Zane sat with his legs crossed, his body completely still, surrounded by an endless expanse of white light. The heat, the chaos, the battles—everything had faded into oblivion. Now, there was only peace and quiet. The contrast was almost jarring. He was dressed in dark green robes that clung to his powerful frame, the fabric shimmering faintly as if imbued with the energy of his victory. His light green hair hung loosely, and his golden eyes remained closed, a serene smile playing on his lips.
He had done it. He had passed the Fire Storm training.
Slowly, Zane opened his eyes, blinking against the blinding whiteness that surrounded him. It was an infinite void, stretching out in all directions without a single point of reference. Despite the utter lack of substance, Zane couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride wash over him. His journey had been long, his battles arduous, but now he could finally call himself a Storm.
"Zanestorm..." Zane whispered to himself, savoring the word.
Suddenly, a deep, resonant voice echoed around him, reverberating through the void. It was neither too loud nor too soft, but it carried an undeniable authority that demanded attention.
"Congratulations, Zane. You have passed the Storm training."
Zane stood up slowly, still smiling as he looked around, searching for the source of the voice. "Thanks" he called out. His voice seemed to disappear into the whiteness around him. There was no sound of footsteps, no figures, just the same endless void of light stretching in all directions. It was surreal. Despite the battles he'd fought, the enemies he'd faced, it was almost unbelievable that all this time, everything had taken place in this strange, ethereal realm.
As Zane continued to survey his surroundings, an enormous white gate materialized in front of him. It was massive, its towering frame shining with a soft glow that pulsed with life. Its surface was smooth and flawless, with intricate patterns of swirling energy etched into the surface. The gate stood out as the only tangible thing in this void of whiteness.
Zane's eyes narrowed in curiosity. Before he could take a step toward it, a figure appeared out of the void—silent and ghostly. The figure was mirror-like, its body translucent, as though it was made from pure light. It wore long white robes that flowed elegantly around it, moving despite the lack of wind. Its face was a blank, smooth surface, devoid of features, yet Zane could feel its gaze.
"You have completed your training," the figure said, its voice calm and gentle. "The Fire Storm mantle is yours. You may now leave."
Zane nodded, his face filled with determination. He had done what he had come here to do. There was no reason to stay any longer. As he took his first step toward the gate, he felt the weight of his journey settle in his chest. He had faced so much, sacrificed more than he thought possible, and now the end was in sight.
But just as he was about to cross the threshold, the voice spoke again. This time, its tone was laced with warning.
"Before you leave, remember this, Zane: the burden of the world now rests on your shoulders. You are one of the Five Storms. Your duty is to ensure that the balance is maintained. If the balance is tipped, the world will fall into chaos."
Zane paused, turning back toward the mirror-like being. His golden eyes met the blank, featureless face of the figure. For a moment, Zane's expression was serious. He understood the weight of his responsibility, the gravity of what was expected of him. There was no room for error now.
"I understand," Zane said firmly. "I won't let the world fall."
The figure nodded, its form rippling slightly as it gestured toward the gate. "Good. Now you may leave."
As Zane stepped closer to the gate, the massive doors began to creak open, revealing a swirling red portal of energy on the other side. Just as he was about to step through, the mirror-being called out to him again.
"One last thing."
Zane halted, glancing over his shoulder. The figure remained where it stood, but now it held something in its hand—a small key, glowing faintly with a red core embedded at its center.
The figure tossed the key toward Zane, who caught it effortlessly. The key was cool to the touch, surprisingly light despite its importance.
"Keep that with you," the figure said. "If ever you are in trouble and need the aid, use it. It will call upon the ancient powers of the Storm for help."
Zane looked down at the key for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. "Thanks," he said with a small smile. "I'll remember that."
Without another word, Zane turned back to the gate, taking a deep breath. The air around him was thick with energy, the portal's pull tugging at him like a strong wind. He took one last look around at the void, the infinite whiteness that had been his home for so long, and chuckled.
"You must also remember,once you leave you shall never return," the white figure muttered."Who would want to stay here? No offense." Zane answered."None taken," the figure replied, its voice fading as Zane stepped forward.
With a final exhale, Zane crossed through the gate.
The moment Zane emerged from the portal, the world around him exploded into chaos. A massive red beam of light shot into the sky, tearing through the atmosphere with unimaginable force. The red light streaked upward, piercing the clouds, painting the horizon in an ominous glow. It was so bright that it could be seen from every corner of the continent, a blazing beacon of power.
The people of the Lava Continent stared in awe and terror at the sight. The elders in distant villages muttered among themselves, their faces pale as they realized what the red light signified. The last Storm had arrived. After months of waiting, the final Storm was among them, and with it, the last storm of fate was about to begin.
As Zane stepped out of the gate, he shielded his eyes from the harsh light. The portal behind him vanished without a trace, leaving only the scorching heat of the world he had returned to. His eyes, accustomed to the blinding whiteness of the void, now took in the sight before him—and what he saw made his heart skip a beat.
The land around him was nothing like what he had expected.
The once majestic buildings were nothing more than crumbled ruins, blackened and hollowed out by destructive forces.Entire cities had been reduced to rubble, their structures collapsing into ash. The sky, once a fiery blue, now hung heavy with thick, suffocating clouds of smoke.
It was a landscape of devastation, a wasteland of fire and ruin.
Zane's eyes widened in shock as he took in the destruction. His mouth hung open, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of what he was seeing. The devastation stretched as far as he could see, a never-ending horizon of death and decay.
"What the hell…?" Zane whispered, his voice barely audible.