Each step Adonis takes sends a powerful surge reverberating through the room, a palpable force that crackles in the air around him. The pressure of this looming battle weighs heavily on his shoulders; he knows that if he is defeated today, he will be trapped in this forsaken realm for another ten long, agonizing years. As he strides forward, a deep, resonant horn blares in the distance, and a low, haunting chant begins to echo through the darkened halls. From the shadows, the Forgotten King emerges, his steps deliberate and slow, his presence commanding. His armor, no longer dented and damaged, gleams under the dim light, adorned with countless ornaments and trophies that glint with an eerie shine. Each piece tells a story: some of love and devotion, others of betrayal and treachery, a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lifetimes. Yet, one particular symbol catches Adonis's eye. It seems familiar, almost as if it calls out to him from across time and space, even though he knows he has never seen it before.
The Forgotten King's voice booms, cutting through the tension, "This is the day you shall witness the true boundaries of our reality, Adonis. I have watched you grow, watched you evolve from a mere boy into the man who now stands before me. But there are things that should never change in a man: his love, his hope, his passion, his heart. These are what make a man truly a man… Now, I will show you the thin line between fiction and reality."
Suddenly, the castle around them dissolves, fading into shadows as if it were nothing more than a mirage. Adonis feels a chill run down his spine as he finds himself standing in a new realm, a place engulfed in inevitable darkness. The ground beneath him is solid, yet feels strangely unreal, and around him rise grand pillars forged from an indestructible metal, each one different from the last. Yet one pillar stands out above all others; it is made of pure gold, with mesmerizing swirls of white and black dancing up its length. Atop each pillar burns a flame, each one a different color, flickering as if alive. The Forgotten King speaks again, his voice filled with a strange mix of pride and sorrow, "This is the Lost Realm, Adonis, the origin of the gods. This is the place where the Dark Eternal was slain by his own brother. THIS is the place of true power. This… this is the place where I will defeat you, Adonis, son of Apollo!"
With a swift motion, the Forgotten King draws his sword, a weapon that seems to hum with a dark energy, and begins to approach. Adonis feels a strange sensation, a pressure building behind him. Instinctively, he whirls around, drawing his own sword just in time to see a massive, looming figure towering over him, its arm poised to strike with a sword that seems to be forged from pure shadow. The figure brings its blade down with tremendous force, the air itself seeming to shatter around it. Unable to dodge in time, Adonis plants his feet firmly on the ground, raises his sword, and shouts, "Divine protection!"
The two swords clash with the force of collapsing galaxies, a cataclysmic impact that sends shockwaves rippling through the ground. The very earth beneath them cracks and shatters, the air thick with the scent of ozone and burning metal. As the dust begins to settle, the Forgotten King laughs, a deep, mocking sound that sends chills down Adonis's spine. "HAHAHA! You pathetic fool! You claim to hate the gods, yet you call upon their protection? You were never worthy of that blade!"
Adonis's anger flares, his voice filled with fury. "Shut up, you bastard! I am worthy, and I will prove it to you by slaying you with that very blade!" With a determined glare, he sheathes his mother's sword and places his hand on Excalibur, the legendary weapon that has not been unsheathed since its creation. The Forgotten King interrupts, a sneer on his face. "Kid, not even your father could draw that blade. It has remained dormant, untouched, for countless centuries."
But Adonis is undeterred. His heart pounds with resolve as he pulls at the blade, and slowly, painfully, metal begins to scrape against metal. The blade is revealed, inch by inch, a mesmerizing blood-red steel that glows with an inner fire. The Forgotten King's eyes widen in disbelief as he watches, his mouth agape. "Impossible… This little brat is more worthy than Apollo himself?"
Flames suddenly burst from the blade, and the same fire seems to ignite within Adonis's eyes. The realm around them grows brighter, illuminated by this display of ultimate power. This is no ordinary weapon; it is the power of the Stones, an ultimate weapon bestowed only upon the chosen, those whom the Stone itself deems worthy. For anyone else, it is a curse, a painful demise waiting to happen. Adonis roars, his voice filled with unwavering conviction, "I AM WORTHY! THIS IS THE POWER I WAS GIFTED! THIS IS MY DESTINY!"
He charges forward with renewed vigor, his steps leaving cracks in the ground. With all his strength, he swings the blade, bringing it down in a powerful arc that cleaves through the Forgotten King's armor as if it were made of paper. The force of the strike is so immense that it splits the very ground they stand on, tearing the floating island in half. The Forgotten King staggers, falling toward the void below. As he descends, he utters one final word, his voice a whisper on the wind, "Prosper…"
With the king defeated, Adonis stands tall, his breath heavy but his spirit unbroken. He turns away from the chasm, knowing that the hardest journey still lies ahead. The Lost Sanctuary awaits him, and somewhere within its mysterious depths is Freyja, the one he must find to fulfill his destiny. He knows that the path forward will be fraught with danger, but his heart is resolute. He will find her. He will not rest until he does.
Adonis takes a deep breath, steels himself, and begins his journey anew, ready to face whatever trials and tribulations lie ahead, for he knows that his true test has only just begun.