rift, then dove in. Behind them, Nova, Lya and Valor tightened defenses; Elyonna perched on Valen's shoulder, tiny but furious:
— You better come back, or I roast you myself.
---
Entry — Sensations and Humor
The passage was anything but a simple step. The Void was no place for walking: it pulled, twisted, devoured. Orvyn guided their bodies with a presence like a surrounding mantle.
Valen felt like he was falling, floating, then like his stomach flipped inside out. He spat his apple into the space — which bounced back on loop, doing three flips before landing miserably on Zarion's head.
— Seriously? Zarion groaned.
— I thought it would look dramatic, Valen replied.
Echo-shadows drifted around them, repeating voices — laughter, weeping, old reprimands.
Naël clenched his teeth:
— I hear my mother-in-law yelling that I burned the bread.
Zarion: — You hear that now? Yeah, we're definitely not staying serious even one minute.
Orvyn extended his hand: a cord of energy formed, cold and solid. They all grabbed it.
— Hold on to this, Orvyn ordered. It shields you from mental dissipation.
They moved forward.
Around them floated remnants of forgotten kingdoms: windows without houses, doors opening to empty worlds, horses grazing on air. Sometimes silhouettes approached, curious — then vanished. No direct hostility yet. Just the sensation of being watched… weighed.
---
First Contact
In the distance, light condensed. A shape rose from the grey floor: a column of ashes molding into a face, hands, voice. Not Ahr'Vail — something like the memory of a king.
The Fragment of the Throne spoke again, closer now:
> — "Elyon… you have fled long enough.
Surrender to the Throne."
Orvyn lifted his hand; the cord vibrated.
Valen squinted.
— Pretty sure "surrender" isn't in the hero manual.
Zarion drew his blade. Naël leaned forward, ready to strike.
Suddenly, a black burst shot from the ground — a shadowy hand reaching for them. It hit Orvyn's cord and exploded into fading star-like sparks. The warning was clear: the Void wasn't going to let them proceed peacefully.
Orvyn murmured an ancient incantation. A protective circle rose around them, trembling like a rain-rippled lake.
— We move forward, he said. Stay close. If you lose footing, tie yourselves to me.
Valen, full of bravery as always:
— No promises, but I'll try not to turn into dimensional confetti.
Elyonna, in the most serious tone she could muster:
— Try, at least for my dignity.
---
Final Vision — Before the Heart of the Void
They advanced past ruins of possibilities and whispers of forgotten beings.
In the center of the grey stood a clearer shape: a black throne, cracked, resting on a base of shadows. Broken chains floated around it like halos. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
A distant, heavy voice drifted:
> — Soon… everything will begin again.
— Good, Orvyn muttered. Good. Then let me be the one who settles the bill.
Valen gripped the cord tighter.
Zarion stepped forward, eyes narrowed.
Naël spat a curse that, in the Void, sounded like a vow.
— If we die, someone pick up my apple, Valen muttered.
— I'll take care of it, Zarion replied with no emotion.
They approached the cracked throne — and as their steps (or rather their link to the cord) neared it, a whisper rippled through all matter around them:
> — Elyon… choose.
And the Void seemed to wait for his answer.