"Let this day, BE LEGEND!" The resonant proclamation reverberated.
The very sky quaked, energies swirling and burning, an intensity that drove the four intruders to their knees.
Xalier and Elah's auras expanded to eightfold their original magnitude.
"..." Sensing the impending cataclysm, the trespassers hastily revised their strategy, seeking to buy some precious moments.
{This tale, born of battle, finds its origins in a forest, within a home, amidst a mother and father.}
A resonant sound pierced the heavens, a sonic ripple that drew the gaze of those within a vast radius, their collective attention riveted to the enigma unfurling above.
"What?"
"What sorcery is this?" Some on the battlefield... Others inside their homes, in pubs, and even in castles.
"What is this?" Across regions and domains, at that moment, an orchestral chorus of perplexed voices surged through the air, a tapestry woven from the myriad reactions of elves and vampires alike.
"The Voice of the World!?" From varied vantage points, voices cried out.
"Someone is writing a story..." Recognition dawned on some, while others remained perplexed. Yet, one truth bound them all: they listened, ensnared by the unfolding narrative.
As Xalier and Elah surged forth, Nemes matched their advance, a fervent invocation on his lips.
"Dragon Blood release! Dragon Transformation!"
Ebony fissures opened on Nemes's limbs and visage, crimson hues painting his now partially scaled form. His outstretched hand morphed, fingers broadening into sinister claws.
With a swipe, four fiery blades erupted from Nemes, only to meet Elah's onslaught—a sphere of flames, heightened by wind and nature magic, its hues dancing in red, white, and green.
The clash revealed a stark reality to Nemes, his eyes trembling in disbelief. Despite being a Stage above Elah, victory was a distant dream.
"Aghr..." Their confrontation was swift, the force of her strike obliterating his own with unforgiving efficiency.
The searing fireball drove him into the earth, plumes of dust and smoke billowing, a chasm marking its impact.
{The flames surged, embodying the blistering gales born from a mother's unyielding wrath, its relentless dance consuming all in the path.}
Xalier surged forward, his intent unwavering. As he closed in on the elf, his blade met an unforeseen obstacle—a transparent barrier.
The elf retaliated with a flurry of spells, lightning, and wind blades racing toward Xalier. Yet, to the elf's astonishment, the magic passed through him like a ghost.
"Afterimage!?" the elf exclaimed, pivoting to witness Xalier's strike against the resilient barrier. Once again, his onslaught of spells phased through the illusory afterimage.
A red flash pierced the air, seizing the elf's attention. With growing trepidation, he beheld five more crimson streaks.
"Blood Red Flash...that's quite... fitting..." he muttered, blood spilling from his mouth, purple flames consuming him before he crumbled into dismembered fragments.
{Spanning across realms. A torrent of the father's vehement disdain engulfed every trace of sentient existence.}
The battlefield crackled with raw power, a maelstrom of magic and might. Xalier's sword cleaved through the last smoldering remains of the once-sentient being, ensuring nothing was left of him.
Meanwhile, Elah's attention shifted towards an explosive turmoil where the short vampire and elf woman relentlessly assaulted Antanasia, her form drenched in blood struggling yet still fighting, a testament to her unyielding defense.
Though Antanasia possessed formidable strength, her lower Stage left her at a disadvantage. Her cursed katana granted her power, but also a heavy price.
As the battle wore on, her muscles tore and repaired in real-time, leaving her arms trembling, yet she still stood up, her relentless will and endurance not letting her fall until she died.
Her cursed blade, a weapon of unparalleled might, exacted a heavy toll, blood streamed from her nose, eyes, and mouth, lending a ghastly visage to her form. She pushed herself to fend off the onslaught, yet her arm soon faltered, muscles failing her.
"Thank you..." A low-voiced appreciation was told from a place Antanasia could not see or feel. Then, a surprising calm enveloped her.
"Huh?" She blinked, puzzled, as a blue barrier enveloped her, rapidly mending her wounds.
{Shielded by a compassionate embrace, water, soaked in emotions, both anguish and torment...}
'Words? They...' Antanasia heard the voice, its cryptic narration of the battle continuing meanwhile Elah unleashed a fiery spell on the elf woman. Despite her attempts to evade, the spell raced too swiftly, scorching her flesh.
Elah followed up with a wind-blade-like spell, cleanly cleaving the woman in twain. Turning her attention to the short man, Elah conjured immense spikes that impaled his feet.
"Argh..." Magma and fire surged from the spikes, and though he managed to free his legs, the fiery magic already surged towards him in the form of a blade. Despite his four energy arms straining against the inferno, his skin seared making his fate look to be sealed.
"...?" With the last intruder's body aflame, and him slowly turning to ash, both Elah and Xalier caught a flicker of energy amidst the cloud and smoke where Nemes fell.
From the hazed crater emerged a towering figure, the transformed Nemes, a draconic form its skin a fiery red, cracks resembling scales adorning his form.
Yet, even this augmented strength waned against the combined onslaught of Xalier and Elah.
They advanced on Nemes, who struggled to escape the crater. A synchronized onslaught overpowered him, wounds manifesting across his body.
Though the formidable half-dragon state was powerful, it proved unsustainable. Eventually, Nemes succumbed to the attacks.
But as Xalier poised to deliver a decisive strike, a shadow darted into the smoke, seizing his sword and thwarting the attack.
"...!" Anger contorted Xalier's visage, but as three more shadows joined the fray, in a swift motion, he kicked the figure holding his sword, jumping out from the smoke.
With Elah at his side, they beheld Nemes' giant form returning to its original state.
This swift transformation made the dust and smoke clear, only to reveal Iosif and the Elder who chased Xalier, flanked by two middle-aged looking elven men.
"Olendriant... Standing beside your enemy? What would your ancestors say?" The elf standing near Iosif said with an arrogant tone.
If one hadn't seen the scene, they wouldn't have been able to say that he was doing the same thing he just preached about.
"...!" Seeing the people who orchestrated everything, clear hatred and rage radiated from both Elah and Xalier's eyes, yet they did not speak up, no rather, they couldn't.
In these moments, the thing that didn't let them speak, the lump forming in their throat, the facial muscles tightening, actions their body instinctively made from trying to suppress emotions that could not be controlled.
The charged atmosphere gripped all of them, energies crackling with hostility. With magic, aura, and energy ablaze, the four assailants launched their attack.
Elah formed a shield of water and earth, while Xalier conjured his potent fusion of Blood and Spirit Fire, making those purple flames flare up once again.
As the four broke through the barrier, Elah unleashed her tri-colored magics among them her fire as well, engulfing their approaching foes.
The inferno consumed them, as Xalier's purple flames merged with Elah's, intensifying the conflagration.
'...?' Just as the four figures seemed engulfed in flames, a peculiar realization struck Xalier. He seized Elah by the waist, and in an instant, they vanished from the heart of the fire.
Reappearing a short distance away, they witnessed the sudden eruption of energy from the four figures, culminating in an explosion of magic and aura.
"As always you have a good intuition, young Lear..." The four figures emerged, largely unscathed.
Seeing this, sweat glistened on Xalier's brow. Despite the newfound strength that they achieved through the story, they faced four formidable 5th-stage adversaries.
Right now with their luck burning, they rose to a level that was equal to a 5th-stage cultivator of the World Source Realm, unfortunately, the enemies simply outnumbered them.
Sensing his concern, Elah grasped Xalier's hand, determination radiating from her gaze.
"...?" Feeling her touch, his eyes diverted from the enemy. His gaze now only captured the blaze in Elah's eyes.
In this state, no words were needed, only a slight nod passed by the two and they already knew what the other wanted.
And truly it was simply, they... The ones who took him away...They will pay!
With their combined energy, the battle raged on.
Elah and Xalier complemented each other, a strategic edge against the four assailants who fought in a rather arrogant and unsupportive way.
In minutes of relentless exchange, both sides bore the scars of combat. Spells and protective enchantments kept the two of them from severe injury, but their energy reserves dwindled rapidly only keeping up through their fate.
As Iosif and the middle-aged elf geared up for a final strike, so did Elah and Xalier. Explosions echoed through the sky as their attacks clashed.
Just as they prepared for another combined assault, two more blasts hurtled toward them from the smoke. Reacting swiftly, they released their fire, the blasts colliding in a pyrotechnic display.
From the dissipating smoke, Iosif and the middle-aged elf materialized above them, unleashing a barrage of magic and sword energy.
{On the field covered with snow-white ash... The mother and the father fell at the same time...}
In the aftermath of the clash, a hush fell upon the battlefield. Xalier and Elah, though marked with some serious wounds, found their determination undeterred, each rising with an unyielding resolve to face the enemies intruding on their home, into their lives, they who took away the one who meant the most for them except for each other.
All six of them prepared for a new attack and clash, only to be met with an unexpected continuation from the voice of the world.
{The instant wrath and dread gripped the hearts of the mother and father...}
"...?" Both Xalier and Elah, and even Iosif and the other three had questioning and surprised looks on their faces.
The words of the world, even as it accurately follows and documents everything happening around the ones who induced it, in a strange hypocritical way alter its words to help and prise the ones who summoned it... But now... It described Elah and Xalier in a bad tone...
{The moment defeat and failure were seconds away, a monstrous, lifeless soul reawakened, and then, the dead returned.}
As these words resounded, all eyes turned towards the fallen creatures. A collective stillness settled, an unspoken query prompting a heavy feeling in the air: 'Who? An enemy or an ally?'
Amidst the silent pondering, a voice pierced the heavens, echoing across the expanse.
"The Heavens...! They who lay still!"