Under the great, velvet blanket of the blue-dark galaxy, a myriad of stars twinkled like diamonds in the heavens, weaving a tapestry of cosmic wonder. Meteor rocks streaked across the heavens while the luminous Milky Way stretched majestically, painting the firmament with its ethereal glow. Comets danced through this astral symphony, trailing fiery tails that illuminated the void.
Beneath this celestial masterpiece, Nyxander roamed through the sprawling residences of his clan. Awe shone bright in his eyes as he whirled, his gaze drinking in titanic buildings made out of resplendent marble stones and rare, radiant minerals that seemed to live a life of their own at each surface.
Immersed in his exploration, he failed to notice as he wandered into a bustling district teeming with the vibrant energy of Primordials. The air buzzed with life as towering figures moved with purpose.
Suddenly, he almost collided with a massive Primordial striding past. "Hey, kid, watch where you're going! You shouldn't even be here," the Primordial grumbled, casting Nyxander a fleeting, judgmental glance. "I wonder what those nannies at the Primordial Baby Care are doing, letting a little one like you slip away."
But Nyxander barely heard the scolding. His interest blazed hotter than any sting of humiliation as he darted through the crowd, his diminutive form all but swallowed by the mountainous giants closing in from every side. He moved with difficulty, ducking and weaving through the endless sea of legs, until his ears picked up the snippet of a conversation:.
"Look at that thing hanging between that kid's legs! Is that some sort of Essentia crystal pouch he's got there?"
Nyxander froze, his heart pounding. His head swiveled toward the source of the voice, his wide eyes locking onto two agile Primordial males, each towering an intimidating forty feet high. One of them pointed directly at him, his enormous finger aimed squarely at Nyxander's exposed lower half.
"Hey, kid! Let us see that unique pouch of yours," the Primordial boomed, his voice dripping with mockery, his hand still gesturing toward Nyxander's private area.
A flush of deep crimson crawled up Nyxander's cheeks. Mortified, he instinctively clutched himself, shielding his dignity as best he could. The weight of their taunting stares bore down on him like a crushing tide.
"I do not understand what sick tradition or trial it is that forces me to stay naked until I come of age," he grumbled, ashamed and frustrated. He said nothing more but took off in a run, his small feet slapping on the glimmering streets as he disappeared from the jeering mirth of the tall Primordials.
He slowed down gradually as the throngs of Primordials thickened around him, their towering forms closing in like an unyielding forest of titanic pillars. To get through them became a trial of endurance; every step was a struggle against the weight of their presence.
"Why is this place so much more crowded when it looks no different from the other districts I've passed through?" he muttered under his breath, thoughts racing like a storm-clouded sky.
His musings were soon cut off by the bellow of a Primordial as his call echoed through the air, resounding as if an echoing drum had boomed.
The Primordial sat on a throne-like marble chair facing an enormous circular building, its expanse rivaling a colosseum of sorts; a table in the same shimmering stone was positioned before him. It loomed, curving, gleaming-the rest of some massive beast. Its every line and curve spoke to an otherworldly grandeur.
"The match will soon begin! Place your bets now with just three Essentia crystals for the entrance fee!" bellowed the Primordial, the weight of authority and excitement lacing his voice.
A line of eager Primordials snaked before him, each immense figure towering in anticipation as they paid their fees, received tickets, and placed their bets. The crowd surged like a tide, the energy thick with the scent of competition and opportunity.
Smarting from the earlier humiliation of being dismissed as a child, Nyxander's determination flared. He barely hesitated, shrinking down to the size of an ordinary human infant-a small shadow drifting toward the entrance. He slipped through the towering crowd like a wisp of smoke, dodging the colossal feet that threatened to trample him with every step. His small size and nimble movements made him a phantom among giants.
Once inside the shadowed walkway that led into the building, he allowed himself to return to his original size. The path stretched before him like the throat of a slumbering leviathan, dim and foreboding; the echo of his steps swallowed by the vastness around him. It took him twenty minutes of weaving through the labyrinthine passages before the dim light of the outside world gave way to a brilliant glow ahead.
Bursting through the final opening, he found himself in a breathtaking interior. The sheer scale of the place stole his breath. It was unmistakably reminiscent of a football stadium, yet its grandeur surpassed mortal comprehension. Towering seats for the audience wrapped around the arena in an unbroken circle, their shimmering design crafted with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and glow under the cosmic light filtering from above.
But the wonder of it all lay with the arena itself: a thick, rich soil lay beneath, alive with possibilities, its surface crossed by thin streaks of glowing Essentia energy. Two huge entrances faced each other at opposite ends of the arena, as if the mouths of enormous beasts were about to spring open and unleash their inner fury. Above it all, the murmur of the crowd began to swell and filled the air with anticipation.
Nyxander's eyes darted about, the fire of his youth once more burning bright within his veins as he took in the grandeur of the scene. The roaring energy above, the daunting silence of the arena below, and the enigmatic gates standing as sentinels to untold stories wrapped around him like a cloak of intrigue.
He was still transfixed on the scene when a boisterous voice cut through the rising din of the crowd like a knife through mist. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and honorable Primordials! The show is about to begin!" A man was suspended on a fabric of space above the arena, commanding attention like a celestial herald. "I am Zarok, your Ring Announcer for this grand event!" He bowed slightly, crossing his arms in a ceremonial 'V' across his chest before continuing. "Now, our first warrior: Everok!"
The name resounded through the space, met with a thunderous cheer from the audience. A towering Primordial, standing an imposing fifty-five feet tall, strode out from the left entrance.
His dark blue Eternalsilk garment clung to his colossal frame, shimmering like a midnight ocean, flowing seamlessly down to form boots that resonated with every step. Everok leapt into the air, spinning with practiced grace before landing with a resounding thud that reverberated through the arena.
"An Ascendant Realm Primordial!" Zarok exclaimed in fervor as Everok paraded around the arena. He flexed his muscles, a living monument to power, as the ecstatic screams of his fans filled the air. His right fist pounded against his chest in a feral salute, a gesture of unyielding loyalty to his supporters.
Energy radiated from his battle suit, shimmering with a vitality that seemed almost alive. He strode into the center of the arena, tall and proud, his eyes locked with the far entrance as anticipation crackled like static in the air.
"Next, we have Onyxelle!" Zarok's voice boomed again.
The crowd roared anew as from the right entrance emerged a female Primordial of similar height, her bright orange colored battle suit gleaming like molten lava. It wrapped around the athletic build in his suit seamlessly, merging perfectly into her boots and radiating the spirit of fierce elegance.
Suddenly she jumped explosively, flying across the air while her body arced delicately, skidding in a dramatic roll upon the heavy, rich soil. Springing up into her feet, she raised her arms high with her name on every onyx lips chanted with unison in support for her. Her eyes blazed with intensity, every movement an expression of confidence and controlled power.
Both combatants stood at opposite ends of the arena, their massive forms radiating an intimidating aura of Essentia energy that rippled across the stadium like an invisible storm. The crowd's anticipation reached a fever pitch as the Ring Announcer's voice rang out. "Three… two… one… Start!"
The air held its breath as the fighters surged forward, right fists connecting with a deafening crack. The resultant shockwave was a tempest-a raw, violent gust that surged through the arena, forcing spectators to shield their faces or risk being swept away. Nyxander's slighter frame, vulnerable in the chaos, instinctively ducked behind a towering spectator, clutching the massive figure like a ship in a storm clutching its anchor.
The crowd roared in approval as the clash of titans shook the very foundation of the arena, promising an unforgettable battle.