The academy was engulfed in chaos. Explosions echoed across the campus as students and teachers engaged in fierce combat against a swarm of zealots—worshipers serving gods, attacking like an unstoppable tide. These fanatics wore dark robes lined with symbols that glowed faintly, their weapons enchanted by divine power. Though most were weak, their sheer numbers and fanaticism overwhelmed the academy's defenses.
Zaryth fought alongside the students, his movements fast and precise. While others fought with fireballs and swords, he moved differently. One moment, he was on one side of the battlefield, and in a blink, he was somewhere else, striking down an enemy without anyone understanding how he did it.
"Did you see that?" one student muttered, stunned.
"What kind of magic is that?" another whispered.
Zaryth didn't give them a chance to figure it out. He weaved through the battlefield, using the slightest pauses in time to strike and evade blows, leaving enemies stunned. Teachers and students alike were perplexed by his speed—but now wasn't the time to question it.
He kept his focus on two things: winning the fight and keeping his siblings safe. Ruby, with her silver hair gleaming in the morning sun, unleashed devastating spells—bolts of lightning arcing from her fingertips, torrents of water crashing into enemies, and flames swirling like a vortex around her. She fought like a tempest, powerful and relentless, her face calm but determined.
Zaryth gave a small nod of approval. Ruby was more than holding her own.
But something gnawed at him—he hadn't seen Nico since the attack began. Panic gripped him, and he raced through the battlefield, his senses heightened.
---
As Zaryth rounded a corner, his heart nearly stopped. There, pinned beneath a massive piece of rubble, lay Nico. His younger brother struggled weakly, gasping for breath. Standing atop the debris was a towering figure—his golden armor radiating with a blinding light, and the symbol of the sun god etched into his chestplate.
The man sneered down at Zaryth. "So, you came." His voice boomed, carrying an air of superiority. "I am the Great Worshiper of the Sun God. I carry His blessing directly, and by His will, I'll burn everything you hold dear."
Zaryth's gaze darkened, his fists clenching. The chaos around him faded into the background—his sole focus now on Nico and the man threatening him.
"You shouldn't have touched my brother." Zaryth's voice was dangerously calm, his eyes narrowing into a fierce glare.
The worshiper grinned maliciously. "And what will you do, Silverlight? You—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence. In an instant, Zaryth moved. Time froze—everything locked in place except for him. With the world suspended in a standstill, Zaryth struck, hitting the worshiper with a series of precise blows. His movements were smooth and fluid, his strikes calculated.
When time resumed, the worshiper was sent flying backward, slamming into a nearby wall with a thunderous crash. He crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain and struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
Zaryth knelt by Nico, gently lifting the rubble off his brother. "You're safe now," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with resolve.
Nico looked up at him, tears welling in his eyes. "You really are the brother you promised to be," he whispered weakly, a small smile forming on his face despite the pain.
Zaryth's heart ached, but he gave his brother a reassuring smile. "I'll always protect you, Nico. Always."
The battle raged on around them, but for a moment, it was just the two of them—brothers bound by love and promises.
---
The fight wasn't over, though. Zaryth stood, his expression shifting back to the cold, calculating warrior. He glanced toward Ruby, who was still fighting fiercely. As he locked eyes with her across the battlefield, she gave him a brief, knowing nod. They weren't finished yet.
The worshiper of the Sun God slowly rose to his feet, his aura burning brighter as he prepared to retaliate.
But Zaryth wasn't worried. If this man thought the blessing of a god would be enough to stop him, he was about to learn the hard way—nothing, not even the gods, could stand in his way.
The worshiper straightened, brushing the dust off his golden armor. He checked his body for any fractures, then cracked his neck with a satisfied smirk. "So, it's true," he muttered. "You can control time. Impressive."
Zaryth stood in silence, every muscle tensed, prepared to strike again.
"But," the worshiper continued, his smile spreading menacingly, "even if you can manipulate it, there's only so much a mere human body can handle."
He took a step forward, his armor gleaming under the sun's rays. "You know, every archon carries a burden: a limit. To break free from it, they must consume a relic—a sacred heirloom passed down in their family. It unlocks the full potential of their power, shattering human limitations and granting an eternal life beyond aging, beyond weakness."
The words struck Zaryth like a knife to the heart. He remembered the legacy of his family—the Silverlight dynasty, holders of duality, both light and darkness intertwined. He had always known that his father, the current Archon of Duality, was considered the weakest in their family's long history.
Elysia, his eldest sister and a holy knight, hadn't yet received the relic, though many believed she was destined to inherit it. And Zaryth… His powers were something entirely different. The Silverlight relic held no meaning for him; it was not tied to time or space.
The worshiper chuckled, eyes gleaming with arrogance. "None of you have inherited your family's relic yet. You're just children playing at being warriors." His voice dropped into a sinister whisper. "And you? You're nothing more than a dead man walking."
Zaryth clenched his fists, fury burning in his veins, but the worshiper's words haunted him. What if it's true? Could his mortal body truly withstand the strain of his powers? He pushed the thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for doubt.
"You'll die here," the worshiper declared, laughing. "Go ahead—stop time. I'm waiting."
Zaryth's mind raced. He had no choice. Ruby and Nico needed him, and there was no other way. His eyes began to glow, brilliant and fierce. With a thought, he reached deep into his being and stopped time.
---
The world froze—but only for an instant.
Suddenly, reality snapped back into motion as if time had never stopped at all. Zaryth stumbled, his head spinning, his vision blurring.
"Brother!" Nico's terrified voice echoed beside him.
Zaryth gasped, clutching his head. His eyes burned as if they were on fire, and then—he felt it. Warm liquid trickling down his face. He raised a trembling hand to his cheek and saw it smeared with blood.
His eyes were crying tears of blood, glowing a furious red. The pain was excruciating—like his skull was about to split apart.
Nico scrambled toward him, fear etched across his young face. "Your eyes, brother… They're—"
Before Nico could finish, Zaryth screamed in agony, a raw, guttural sound that cut through the battlefield. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. Every inch of energy drained from his body, as if the very essence of life was being wrung out of him.
He clutched his chest, trying to hold on, but the pain was relentless. He had pushed his power too far. Stopping time three times during the battle had taken everything from him. Now, his body was rebelling.
The worshiper smiled cruelly, watching Zaryth's suffering with amusement. "Looks like even you have your limits, boy."
Zaryth gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His body trembled, his vision swam, but he refused to give up. Nico needed him. Ruby needed him.
With the last flicker of his strength, Zaryth grabbed Nico's arm and whispered, "Tell… Elysia. Ask her… for help."
Before the worshiper could react, Zaryth teleported Nico away from the battlefield, sending him straight to their sister. Nico vanished in a burst of silver light, his terrified expression burned into Zaryth's memory.
---
Zaryth collapsed to the ground, his breath shallow and ragged. The worshiper of the Sun God loomed over him, his shadow casting a long, ominous figure across the battlefield.
"Sending the boy away? Smart," the worshiper sneered. "But it won't save you."
Zaryth lay there, powerless and broken, blood trickling from his eyes. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to respond. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.
The worshiper raised his hand, golden light gathering in his palm, preparing to deliver the final blow.
But Zaryth's mind remained sharp, even as his body faltered. He wasn't done yet—not by a long shot.