At the Void Archon Castle, deep within the mysterious halls of Zephyrion's chamber, sat a set of ornately carved chairs around a central table, its surface shimmering like the night sky captured in stone. The shining marble seemed to pulse with a faint glow, a silent witness to the storm brewing inside the room.
Zephyrion paced back and forth between the chairs, his movements erratic, like a caged beast searching for escape. His laboured breaths cut through the stillness, each inhale sharp, each exhale laden with worry. His left hand clasped tight upon his belly, while his right elbow rested atop it, propping a shaking hand to cradle his chin between thumb and index finger. His figure, which once seemed regal and commanding, now looked fraught and fragile, a shadow of panic cast against the dim light of the chamber.
Seated calmly on one of the chairs was Old Man Obsidar, his ancient form leaning on a gnarled walking stick as if the weight of his years could anchor the tension in the room. On the surface, his composure seemed unshaken, but the depths of his eyes betrayed the storm within. His mind churned in turmoil, yet his voice came out even, slicing through the thickened air like the thinnest sliver of light in a space devoid of illumination.
"Try to compose yourself. Umbrazel will be here shortly. Everything will be all right," he said, speaking in a soft, firm tone, trying to secure Zephyrion's unraveling nerves.
But Zephyrion froze on the spot, wheeling around to Obsidar, his face a topography of desperation. "You know better than anyone," he responded, his voice breaking from the weight of his fears, quivering like glass on the verge of shattering. "This is not about everything going great. If those Baby Hunters set their sights on him, that's the end. How-how will you and I supposed to explain this to Nihara?"
The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and insidious, like a choking fog. Silence repossessed the room, its crushing grasp broken only by the sound of Zephyrion's irregular steps as he resumed pacing. The seconds dragged on, each one an endless eternity, until finally, three minutes later, the door creaked open.
Umbrazel strode in, imposing yet a gentle echo of feet treading upon the floor in promise of resolution. The turns of both men met the new figure, their gaze weighed down by the unheard pledgings. "I come as..." he started low to say but Zephyrion shot up to him, tending near collapse, to halt Umbrazel in mid-speech.
"Please, you're the only one I can count on. Nyxander has left the castle-can you make your search snappy before those baby hunters catch wind of his presence?" Zephyrion's words tumbled out, their urgency threatening to drown their coherence, his voice trembling in perfect harmony with his quaking body.
Umbrazel straightened, his expression stoic, as always. "Yes, Void Archon," he said, his hands crossed over in a formal, V-shape over his chest. "If that is all, I'll take my leave."
"No problem," Zephyrion said, trying to use his voice in a firm thread of hope. "Please, I'm counting on you about this"
Without another word, Umbrazel turned and left the room; his footsteps echoed down the hall as silence resumed its reign. The marble table glittered once more in the reflection of light, a silent witness to the storm that had been, while Zephyrion stood rigid, eyes fixed on the door as if willing it to bring swift deliverance.
********
Meanwhile, at the battle arena, an electrifying tension suffused the air, like the calm before a thunderstorm. Everywhere was filled with suspense, as though the entire crowd shared a single breath, their focus riveted on the fighters locked in the arena's brutal stage. The once uproarious noise had dwindled into a hushed murmur, a sound so faint it seemed to fade into the stillness of the moment.
Nyxander sitting among them, his unawakened Essentia simmering beneath his skin like an untapped volcano. It roiled, bubbling with intensity, the latent battle trait within him stirring to life, making him unconsciously grip the edges of his seat with whitening knuckles. His body seemed to vibrate with excitement, the primal call of combat awakening a thrill he couldn't suppress as he held himself firmly, transfixed by the spectacle before him.
Both fighters on the arena floor, almost giants from myth, moved steadily, their gazes cold, performing a lethal waltz, probing an instantaneous moment-a slip second advantage that would provide the winning edge or utter devastation. The tension coiled upon itself, waiting for just one little push that could make it burst.
And then Onyxelle stepped, her Essentia boiling around her like an uncaged storm, raw, crackling energy that surged around in her body. She charged forward, the earth seeming to shudder beneath her sheer intensity as she closed the distance with relentless determination. But before she could reach Everok, his mastery of the void law unfolded like a stroke of the painter's brush across the canvas, space bending to his will as his form dissolved into a blur before materializing behind her with supernatural precision.
It was the speed of a striking snake that spun Onyxelle to meet him, instinctive and powerful, her entire body in a fluid flow. Yet Everok's cunning outweighed her reaction; before her blade found its mark, he disappeared once more, reemerging like a phantom at the front of her. His fist struck her gut with bone-crushing force and sent a thunderous shockwave across the arena. Onyxelle's body folded inward, her head bowing as pain rippled through her, stealing her breath.
But Everok, ruthless and unyielding, gave her no reprieve. His second punch landed on her bowed face, snapping her head upward with a brutal impact that left the crowd wincing. Onyxelle stumbled, composure fast crumbling, and swung her desperate void blade in shimmering edges of lethal energy. Yet he was absolutely in control. Everok ducked the strike almost as if it was slow motion, and his form blurred in segments of calculated movement.
He followed it up with another cruel punch at her left side, with the swiftness of a predator. The strike sent her body into shudders like a seismic wave, and she was made to falter. Onyxelle's Essentia energy, the very essence that coursed through her veins like lifeblood, betrayed her, spilling forth in vivid trails. A sudden yellow streak materialized beneath her nose, and it was as if the arena held its breath-a stark reminder of the price paid for this exchange of savagery.
Every eye was glued to the fighters, the crowd held tightly in the power, the precision, and the unending determination that burned within them both. The intensity of the battle was a flame that seared into the minds of all who bore witness, leaving them spellbound by the primal ferocity of the clash.
Onyxelle's eyes caught Everok's, and the faintest smile suddenly curled her lips. "Hahaha, you were correct. I should not have been this arrogant from the very start," she said, her lips bubbling with laughter just like embers reigniting. Her laughter grew loud, almost maniacal, cutting through the dense tension. "Please, forgive my rudeness. I'll take this seriously from here on," she added, her tone shifting to one of icy resolve as she crossed both void blades in a defensive X across her chest.
Everok's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade. "That doesn't change anything. You've already lost the game," he replied, his words devoid of arrogance, their sharpness etched with unshakable certainty.
They charged, a clash of wills against a silent, breathless crowd. Onyxelle was textbook perfect in her stance, but her movements told another story: slow, faltering, weakened from the wear and tear of their previous exchange.
Everok hoped to end this fight definitively and folded space around himself. He activated the Lexis of Void Step: Traverse, a technique making him a blur of motion unto the point of un-grabability and instantaneity. His punch was projected forward, aimed with deadly precision to Onyxelle's exposed belly, only to stop mid-air, hindered by an unseen and insurmountable force.
A shimmering ripple surrounded Onyxelle, and her lips curled into a defiant smirk. "Lexis of Void Edge: Void Barrier," she whispered, her voice laced with satisfaction. Everok's surprise flickered briefly in his eyes, the momentary lapse in focus leaving him vulnerable
Taking full advantage, Onyxelle surged forward with sudden ferocity, driving her knee into his chest with the force of a battering ram. The force of the impact sent Everok flying off the ground, his breath stolen along with the collective gasp of the crowd. Without so much as a pause, she followed through with a quick kick to his head-the blow flipping him mid-air, sending him crashing down to the ground in a roll of motionless disbelief. The collision echoed around the arena like thunder and shook its very foundations.
Everok struggled to rise, but the sharp edge of Onyxelle's void blade was already inches from his throat-a gleaming threat that froze him in place. Her calculated strike silenced the arena instantly, like the abrupt cessation of a raging storm. The once-bustling crowd fell into a silence so profound it seemed as though the very air had been stolen, their disbelief heavy enough to be felt.