Northbook Court Mall,
Northbook, Illinois,
Terra, Gaea Solar system,
Neutral Free zone,
March 27th 2019
Leon's hand rested on the intricate scabbard of Solus, the golden and white masterpiece that housed his precious blade. The scabbard glimmered faintly in the dim light, a testament to its craftsmanship and the storied power it concealed. His fingers tightened as he steadied himself, his mind sifting through the options available to him. His heart stirred at the thought of invoking Heavenly Radiance, the Combat Art that bore the pride and legacy of his family. It was a technique of unparalleled brilliance, blending his ability factor with Elemental Magic to create a dazzling display of power. But power came at a cost.
Heavenly Radiance demanded an immense reservoir of mana—mana Leon simply couldn't afford to expend. His failing health was a constant shadow, a reminder that his limits were no longer just theoretical. Each reckless surge of energy brought him closer to the edge, and he couldn't afford to lose control now. Not here. Not yet. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. Instead of raw, overwhelming force, he would rely on finesse mixed with speed. He chose a Combat Art that required not sheer mana reserves but a master's touch—delicate, precise, and efficient. The technique pulsed in his mind, a whisper of elegant movements and perfectly measured mana control. It wasn't the most imposing of choices, but it was the right one.
As the resolve solidified within him, Solus seemed to hum faintly in its scabbard, as if it, too, approved of his decision. Leon's eyes narrowed, his grip firm. He wouldn't need overwhelming power. Precision would suffice. It always had. Leon's lips moved silently, the words forming in his mind like a mantra:
Io Style: First Form: Swift Bolt.
In an instant, the air around him seemed to shift, crackling with faint energy as he activated the attack technique—a relic of his childhood training at the Io Dojo. Those days had been formative, a time before his enrollment at the Ascendant Academy, before life became tangled in the complexities of duty and legacy. The lessons from Io had left a mark, shaping his combat instincts into something sharp, precise, and devastatingly efficient. A sudden flash of white light burst forth from Solus's scabbard, so quick and dazzling that no one could discern when Leon had drawn the blade—or if he even had. To the untrained eye, it seemed as though the light itself had taken form, slicing through the battlefield like a divine judgment.
The strike was flawless. A single, one-dimensional slash carried forward at blinding speed, its path unerring and merciless. In the blink of an eye, the arc of energy carved through five of the Mid-rank Abominations, their monstrous forms frozen for a heartbeat before they fell, severed and lifeless. The precision was staggering, the execution as smooth as it was deadly. The battlefield fell silent for a brief moment as if the world itself had paused to acknowledge the mastery displayed in that single strike. Solus's blade hummed faintly, resonating with the remnants of the unleashed power before Leon returned it to its scabbard in a seamless motion. Leon exhaled softly, his grip on the hilt firm but steady. The toll on his body was slight—Swift Bolt was a technique that demanded precision, not raw mana reserves. Yet the sheer elegance of its execution reminded him of why the Io Dojo's teachings had become an inseparable part of his combat repertoire. There would be more enemies. There always were. But for now, the battlefield was his to command.
On the other side of the battlefield, Emily was a blur of motion, a storm of steel and savagery. Her twin shortswords, the Quasi-mythical blades she had painstakingly forged herself, gleamed with an otherworldly light as they tore through the ranks of Abominations. Every swing, every strike was precise and lethal, a testament to her mastery and unyielding determination. Her movements were almost too fast for the eye to follow, a seamless blend of speed, agility, and raw power. The blades slashed through necks, carving arteries and silencing monstrous roars before they could form. They plunged into guts, spilling black ichor onto the ground, and cleaved through ribs as though bone and sinew were nothing more than brittle paper. Every part of her enemies became a target, and Emily spared none.
Her Combat Art, honed to deadly perfection, wove through her strikes like an intricate dance, amplifying the ferocity of her attacks. It was a style uniquely her own, forged through countless battles and hours of grueling practice. The twin swords became an extension of her will, their deadly arcs leaving trails of faint energy in the air. Each strike was a symphony of violence, a precise note played in the rhythm of destruction. The Abominations tried to overwhelm her with sheer numbers, but Emily was unstoppable. Her savagery was unrelenting, each slash faster and more brutal than the last. Her eyes burned with an intense focus, her every movement flowing with purpose. She didn't hesitate, didn't falter. There was no room for mercy here—only survival.
Around her, the ground was littered with the lifeless, broken bodies of the creatures that had dared to challenge her. Their once-terrifying forms were now nothing more than unrecognizable heaps of gore. Emily bathed in the light of her relentless fury, and stood as a beacon of unyielding strength, her breathing steady despite the chaos. She flicked the black blood off her blades in a sharp, practiced motion, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she glanced toward Leon.
"Try to keep up," Emily muttered, her voice laced with equal parts teasing and determination. Without waiting for a reply, she plunged back into the chaos, her twin shortswords cutting a path through the Abominations with savage precision. Leon couldn't help but chuckle softly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. Emily was a force of nature, no doubt about it, but there was something different about her today. It wasn't just her skill—he'd always known she was one of the most capable fighters he'd ever met. No, it was the expression on her face.
For as long as he had known her, Emily had worn a mask of stoic calm, her emotions guarded, her demeanor always composed. Yet now, in the heart of battle, she radiated a kind of exhilaration he'd never seen before. Her eyes sparkled with a fierce joy, her lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible grin. She looked... alive. It was as though the thrill of combat had awakened something within her, something primal and unrestrained. The contrast was striking—this was a side of Emily that Leon rarely, if ever, got to see. And, oddly enough, it was contagious. For a moment, the weight of his struggles lifted as he watched her move with such passion and freedom.
"Who would've thought," Leon murmured to himself, shaking his head with an amused smile. "Stoic Emily, actually enjoying herself." But the battlefield left little room for reflection. As much as he admired her newfound enthusiasm, there was still work to be done. Tightening his grip on Solus, Leon turned back to the fray, his resolve firm. If Emily was setting the pace, then he'd gladly rise to meet it.
Watching the movements of his childhood friends, Rex couldn't suppress the wave of nostalgia that washed over him. Memories of their school days, of the laughter, rivalries, and shared dreams, flooded his mind. For a fleeting moment, he wasn't standing amidst a battlefield of chaos and death but on the training grounds of their youth, competing against Leon and Emily in friendly duels. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. Some things never change.
But there was no time to linger in the past. Snapping back to the present, Rex launched himself into the air with a burst of explosive power, his figure silhouetted against the roiling flames he summoned to life. Crimson fire swirled around his fist, crackling with raw, unrelenting energy as he activated one of his signature Elemental Spells.
[Flame Creation: Dragon Claw Strike]
The air around him roared as a blazing inferno took the shape of a dragon's claw, its fiery talons radiating destructive power. With a thunderous motion, Rex hurled the blazing construct downward. The impact was cataclysmic. The crimson dragon claw crashed into a cluster of Abominations, consuming them in an instant. The flames surged outward, a searing wave of heat and destruction that burned through the creatures as though they were nothing more than dry leaves caught in a wildfire. Screeches of anguish filled the air as the abominations disintegrated beneath the unrelenting blaze.
The devastation was breathtaking, even by the standards of the battlefield. Rex's attack didn't merely rival what Leon and Emily had accomplished—it surpassed it, leaving behind the scorched ground and a lingering aura of dominance. The sheer scale of his power reminded anyone watching why he had become the youngest Master Realm Star Knight in the history of Starlight. Hovering for a moment amidst the dissipating embers, Rex glanced down at the aftermath of his attack. His smile returned, though this time it was tinged with bittersweet reflection. With a sharp inhale, Rex steadied his thoughts. The battle wasn't over yet. His flames burned brighter as he prepared for the next wave, his focus sharpening. Whatever nostalgia lingered would have to wait—there was still work to do.
Stationed high above the chaos, Freya perched in the shadows of a corner that gave her a commanding bird's-eye view of the battlefield. Her bowstring hummed as she drew it back, releasing a volley of mana-constructed arrows with fluid precision. Each arrow streaked through the air like a beam of light, piercing through the Abominations and cutting them down with deadly efficiency. From her vantage point, Freya was not merely a participant in the battle—she was its overseer, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. As she loosed another arrow, her focus shifted momentarily from the creatures below to the Pleiadians fighting alongside her. Two of them hailed from Named Families, their bloodlines steeped in power and history, their prowess reflecting the greatness of their heritage. Yet it wasn't Leon or Rex that truly held her attention—it was Emily.
Emily, who came from nothing.
Freya's gaze narrowed as she studied the young woman. By all accounts, Emily was supposed to be average—an unremarkable Pleiadian with an equally unremarkable Celestial lineage. And yet, nothing about her performance on the battlefield spoke of mediocrity. Quite the opposite. The twin shortswords in Emily's hands caught Freya's eye first. Their craftsmanship was unmistakably extraordinary. The elegant, almost ethereal design of the blades exuded power, their edges gleaming with an intensity that marked them as no ordinary weapons. It didn't take long for Freya to recognize their grade: Mythical. But it wasn't just their rarity that struck her—it was the composition. The blades were forged from a blend of Adamant and Seriphium, a feat so complex and demanding that only the most skilled Forgemasters could hope to achieve it. The revelation sent a ripple of surprise through Freya. How had Emily, of all people, acquired such a masterpiece?
But the weapons weren't the only mystery. Freya's sharp eyes lingered on Emily's movements, taking in every slash, every step, every calculated strike. Her physical prowess had undergone a staggering transformation. The last time they had fought, Emily had been at the peak of the Master Realm, formidable but still bound by the limitations of her rank. And yet here she was, displaying a level of power and skill that defied explanation. It didn't make sense. Those at the peak of a realm were constrained by its natural limits—no matter how skilled or determined, breaking past those barriers required ascending to the next realm. But Emily was still a Master, not a Sage. Freya could sense it, could feel it in the faint aura Emily exuded. And yet her strikes, her speed, her sheer strength—they were far beyond what a Master should be capable of.
Freya released another arrow, her expression tightening as her thoughts swirled. What she was witnessing wasn't just improvement—it was something else entirely. Something unnatural. She frowned, her eyes narrowing further. What are you hiding, Emily? For now, the battle raged on, and Freya had no time to dwell on her questions. But as she continued her vigil, one thing became clear: Emily was no longer the same person she had fought before. And Freya intended to uncover the truth—one way or another. Even if she had to kill her again.
****
As the group eliminated the Mid Abominations, they pressed forward into the Bravo Courts of the Mall. The encroachment of the Infernal Realm had drastically warped the mall's interior. What once was a mundane commercial space had transformed into an unsettling labyrinth of twisted geometry and endless corridors. The spatial distortion defied all logic—though the exterior of the mall remained deceptively compact, the inside had expanded into a sprawling, otherworldly expanse. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the high ceilings, and the air felt heavier, tinged with a faint, acrid heat that prickled against their skin. Walls that once divided the food courts and boutiques now gave way to cavernous halls, some spiraling into eerie voids. The scent of scorched metal and sulfur wafted through the air, further reminding the group that this was no longer a mere shopping mall but a battleground shaped by the Infernal Realm's sinister influence. Each step forward brought unease, as distant echoes of guttural growls and whispers bounced off the warped walls. The group knew that while the Mid Abominations had been dealt with, greater horrors likely awaited them in the unnervingly vast space ahead.
As they approached the shadowed corridors leading to Alpha Court, where the Beast King awaited, an explosion erupted from above, shattering the tense silence. The blast sent shards of debris raining down, and through the billowing smoke, something streaked toward them like a meteor. A guttural roar echoed through the mall, raw and deafening, rolling like a storm. The sheer intensity of the sound seemed to shake the walls, causing flickering light fixtures to sway. Then came the voice—a voice filled with primal fury, amplified by power.
"LEONARD HARAVOK! SHOW YOURSELF!"
The shout reverberated with enough force to make the ground tremble. Before they could react, a massive figure plummeted from the smoke-filled ceiling, a blur of shadow and force, aiming straight for the group. The impact alone could have split the earth, but Rex was faster. In a fluid motion, Rex lunged forward, his arms raised, catching the incoming strike with both hands. Twin fists, like hammers, slammed into Rex's palms with the force of a cataclysm. The ground beneath them buckled, and cracks spiderwebbed outward from the epicenter. A deafening boom followed, shaking the air and sending a shockwave through the court.
The force of the impact drove Rex back slightly, his boots grinding against the shattered tiles, but he held firm, his muscles taut like coiled steel. The crater that formed around his feet told of the immense power he was holding back. The figure—a towering beast of a man cloaked in smoke and ash—lifted his head. Glowing crimson eyes locked onto Rex, filled with unyielding rage and a singular purpose. His voice boomed again, this time colder, more deliberate.
"Stand aside, Star Knight. My quarrel is not with you. Bring me Leonard Haravok, or I will tear this place apart until he comes to me."
Rex's jaw tightened as he pushed back against the sheer weight of the figure's fists, his voice calm but commanding.
"You'll have to go through me first."
The air grew heavy with tension, charged with the promise of violence. The group instinctively readied themselves, knowing this was only the beginning of the battle ahead.
You guys go ahead," Rex said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "I'll handle this."
Leon glanced at him for a moment, then gave a sharp nod. "Fine," he replied, his voice calm but laced with a sense of urgency. Without wasting another second, Leon and the others pressed forward, their footsteps echoing through the fractured corridors as they made their way to Alpha Court. But Patau, the hulking ape-like beast, had other plans. His glowing crimson eyes locked onto Leon as he retreated, a seething rage boiling over within him. With a guttural snarl, Patau lunged, his massive frame moving with terrifying speed for his size, intent on reaching Leon.
"RAAAAAARGH!" the beast roared, his fury blinding him to everything else.
Rex moved swiftly, tightening his grip on Patau's massive fist before it could leave his hold. The impact of the struggle sent a fresh wave of shockwaves rippling across the already shattered ground. Rex's stance didn't falter as he held the ape beast in place, his body a wall of unyielding resolve. Patau snarled, baring his jagged teeth, and turned his burning red eyes to Rex. Malice and hatred radiated from his glare, his other fist rising to strike, but Rex's unwavering grip kept him locked in place.
"You're not going anywhere," Rex said, his voice low but cutting.
The ape beast roared again, this time putting all his strength into breaking free of Rex's grasp. He pushed back, his massive arms bulging with raw power as he tried to overpower the red-haired Pleiadian. But as soon as Patau exerted force, a sharp, stinging sensation shot through his fist. Patau snarled in pain and confusion as smoke rose from his flesh. His massive hand burned where Rex held it, the searing heat emanating from Rex's palms intensifying. The heat wasn't natural—it was concentrated, deliberate, and meant to punish.
"That's not going to work," Rex said, his fiery red hair seeming to glow as his heat aura flared. His voice carried an edge of calm dominance, a quiet warning that even a beast as furious as Patau couldn't ignore. The ape beast's fiery eyes flickered with uncertainty for the briefest moment as the pain from Rex's heat deepened. Still, his rage-fueled determination remained. The battle between the two titans was far from over, but for now, Rex stood as an immovable barrier between the beast and Leon. With a massive surge of effort, Patau wrenched his fist free from Rex's iron grip, the motion sending tremors through the ground. The beast leaped back, putting a few paces of distance between them as he sized up his opponent. His crimson eyes burned with fury, but there was a flicker of caution now—a recognition of the threat before him.
"You're a Pendragon," Patau growled, his deep voice reverberating through the shattered corridor. He flexed his massive fingers, the scorched marks from Rex's grip still smoldering. "A family of dragon descendants... who also dared to slay dragons. The irony."
Rex's lips curled into a faint, confident smirk. "I'm glad you know that about me."
With those words, a fiery crimson flame erupted around Rex's clenched fist. The heat was palpable, the flames licking hungrily at the air as they grew in intensity. Then, with a crackling roar, the fire twisted and shaped itself, forming the head of a dragon—a vivid, blazing image of primal power. The crimson dragon's maw snapped open and shut, its fiery eyes glowing with the same unrelenting resolve as Rex's. The heat radiating from the manifestation made the air shimmer, and the ground beneath Rex's feet glowed faintly, unable to contain the sheer energy he was channeling.
"Then you know what's coming," Rex said, his voice steady, each word carrying an unspoken warning. Patau bared his jagged teeth, his muscles tensing as he shifted into a combative stance. Despite his earlier bravado, there was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of understanding that the opponent before him was far more dangerous than he'd anticipated.
The air between them grew heavy with tension, the space seeming to shrink as both combatants prepared to clash. The flame dragon around Rex's fist snarled silently, its presence a harbinger of the battle to come.
"Tell me something," Rex said, his tone calm yet edged with curiosity. The crimson flames flickered around his dragon-shaped fist, casting eerie shadows against the cracked walls. "Why are you after Leon?"
Patau snarled, his massive chest heaving as his red eyes burned with hatred. "Haravok killed my brother," he growled. "Though Apou was weak for losing, the honor of my clan demands blood. For that honor, Leonard Haravok must die."
"Honor, huh?" Rex muttered, a faint, sardonic smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a moment, his thoughts wandered to his own family, the Pendragons. Once a proud bloodline, their name had been dragged through the mud. Rex, more than anyone, understood the weight of a tarnished legacy and the drive to restore it. Still, he shook his head and refocused on Patau.
"I get it," Rex admitted, his voice softening slightly. "I really do. But..." His eyes hardened, his fiery aura intensifying as the crimson dragon's head around his fist roared to life. "I can't let you kill my brother."
Patau tilted his massive head, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Brother? I did not know that the Haravok and Pendragon bloodlines had combined," he said, his voice tinged with both surprise and suspicion. Rex chuckled faintly, the sound dry and almost nostalgic.
"We're not blood brothers," he clarified, lowering his stance slightly but keeping his guard up. "Leon and I were raised together. Trained under the same Warrior. Jonathan Haravok."
At the mention of Jonathan's name, Patau's expression shifted. Recognition flickered in his crimson eyes, mixed with a begrudging respect. "Jonathan Haravok... the Legendary Sunblade," Patau rumbled, his voice carrying an edge of reverence. "A fierce warrior. It is no wonder his sons—blood or otherwise—stand in my way."
"Then you know what kind of fight you're in for," Rex said, his grin returning, this time sharper, almost predatory. "You're not getting to Leon. Not while I'm standing here."
Without warning, Rex's fist shot forward, his entire arm a blur of motion as the fiery crimson dragon encircling his hand tore through the air with a deafening roar. The heat surged in an instant, filling the space with the crackling sound of flames as the unleashed torrent of fire shot directly toward Patau.
"Raaaagh!" The roar of the dragon echoed like a war cry, threatening to engulf everything in its path. But Patau was ready. With a swift motion, he summoned the dark, oppressive energy of the Infernal Realm. Twisting his wrist, black infernal constructs formed around his fist like a massive, jagged gauntlet—a shield forged from the depths of his own rage. The gauntlet crackled with malevolent power, and with a grunt, Patau raised it in front of him, just as the sea of crimson flame reached him. The collision was cataclysmic. The flames collided with the infernal gauntlet, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The heat of Rex's attack sizzled against the dark constructs, but the gauntlet held firm, the infernal energy warping and shifting like a living thing to absorb the flames' force. The air around them shimmered from the sheer intensity of their clash, the smell of burnt ozone mixing with the stench of sulfur.
Patau gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he pushed back against the onslaught. The infernal constructs groaned under the pressure, the black energy swirling violently to counteract the scorching heat. But despite his strength, Patau could feel the ground beneath his feet crack and shift under the sheer power of Rex's attack.
"Not bad," Rex said through gritted teeth, his smirk wide as he maintained his stance, his hand still outstretched, controlling the dragon flames. "But you'll need more than that to stop me." Patau's eyes burned with fury as he held his ground.
"I'll tear you apart, Pendragon," he growled, his infernal gauntlet shifting and contorting in an attempt to push back the flames. With a massive effort, Patau pushed against the crimson flames, forcing the infernal constructs to divide the raging fire into two different directions. The explosion of flame burst behind the ape beast, sending waves of heat and force ripping through the air like a thunderclap. But Rex wasn't done.
His hand shot forward with blinding speed, seizing one of Patau's massive arms in a vice-like grip. With the raw might of a Pendragon, Rex twisted, using Patau's own momentum against him. In one fluid motion, he flipped the massive beast through the air, slamming him down into the ground with a sickening crash. The impact of the slam sent a shockwave surging out in all directions, rippling through the debris-strewn court. The ground cracked beneath them as Rex stood tall, his crimson flame still swirling around him like a protective aura. But just as Rex took a breath, a new danger surged toward him. From the shockwave, Patau's monstrous fist shot through the air, moving faster than Rex could react. With a resounding crack, the blow made brutal contact with Rex's face. The impact was so powerful that it sent Rex flying backward, crashing into the nearby wall with an explosion of debris. The force of the collision left a deep crater in the wall, chunks of concrete and stone falling like a rain of destruction.
Rex's body lay motionless for a split second, but the damage was far from permanent. Blood streamed from his chin, the force of the blow exposing the muscle beneath. The wound was deep, but almost instantly, Rex's body began to heal. The bleeding stopped, and the torn muscle regrew with a speed that defied logic—faster than even an Ascendant in the Awakening phase could manage. His body hummed with the impossible vitality of those in the Immortal phase, his healing factor working faster than most could comprehend. Rex rose slowly, wiping the blood from his chin with a grim smile. His eyes locked on Patau, a cold fire burning within them.
"Is that the best you've got, beast?" he said, his voice low and even, despite the evident pain he had just endured.