Zephyrion cracked his arms, clenching his fists as he stretched his body with a slight groan, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Kid, is that all you've got?" The voice boomed with mockery, a storm warning approaching. "This is nothing compared to the tricks and moves you've been showing me for the past few years."
He took a few deliberated steps forward, never removing his eyes from his son as Nyxander stood there, frustration etched across his face. "Don't pull that tired act with me. I've known you for fifteen years now, and I can tell how exceptional your stamina is—rivals mine, even." The words hung heavy in the air between them, weighted with a history of years spent watching Nyxander grow.
Nyxander, feeling the heat of his father's words, sighed in frustration, dusting the sand off his naked body. "Fine," he muttered under his breath, his expression hardening with determination. "Just the right timing, then. I've got a move I've been working on, and this is the perfect moment to test it."
His body shimmered with a powerful glow as white lightning crackled across his skin, harder than ever before. The light cascaded down his broad chest, traveling through the well-defined muscles of his pack, sending a thrill of energy through the air as if the storm inside him was about to break free.
"Lexis of the Abyssal Projection." Nyxander's voice boomed, a herald of change. He let his Essentia release through his feet, and the space beneath him rippled and quivered, as if reality itself struggled to contain the energy within him. Unstable shockwaves pulsed outwards, vibrating with the intensity of a brewing storm.
He bent slightly, the tension in his body like that of a hero preparing to leap into the unknown, crackling with the energy of lightning. "Void-lock," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly, Zephyrion felt the shift immediately-the void around him twisted unnaturally, tightening like an invisible snare coiling around its prey.
"Empty Strides-PT 01 Launch," Nyxander growled. The unstable space beneath his feet exploded with power, propelling him like a missile shot from the bow of a warship. As he sailed, he contorted his body, shrinking his form to maximize the force behind his flight-a calculated effort in a bid to harness every ounce of energy. His right fist clenched, and within it, the power was rising-like a high tide.
Then, as he moved downwards to meet his father, Nyxander extended his form once more, larger in size, increasing the downward pull with gravity working to his advantage.
"Void Thunder Fist." Nyxander's right fist exploded in a violent burst of lightning, tearing through the void with a deafening crack. In that moment, when his fist collided with Zephyrion, it was as if a missile had struck its target, a violent, explosive impact that shook the very air, sending a massive cloud of dust billowing outward, obscuring everything in a haze of power and chaos.
The dust cleared slowly, and against the gloom in dissipating shades, two figures emerged, striking silhouettes. Zephyrion stood unwavering, his left hand easily grasping Nyxander's charged fist. But the earth beneath his feet betrayed the force of the blow-a great crater bowing under his weight. Nyxander hung mid-air, his legs upswept, his fist captured in his father's iron grasp.
"Ah," Zephyrion rumbled in a low, deep voice with underpinnings of humor. "You never stop impressing me, boy." His right hand flexed, his muscles coiling like a spring as he drew back the arm. "Then let me reward you with this," he said, before shooting a titanic punch out, hurtling across the air like a meteor that had been torn loose from the firmament.
But just as the huge fist shot toward Nyxander's face, a snide laugh escaped his lips. "Heh… heh," Nyxander snickered, his eyes gleaming with calculated defiance. In one swift, fluid motion, he contracted his body, slipping free of his father's unyielding grip.
The gust of wind from Zephyrion's colossal strike propelled Nyxander backward, flipping him mid-air like a leaf caught in a tempest. With a body expanded by practiced control, he landed easily upon his feet, sliding backward as heels were dug into the ground to steady himself.
"You think I would not consider you grabbing my hand?" Nyxander says with assurance in his tone as a smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth.
The thought had no sooner taken hold of his mind, when in a blur, Zephyrion whipped up in his face, a tempest shutting in. "Since when do you bend the law?" -Zephyrion's eyes weighed, like the mountain pressed upon Nyxander.
The air around them grew tight, thick with unsaid emotions. Nyxander swallowed hard, meeting his father's gaze as sweat beaded upon his brow. "Two years ago," he admitted, but his voice faltered when Zephyrion cut in.
"Promise me you won't try that again until you reach the Ascendant Realm," Zephyrion said, sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument.
"But-" Nyxander began, the defiance bursting forth to the surface, was cut off again.
"Just promise me you won't," Zephyrion persisted, his voice like thunder in the stillness, carrying a father's fierce concern.
A long, crackling silence fell between them, the tension crackling like the remnants of Nyxander's dissipated lightning. Their gazes met; unspoken words crashed together like opposing forces in a storm. Sighing heavily, Nyxander finally broke the stalemate. "Fine," he finally agreed reluctantly, his tone low. "I will not manipulate the laws before I break through to the Ascendant Realm.
A slight, small smile softened Zephyrion's firm expression, and he placed a strong hand on his son's shoulder. "You will understand, in time," he said, even and weighty with the wisdom carried through experience.
And so they stood for moments, the silence between them easing, their father and son bond a palpable one in the stillness. Then their brief respite was rent asunder by a sharp voice cutting through the air.
"Sir, it's time.
Both Zephyrion and Nyxander turned toward the sound. A figure stood in the distance, his presence commanding yet calm.
"You're here, Umbrazel," Zephyrion said with a faint smile and a short nod. His tone carried familiarity as he gestured toward the figure. With purpose in their steps, father and son began walking toward the exit of the independent world, leaving behind the echoes of their moment.