Year 1: Crowned King
The void rattled with impacts. A body spun through the dark, helpless against the pull of a nearby world. He struck the surface hard, stone cracking, dust rolling outward in violent waves.
From the crater’s center, a man of royalty rose. His breath came heavy, his body weak from the fall, but his stance was unbroken. Pale skin caught the dim light, gray fingerless gloves clenching into fists. A deep purple cape dragged behind him, tattered at the edges, but still a king’s mantle. He wore no armor, no crown—only the scars across his bare chest, a record of the battles he had survived.
Exhaustion pressed against his shoulders, but resolve held him steady. A king did not stay down.
Across the wasteland, the figure who had cast him here watched silently. Shadows bled from its form, drifting upward like smoke, eyes hidden but heavy with intent.
He straightened, his aura sparking to life. Dark energy wrapped around his frame, heatless but heavy, stirring the cape at his back. He rolled his shoulders once, meeting the figure’s presence with his own.
“I won’t kneel,” The man said under his breath.
The enemy stepped forward. The world seemed to tremble with each motion. Crimson matched it, boot meeting stone, with the sound of a drumbeat.
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THUMP.
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The heavy oak doors slammed open with a thunderous crack. Crimson’s gaze shifted slightly, the dark glow of his eyes catching movement in the corner. Standing there was Ragna—panting, clutching at the frame, his white lab coat torn and marked with soot as though he had sprinted through hell itself. His face was pale with panic.
“Sir—where have you been?!” Ragna barked, his voice trembling but sharp.
Crimson didn’t flinch. His tone was calm, almost annoyed.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXlqRmEDwV8
“I am right here, Ragna. Yelling is unnecessary.”
“Right—yes, forgive me,” Ragna stammered, his voice cracking. He straightened, but his hands were still shaking. “But if you’d hear me out, you’d understand why I—”
Crimson raised a hand, cutting him off. His patience was razor-thin.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuAktp2PhBo
“I am already aware. Why do you think they’re down there?”
He turned, motioning with a slow tilt of his head toward the field below. From the fortress walls, the view stretched across the Shadow Realm’s plains, where his forces had already assumed formation. Rows of soldiers in obsidian armor lined the trenches, their weapons glowing faintly with black fire.
Ragna blinked, startled, before his eyes narrowed.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVRmDwcApah
“You’ve already prepared defenses for the specters…? Good—but sir, that’s not what troubles me.”
That caught Crimson. He pivoted, his expression hardening. “Then what does?”
Ragna’s breath hitched. He wrung his hands as if forcing himself to speak the words.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu460YotJRE
“It’s the Time Council and the Fate Kingdom, sir. Our forces sent to aid them… have returned.”
Crimson’s voice dropped an octave, sharp with dread.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYs1cga6fP8
“What happened?”
Ragna swallowed, his throat dry. “They’re in ruins. Not by chance—these cracks in time aren’t random anymore. They’re… calculated. Someone’s been using them to dismantle our factions one by one. And they’ve made it look like nothing more than cruel fate.”
For the first time in years, Crimson froze. His breath caught. His mind raced to the thought of Team Eclipse—those children in arms, Red’s children. Could they already be…? No. He refused to finish that thought.
His hands trembled slightly at his sides. For a flicker of a second, the mask of the Shadow King cracked, and panic bled through.
“Sir?” Ragna stepped closer, concern in his voice.
Crimson didn’t answer. His thoughts were too loud, his pulse a storm in his ears.
Then—
“Ori!”
The cry snapped him back.
A small round shape waddled into the chamber: a puffball of black and white with stubby little nubs for arms and eyes bright with mischief. Orio. He chirped in his strange, half-nonsense language, bouncing up and down as if mocking Crimson’s despair with cheer.
“Or! Orio! Ori, ori!”
Crimson inhaled deeply, forcing his composure back into place. He knelt, placing a hand on Ori’s head. His voice softened.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3eZEtsDmLf
“Thank you, Orio. I… lost myself for a moment.”
“Orio!” the puffball responded proudly, as if to say that’s better.
Orio—better known as Ori—was a mystery even to itself. One day, it simply… appeared in the Shadow Realm. No one knew from where, or why, only that the little puffball had stumbled into a kingdom that had no place for such oddities.
Its noises were strange and repetitive, little bursts of sound that most dismissed as nonsense. To the soldiers, it was nothing more than a strange pet, like a dog yapping at shadows. But Crimson and Ragna noticed something others didn’t: the cadence, the rhythm. The so-called “nonsense” wasn’t random at all—it was patterned, deliberate. A language.
Ragna, ever the scientist, immediately suggested compiling the data into a translator. He wanted machinery, graphs, equations. But Crimson refused. He insisted that if this being was to be understood, it should not be reduced to wires and numbers. It deserved respect. So instead, Crimson and Ragna devoted themselves to the difficult path: learning Ori’s language the traditional way, piece by piece, mistake by mistake.
It was a process filled with frustration and laughter, of long nights spent mimicking sounds until they finally clicked into meaning. Over time, “Orio” became more than just a name—it was the foundation of a language they would come to call Orionese.
And soon, they learned the most important truth of all: for such a small and comical stature, Ori carried staggering power. Enough to level most that stood in their way, enough to stand proudly beside Crimson. Not as a pet. Not as a tool. But as a guardian.
By Crimson’s side, Ori had earned its place—not through fear or force, but through loyalty and strength that no shadow could erase.
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Ori scrambled up the ledge beside Crimson, tiny feet pattering against the black stone. His round body bobbed as he peered into the endless horizon of the Shadow Realm. The puffball’s eyes narrowed—focused. His usual playful energy dimmed into something sharper.
“Or… orio.”
Crimson caught the change immediately. His hand tightened on the battlement’s edge.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3dAvT7q44w
“Shadows, on guard.”
At once, the army below shifted. Blades unsheathed, spears lowered, obsidian shields slammed into the ground. The walls themselves hummed with power as turrets groaned to life, their barrels glowing with coils of condensed shadow-fire.
The sound came next.
A low hum at first—soft, almost soothing—like a lullaby sung at the bottom of the ocean. But then it grew, splitting into dozens of overlapping tones until it became an oppressive drone that clawed at the soldiers’ minds.
Then silence.
And from that silence, the first shapes bled through.
In the distance, massive silhouettes emerged. They were towers of horror—ripped and torn flesh stretched across towering frames of bone. Limbs bent at unnatural angles, ribs jutting through their chests like grotesque armor. They walked as though held together by hatred alone.
Yet they were not the immediate threat.
At their feet surged the tide—armies of specters, shrieking, wailing, their laughter like knives dragged across glass. Shadows twisted into skeletal faces, endless, countless, flooding forward.
Crimson’s command cracked like thunder:9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡloBwXW6Xyz
“Turrets, open fire!”
The fortress erupted.
Turrets howled as they spat barrages of shadow energy into the tide. Each shot exploded into shrieking blasts, tearing through the spectral masses. Spirits burst apart in clouds of smoke and ash, their laughter silenced mid-cackle.
Ori pumped his stubby arms, bouncing excitedly.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwZdNk5dKeX
“Or! Or! Ori, ori!”
Crimson glanced down at him, voice sharp.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPIPU16xxNC
“Don’t laugh yet. Those giants remain. They are still unknown variables.”
Almost on cue, the specters screamed.
A shriek so high, so sharp, it pierced bone and blood alike. Soldiers dropped their weapons to clutch at their ears. Men screamed, collapsing to their knees. Even Ragna staggered, teeth clenched against the sound.
“AHG! That sound—it’s like hell tearing itself open!” Ragna roared, pressing a palm against his head.
“Stay on guard!” Crimson bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Keep firing!”
The turret crews fought to regain their rhythm, struggling against the agony in their skulls. Shot after shot rang out, each blast forcing the specters’ cries to weaken until, finally, silence returned.
But the damage was done.
The towering flesh-giants had begun to move. Slowly, but Surely. Each step dragging them closer to the fortress walls.
“Redirect!” Crimson shouted. “Turrets, the giants—aim for the giants!”
The massive cannons swiveled, unleashing volley after volley into the lumbering monsters. Their blasts staggered them, tearing chunks of flesh loose, but the beasts trudged forward undeterred.
Below, the specter tide surged. The turrets could not handle both.
“Ori,” Crimson said quietly.
The puffball’s eyes locked on him. With a sharp nod, Ori leapt from the ledge, plummeting to the battlefield. He landed in a roll before springing upright, charging fearlessly into the oncoming swarm.
Crimson’s voice boomed across the fortress.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCRx9b4hsTa
“Charge!”
The soldiers erupted, their war cries shaking the very stones as they stormed forward. Blade met shadow. The spear clashed with the spectre. The Shadow Realm erupted into a war zone.
Crimson’s cloak snapped as he leapt from the walls, shadow-fire coiling around his body. His presence alone was enough to rally the men, a dark comet streaking above them. His aura burned so bright against the void, it was as if the shadows themselves bent to his will.
But he never reached the beasts.
A force hit him—sudden, violent—like a storm given form. It slammed him midair, sending him spiraling down into the inner wall of the fortress. The stone cracked, the impact shaking the tower. Soldiers cried out, startled, rushing up the stairs to reload the turrets.
Crimson staggered up from the rubble, dust swirling around him. His jaw tightened.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwHna6BwfnG
“Advance, soldiers. This threat is not yours to face.”
The guards hesitated, but his tone brooked no argument. They rushed on.
From the haze, a figure stepped.
Shadows coiled around it like smoke. Its form was vaguely mortal, but twisted—eyes darker than abyss, a grin stretched across its face as if carved there. It chuckled, a sound that made the air curdle.
Crimson’s voice was low, sharp, a blade hidden in velvet.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhHAyjL30Bk
“Why have you threatened the sanctity of my kingdom?”
The figure tilted its head, grin widening.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsQQLXZ1oh
“What is there to explain… to a dead man, in his forgotten kingdom?”
Crimson lunged.
His hand clamped around the figure’s throat, he crashed down through the wall, slamming it into a park at the courtyard’s center. Water from a pond splashed, mixing with shadow-fire as Crimson forced him deeper, the water boiling around them.
“I have no words for you then,” Crimson hissed, eyes glowing like embers. “Only punishment.”
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“Ragna landed behind him, boots grinding against the stone, his face pale with worry.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMltE2GMbuN
“Sir—”
Crimson cut him off without turning. His voice was firm, commanding.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡodPl7PzRMc
“Those turrets won’t hold off the beasts for long. Go. Assist them. Cut down as many as you can.”
Ragna hesitated, his fists tightening. “What about the ground forces? They’re already straining to hold the line.”
Finally, Crimson glanced over his shoulder, eyes burning with conviction.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMHLsFIB5sG
“Have faith in them, Ragna. They are Shadow soldiers—they were born for this war. And Orio is with them. You know, as well as I do, that puffball won’t let the line break. Trust them. Trust me.”
Ragna exhaled, his worry softening into a determined smile. “Right…”
Before he could say more, a violent burst of energy exploded outward. The shadowy figure slammed into Crimson, both of them propelled skyward in a streak of black and violet light. The impact shook the very walls of the fortress.
“Sir!” Ragna shouted, shielding his eyes against the surge.
Far above, Crimson’s voice roared back, commanding even as it was carried away.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbqQKhsPo0r
“GO, RAGNA!”
The king’s silhouette shrank into the distance, swallowed by the chaos above the capital.
Ragna clenched his jaw, torn between chasing after him and obeying. But duty won out. “I’ll make it worth your trust, Crimson.”
He turned sharply, sprinting back toward the breach. Without hesitation, he hurled himself through the gaping hole in the wall, energy flaring around him like a comet. His body cut through the battlefield air as he aimed himself straight at the towering flesh monstrosities, determination blazing in his chest.
He would finish what Crimson had started.
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Year 1: Puff Ball
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Dashing through battle, darting between armored legs and shadows with his immense speed and small stature, Orio weaved like a bullet through the chaos. The little puffball leapt up, springing from a soldier’s shield, and struck one of the specters square in the face.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡimdIo47amv
“Let’s see if you like this tenfold!” he barked, voice sharp and fiery.
With a flurry that blurred his round form into a storm of strikes, Orio pummeled the creature into the ground. Each blow cracked with spirit energy, reverberating across the broken stone until the specter’s essence unraveled into smoke. The soldiers nearby cheered in relief—this small, strange ally was keeping up with them, blow for blow.
Orio looked skyward, catching his breath. A brilliant purple streak cut across the void above, breaking through the dark expanse. He knew instantly—it was Crimson. His chest swelled.
“Hah! No chance we lose now!” Orio shouted, bouncing in excitement. But before he could bask at the moment, a darker force slammed into Crimson mid-flight, knocking both figures across the skyline. Orio’s cheers died in his throat as he watched them plummet into the outer cities.
The puffball’s instincts screamed to chase after his king, but he froze, trembling. Crimson’s order echoed in his mind: Stay by their side. Orio’s gaze shifted to the battered soldiers around him, some bleeding, some barely standing. His resolve hardened. “If it’s their lives or his… he’dl choose theirs. Every time.” He gritted his teeth. “Besides, I trust him.”
One soldier stumbled beside him, a jagged wound carved into his arm. Orio darted under his blade, supporting him with surprising strength for his tiny frame.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQqBABl1upO
“Don’t falter now! I got your back!” Orio barked, eyes blazing.
The man coughed out a pained laugh. “A puffball’s tougher than me, huh? Guess I’ll live long enough to see this through.”
“Damn right, you will!” Orio snapped, before leaping forward again.
He surged back into the fray, throwing himself headlong at another specter. His fists blurred in a whirlwind as he battered it against a wall, the spirit shrieking as its essence cracked apart. He spun to the next, ducking under its claw and delivering an uppercut that launched it skyward. The blow rang out like a bell, rattling bones and void alike. Jaw or no jaw, that thing had to feel it.
But even as he fought, something was wrong. A sharp sting burned across his round little side. Orio stumbled, eyes widening as black ichor dripped from a fresh slash. He growled, retaliating instantly—slamming an uppercut into the specter’s chin, sending it cartwheeling into the void sky.
Scoffing at his wound, he steadied himself, puffing his chest. “Tch. Barely a scratch.” But as he looked forward, his bravado cracked.
An endless void stretched before him, swallowing the battlefield in silence. The ground beneath his tiny feet trembled, fracturing into fragments. Shock rippled through him.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrTmi3hKBrm
“W–what is this?!”
The platform beneath him splintered, shrinking away into nothingness. Orio stumbled back, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing left to hold. In his confusion, his balance failed, and he slipped into the abyss.
As he fell, horrors pressed against his mind—visions of death, shadowy claws, whispers in languages never meant for the living. He thrashed against them, every ounce of willpower straining. “It’s not real! It’s not real—it’s just a dream!” he shouted, voice breaking.
But the darkness only laughed back.
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Year 1: Royal Scientist
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Ragna soared above the battlefield, his body crackling with raw energy that shimmered like violet lightning across his frame. Each pulse of power propelled him forward, wings of pure aura flaring behind him. He was always more of a powerhouse in the lab than on the frontlines—a mind built for equations and designs, not blades and war cries. But today, there was no time for equations. Today, the people needed sheer, unrelenting force.
From his vantage, he scanned the carnage below. His sharp eyes caught the unsettling sight: soldiers staggering, their bodies bleeding thick, oily black. The hue wasn’t shocking—black blood was their curse—but the strangeness struck him. The wounds were shallow, nothing fatal, yet the men twisted in agony, still alive but suffering as if something deeper than flesh had been cut.
Then his gaze sharpened on a blur darting between the chaos. Orio. Even amidst smoke and shadows, Ragna’s keen vision tracked the puffball’s frantic movements. And then he froze. Orio’s side was split open, ichor dripping from the wound. Black. Not white. Orio’s blood had always been white, a reflection of the purity in his essence. To see it corrupted chilled Ragna more than the battlefield itself.
His thoughts were cut short. A wet crack tore the air, and a volley of bone spikes erupted from the nearest giant, whistling toward him like spears. Ragna’s eyes flashed, his body whipping into motion. He twirled midair, trails of energy bursting from his hands as he fired rapid blasts—each shot vaporizing a spike before it could reach the ground. Shards scattered like ash across the wind. None of them touched the soldiers below.
Ragna steadied himself, chest heaving, his eyes never leaving the towering monstrosities. The giants loomed like titans stitched together from nightmares, every inch of them wrapped in pulsating, tumor-like flesh. The mounds swelled and contracted, covering their bodies in a grotesque armor that even turret fire couldn’t pierce fast enough. Their sheer bulk meant every second counted; if they advanced, whole lines would break.
“Think…” Ragna muttered under his breath, forcing his analytical mind to push past the chaos. He studied their gait—the uneven way the ground shuddered as they walked. The arms, the chest, the back—too armored. But then his eyes narrowed. The lower legs. Thin, exposed. A flaw. If enough concentrated firepower hit them, the weight of their bodies would betray them, snapping their stance and sending them crashing.
“Of course… the legs,” he whispered.
Another roar shook the battlefield. The nearest giant raised an arm and slammed it into the ground, bone shards spraying out like a storm. Ragna thrust both hands forward, energy flaring around him like a miniature black hole. He countered the barrage with a single sweeping blast, disintegrating the shards midair before diving closer to the monster.
His fists glowed, sparks spraying as he charged them. He slammed into the giant’s shin with explosive force, a thunderclap echoing as black flesh tore from the impact. The beast staggered, its howl shaking the clouds, but the wound sealed too quickly for Ragna’s liking. He gritted his teeth. Not enough damage on his own.
He pulled back, energy wings unfurling once more. Ragna raised a hand and carved through the air with blinding precision. Energy followed his fingertip like ink, each stroke leaving a glowing line against the smoke-filled sky. Within moments, a colossal message burned above the battlefield in radiant violet:
“TARGET THE LEGS.”
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Year 1: Turret.
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“Uhh James?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjToq9DsxZi
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“What black brain? I know you’re not having second thoughts. We’re beyond that shadow of a doubt.”
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“No, just is that a message?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZOgnQf8h1z
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“What–? Let me see.” He zooms his visor in onto a faint dot in the distance that was originally covered by their fire.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbS8udDsLRk
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The dot is actually a sentence, “TARGET THE LEGS.”
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“Well I’ll be, is that the royal scientist?”
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“Doesn’t matter now we have our orders! Aim for the legs, guys!”
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Year 1: Fallen Scientist
Ragna lifted his hand once more, the glowing message pulsing brighter in the smoke-filled sky. He gave a sharp, impatient wave, the letters flickering with his gesture.
“Come on, hurry it up already!” he barked, his voice half-lost in the roar of artillery. A turret blast shot past him, narrowly missing his side as it hammered into the giant’s exposed shin. Ragna smirked, rising higher into the air. “’Bout time!”
He darted forward in a streak of violet, deliberately weaving through the monster’s line of sight. Energy sparked around his frame, each movement sharp and taunting—every flash daring the beast to look away from the soldiers. If he could keep its focus locked on him, the turrets and gunners would have the chance they needed.
“Alright… just have to keep this up—”
The words froze in his throat. A sudden, blinding agony ripped through his gut. His eyes dropped in disbelief to the steel shaft that jutted out from his stomach—a construction pole, warped and hurled with impossible force. The taste of iron filled his mouth as his energy flickered.
He staggered midair, coughing blood. Then came the follow-up strike. Two jagged bones erupted from below, lancing upward like spears. One tore clean through his arm, the other grazed across his head, sending a hot spray of blood trailing behind him.
His flight stuttered. The surrounding light dimmed.
Ragna’s body gave out, tumbling from the sky in a sickening spiral. Soldiers below looked up in horror as the mighty powerhouse they had relied on—the brilliant mind, their unshakable bull—was ripped from the heavens.
Ragna had fallen.
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Year 1: Banished King9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXQEkNmBdUY
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Crimson kicked the figure off with a burst of shadow energy, landing hard against the cobblestones and sliding back, sparks trailing beneath his boots. His aura pulsed like a storm barely contained, the dark violet glow flaring across the ruined city streets.
“ Hear this, beast,” Crimson roared, his voice echoing across the empty district. “I am Crimson, king of this grand kingdom, and I refuse to allow anyone—” his fists clenched, claws sparking with shadow fire, “—to ruin it.”
The figure only tilted his head, eyes gleaming with a detached curiosity. “Nytheris.”
Crimson’s mind sparked—its name? But there was no time to think, no space to let thoughts linger. The present belonged to action.
Nytheris lunged, his hand crackling with a blade of condensed shadow. Crimson twisted, parrying the strike with a flare of chains and countering in the same motion with two jabs that cracked like thunder. A right hook followed, his fist a comet of raw energy, sending Nytheris crashing through a city street and cratering the stone.
Crimson exhaled, forcing calm. The citizens were already evacuated, but even so… these were their homes. He didn’t want to ruin them. He raised a hand and began to float upward, power surging beneath him. “Let’s take this to the skies.”
Nytheris pulled himself from the rubble, smiling thinly. “I’m fine here, thanks.”
He slammed a hand into the nearest wall, ripping out a steel beam. With terrifying precision, he hurled it like a javelin. It whistled through the air before impaling Crimson mid-lift, slamming him back down into the grand fountain at the central plaza. The marble cracked apart under the impact, water spraying like a shattered geyser.
“We’ll call that payback,” Nytheris said coldly. He raised another beam, hefting it like a spear. “This… will be punishment.”
He hurled it, then another, tearing through the very bones of the city to weaponize its infrastructure. Crimson rolled through the spray, shadow energy coating his arms. He sidestepped the first beam, shattered the second with a rising elbow, then ripped a pole free from the rubble and spun it like a staff. He lashed out, cracking Nytheris across the skull with a metallic clang.
The impact staggered Nytheris, his head snapping to the side. Crimson didn’t hesitate—chains burst from the ground, snapping around Nytheris’s limbs, binding him to the cobblestones. Yet for extra measure, he stabbed him through the gut with the metal pole. Crimsons his gauntlets materializing around his fists, claws glowing with a purple electric hum.
“You were warned,” Crimson growled. His shadows pinned Nytheris harder as he pressed the sparking claws to Nytheris’s chest. “Now you and your army will face judgment for what you’ve done. But first—” his eyes burned with wrath, “—you’re going to answer me.”
The claws dug into Nytheris’s chest, electricity searing his flesh. “Tell me. And you’d better not fucking lie. What did you do to the kids?”
Nytheris didn’t scream. He only laughed, a low rasp curling from his throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Crimson snarled, shadows writhing behind him. “Don’t play games with me. The Time Council. What did you do.” He shoved his claws deeper, the voltage crackling through Nytheris’s body until the air itself hummed with static.
Nytheris’s grin widened, strained but unbroken. “Hell if I know,” he rasped. “But from what I can see… I’m not the me you should be worried about.”
Crimson’s eyes narrowed, confusion breaking through his fury. “What—”
The answer came in white-hot pain. A blade of energy tore through his heart from behind, freezing his body in place. His breath caught. The Nytheris in front of him shimmered, fading into smoke.
The real Nytheris stood behind, his hand on the hilt of the energy saber buried in Crimson’s chest. “Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered coldly. “There was nothing you could do. My illusions are too convincing… even for me at times.”
Crimson struggled, summoning chains, shadows, anything—but Nytheris ripped the blade free with a brutal twist and axe-kicked him down. Crimson hit the stones with a bone-shaking crack, the heel of Nytheris’s boot grinding into his spine to pin him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Nytheris clicked his tongue, voice dripping with mockery. “You should know better than to yell in public. It’s just… embarrassing. Ah, but here's an idea from my good pal Crimson.” He kicks up a metal pole and launches it through the hole in the wall, and it hits its mark. Ragna. He plummets from the sky.
Crimson’s rage boiled over, his aura swelling like a storm about to consume the city, but Nytheris gave him no room to rise. He raised his palm.
“Power of Z. Symbol of Nytheris.”
A burning symbol seared into Crimson’s back, locking his mind and soul into his body. Crimson howled as his power was caged, his fury trapped. Nytheris lifted him like a broken doll, eyes alight with cruel satisfaction.
He turned, his hand glowing, and blasted a hole into the ground so deep the shadows seemed endless. Without ceremony, he hurled Crimson into the abyss. The sound of impact never came. Only silence.
Nytheris stood at the edge, waiting, listening. Nothing. Finally, he smirked, dusting his hands.
“Good.” He glanced toward the horizon, eyes narrowing on the distant battle. “Well…” he murmured, a cruel smile spreading across his face, “this is an interesting development.”
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Year 1: Ruined Scientist
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“. . . where am I?”
“It’s so dark.”
“Why can’t I breathe?”
“. . . actually, I can’t inhale at all.”
“I feel like I’m drowning… like my lungs are filled with blood.”
“My body… it hurts so much.”
“I feel so sick… every inch of me is aflame.”
“My head… it’s spinning… I can’t think straight.”
“My stomach… it’s gnawing… insatiable.”
“And… it’s so loud… the screams… the tearing of flesh… the chaos… it’s everywhere!”
Dust and ash choked the air as soldiers screamed, their black blood pooling and splattering across the cobblestones. The tearing of flesh echoed like some monstrous symphony. A flesh Ragna ran rampant through the army, limbs flailing, bones snapping through torsos and heads alike. Every strike sent black blood spraying in arcs, painting the battlefield with horror. More specters poured into the city, their ghastly forms phasing through walls, tearing open evacuation points, shattering barricades, and spreading pure chaos.
Ragna’s vision began to clear, but the clarity brought only terror.
“What… what am I doing?”
“Why… why can’t I control my body?!”
“What’s happening to me?”
“Why… why is this happening!”
The screaming of soldiers, the crack of bones, the shrieks of the specters—all of it clawed at his senses. He saw a soldier impaled on a bone, writhing in black blood.
“Orio…” he gasped.
“Crimson…” he croaked, though no sound came.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTQtPL9WRFi
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“Where… where are they. . .?”
“My body… I feel muffled… trapped… enslaved…”
“Why… why am I doing this?!”
His limbs moved with a will that wasn’t entirely his own. He reached out and grabbed another soldier, twisting and tearing through them like a predator. The horror of his own actions burned in his mind, but he couldn’t stop.
Suddenly, he noticed a figure standing at the edge of the carnage. Nytheris.
“You…” Ragna’s thoughts screamed, pure instinct and rage.
“You… started this.”
“You… NEED… to die!”
“I won’t stop… until you die!”
“SUFFER!”
In a sudden, terrifying lunge, Ragna’s body finally listened. Through bloodlust and hatred the virus charged. His muscles pumped with unnatural strength, his bones jutted at grotesque angles, and his skin stretched tight over rippling sinew. Every movement left destruction in its wake—walls crumbled, soldiers were impaled, and the ground itself splintered beneath his weight.
Nytheris smirked. “Well, well, well… looks like we have a defect.”
Blood leaked freely from wounds that should have been fatal. Bones cracked and reformed under the virus’s unholy influence. The screams of soldiers, the shrieks of specters, the chaos of the city—it all became fuel, each sensation amplifying the virus’s control over him.
A portal suddenly opened in front of Ragna. It started to drag him in, as Ragna’s cries twisted into pure, insane pain as he hurled himself against the boundaries of the portal, his distorted body flailing like a living nightmare. He could see the destruction around, the city burning, the people running, the kingdom crumbling. And yet he fell into the portal all the same, as it closed behind him.
“Well… my job’s done,” Nytheris croaked, voice jagged and broken, yet infused with dark power. He coughs into his arm a bit “Damn he sure can grab, my throat still hurts, and as much as I would love to stay… other responsibilities to handle."
In a whirlwind of shadows, he vanished. The only trace left behind was his symbol, scorched deep into the shattered ground—a grim reminder of the horror that had walked among them9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMOMYMtlWu3
and then Add to home screen.