Northbook Court Mall,
Northbook, Illinois,
Terra, Gaea Solar system,
Neutral Free zone,
March 27th 2019
As Leon, Emily, and Freya entered the labyrinthine halls of Alpha Court, the atmosphere grew heavier with each hurried step they took as they ran. The acrid stench of decay filled the air, and the eerie glow of pulsating veins along the walls betrayed the presence of the Abominations lurking nearby. They moved cautiously, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the oppressive silence. Approaching a sharp corner where the path bent sharply into darkness, Freya slipped from the rear to the front, her bow already drawn with practiced ease. Her amber eyes gleamed with focus, and in a single, fluid motion, she loosed five arrows. The projectiles split the air with a hiss, each finding its mark in the twisted forms of the lesser and Mid Realm Abominations. The creatures shrieked and gurgled as the arrows pierced through their malformed heads and torsos, pinning some to the grotesque walls before they slumped lifeless to the ground. Emily darted forward without hesitation, her movements a deadly symphony of grace and precision. Her twin shortswords gleamed under the dim light as they sliced through the Abominations with unerring accuracy. She moved like a dancer, spinning, weaving, and striking with flawless timing, each stroke of her blades cutting down another foe. The ichor of the creatures splattered across her path, but she didn't falter—her expression calm, her movements fluid.
Leon, towering behind them, held Solus's scabbard and as he drew her out, he unleashed his power into a blazing white beam of light. It surged forward with a crackling roar, obliterating everything in its path. Heads rolled, torsos were cleaved apart, and the Abominations disintegrated under the searing energy. The air sizzled, and the ground was scorched where the beam had struck, the sheer power of the Io Combat Art's first form leaving no room for survival.
As the last of the creatures fell, the trio regrouped. The battlefield around them was a grotesque mess of charred flesh, ichor-streaked stone, and the acrid smoke of destruction. Leon wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, Solus back in her Scabbard. Emily flicked her blades clean with a casual snap of her wrists, while Freya's eyes remained fixed ahead, her calm demeanor betraying none of the carnage they'd just unleashed.
"We're getting closer," Leon murmured, his voice steady. "The Beast King will know we're here now."
"Do you think it was wise for Rex to stay behind?" Freya asked as their feet pounded against the cold stone floor, the sounds of their pursuit echoing in the narrow hall. Her voice was tinged with both concern and an edge of frustration. "Out of all of us, he was probably the strongest." She wasn't wrong to include herself in that assessment. Freya and Rex both had the same Realm, their powers rooted in shared strength and mastery. Yet even she had to admit that Rex's bloodline held a unique edge in this situation. The might of his Draconic flames was legendary, a power far beyond the typical scope of the fire elements. If anyone could have dealt the fatal blow to their enemy, it would have been Rex. Leon, she thought, might have been able to match him in raw power—if not for the limitations of his health. The toll his body took from the strain of his abilities was evident in the faint weariness that clung to him, the quiet signs of his struggle. Leon glanced over at her, his expression unreadable, but there was an understanding in his eyes.
"Rex has his reasons," Leon said quietly, his tone unwavering despite the tension in the air. "Besides, we have Emily with us."
"Me?" Emily responded, her voice filled with shock as she glanced between Leon and Freya, clearly caught off guard by the mention of her name.
Freya's expression hardened, skepticism creeping into her voice. "What does she have to do with this?" She shot a look at Emily, then turned her attention back to Leon. "She's a Master Realm like you. Only those who have entered the Immortal phase stand a chance against the Beast King."
"I'm quite aware of our situation," Leon said, his voice calm but firm. "But if there's anybody who can land a critical strike on the Beast King, it's Emily."
"Leon…" Emily trailed off, uncertain of how to respond. She was used to Leon's conviction, but this was different.
Leon's gaze remained steady, his thoughts narrowing as he spoke. "I'm aware of your abilities, Emily," he said, his voice softer now but no less determined. "You don't like to use it, but I know what you're capable of."
A flash of memory tugged at the edges of his mind—the events in Fuyuki. The things he had seen, the things he hadn't told Emily. Her memories of the incident differed from his own, but Leon knew the truth. She had no idea the depths of what had transpired, the force she had tapped into in the heat of the moment. Emily was a gifted Mage, no doubt about that, but it was her Ability Factor—the unique technique she had never once used—that was the real game-changer. Even when her life was on the line previously, Emily never turned to it, always relying on Leon to have her back.
But now… they would need it.
The Beast King would not fall to normal methods. They needed something extraordinary, something only Emily could deliver. And Leon was ready to push her to that limit, even if she didn't fully understand what she was capable of. He would fight the Beast King, but Emily would be the one to deal the mortal blow. Freya's mind went into overdrive, the wheels turning as she tried to piece together what it was that Emily could do against the Beast King. She didn't like the uncertainty creeping into her thoughts.
Is it that dark purple light that he's referring to?
Freya's memory flashed back to the clip she had seen of Emily's confrontation with Balial back in Cedar Lake. In that fight, Emily had unleashed something… different. A surge of dark purple energy that seemed to shift the very balance of her fight against the Devil. The Greater being had recoiled, its immense form retreating in fear rather than pressing forward to kill her when she was at her most vulnerable. That was the moment Freya had witnessed the true potential of Emily's power—the potential that the Herald had been so eager to showcase to her. But Freya hadn't bought it then. She'd chalked it up to a fluke, an anomaly, some trick that couldn't possibly hold up under the pressure of an actual battle with the Beast King. Yet now, as the weight of Leon's words settled in, it seemed that Leon knew something about Emily that even Emily herself didn't. Or was Leon simply overconfident in her abilities?
Freya's gaze flickered over to Emily, who was running ahead, unaware of the growing storm of doubt in her mind.If Emily had a secret weapon, one that could rival the Beast King, would she even be willing to use it? When she hadn't even tried to use it in their fight.
They finally reached the massive, iron-bound door that stood before them, the threshold to the Beast King's lair. Leon's hand rested briefly on the cold handle, feeling the weight of the moment. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, the creaking of the door sounding like a death knell in the stillness of the air. The room beyond was a chilling sight, its very presence enough to freeze the blood in one's veins. A heavy, acrid scent of decay and rot filled the air, so thick it seemed to cling to their skin and coat their lungs with every breath. The flickering torchlight cast unsettling shadows across the stone walls, making the grotesque room appear to breathe, alive with the whispers of forgotten horrors. The floor was littered with fragments of bone, broken weaponry, and the remnants of past battles—evidence of those who had failed to conquer this throne room.
At the far end of the chamber, under a twisted, jagged archway, stood the throne—a hideous monument to the Beast King's reign. It was no ordinary seat; it was a grotesque structure, pieced together from the remains of the fallen, constructed entirely from human bones. The ribcages of humans interlocked upwards to form the backrest, the skulls of long-dead victims adorning the armrests, their hollow eyes staring out into the room with eternal emptiness. The throne sat like a cruel mockery of power, an emblem of dominion over life and death.
Around the throne stood a circle of monstrous creatures, their twisted forms half-human, half-beast, and all hostile. Their grotesque features seemed to shift in the dim light, their eyes glowing with malice and hunger. The air hummed with an almost palpable sense of dread, the oppressive aura of their presence seeping into every corner of the room. These were not mere servants, but the Beast King's loyal horrors, each one a twisted guardian bound to serve him in life and death. Their gnarled limbs twitched in anticipation, and their fetid breath filled the air like a warning to intruders. They were the victims of the Blackearth virus, humans who had been infected and turned into abominations and answered the call of their King.
And seated upon the throne, as though he had been carved from the very shadows of the room, was the Beast King. His immense form towered over the chamber, a hulking silhouette cloaked in a cloak of shifting darkness that seemed to pulse and writhe like a living entity. The dim light barely touched his features, revealing only fleeting glimpses of his grotesque appearance—eyes that burned with an ancient, malevolent intelligence, and skin as cracked and weathered as stone, marked by centuries of suffering and cruelty. His towering frame was draped in tattered, matted orange furs, the remnants of a once-proud symbol of power, while a stark white sleeveless garment clung to his form, a jarring contrast to the suffocating darkness that surrounded him. His presence alone seemed to distort the very air, warping reality itself as if the room bent to his will, every corner pulsing with his oppressive aura.
The silence in the room was suffocating. It was as though time itself had stopped, and the very air vibrated with the weight of the Beast King's unspoken power. Leon's hand gripped the hilt of his sword, his resolve hardening as he stepped further into the room, his presence a challenge to the King's domain.
"We're here," Leon said, his voice breaking the eerie silence, though it barely rose above a whisper. "Now we finish this."
"We meet again, Leonard Haravok," Sirius said, his voice dripping with disdain. Leon's expression darkened, a frown twisting across his face as memories of their last encounter flooded his mind. The bastard had killed the old hag and her clients in Menthos' shop, and their fight had ended abruptly when he vanished without a trace. So this is the bastard responsible for making Sam suffer, Leon thought, the weight of that realization settling heavily in his chest. His hand moved with practiced ease, drawing Solus from its scabbard. The crystal blade gleamed with an eerie light, its glow a sharp contrast to the suffocating darkness of the throne room. As the sword slid free, its faint hum seemed to reverberate in the air, a quiet promise of the violence to come.
The Beast King's gaze locked onto the Divine-grade enchanted weapon in Leon's hands, the very blade that had cut down countless Accursed beings—creatures even more powerful than himself. A flicker of dread surged through him as he recalled the scar on his chest, a constant reminder of the man before him. The weapon's ominous presence filled him with a growing, tantalizing fear; if he wasn't careful, it might claim his life as well. The Mid Realm Abominations roared in unison, a guttural, bloodthirsty cry as they charged, eager to rend apart the intruders who dared to challenge their king. Freya's fingers danced deftly through the air, releasing a barrage of mana arrows that cut through the chaos, each shot finding its mark with deadly precision. Her role had been to lead them to the Beast King's lair and provide crucial intel on Sirius' Generals. Now, with that task complete, she was fully committed to clearing the path, eliminating the servants who stood between them and their true target.
Meanwhile, Leon and Emily moved as one, their steps synchronized, weapons drawn and ready for the final confrontation. Their gazes were locked ahead, unwavering in their focus as they advanced toward the Beast King. The air around them crackled with tension—this would be the battle that decided Terra's fate, the battle that would rid the world of the Blackearth virus once and for all. The Beast King rose from his throne with a deliberate, predatory grace, the weight of his massive form sending a ripple through the air. His eyes gleamed with cold, malevolent intelligence as he scanned the two Pleiadians rushing toward him with unwavering determination. His gaze flickered over them like a hunter sizing up its prey—Leon and Emily were fast, but he could feel the anticipation building in the air as if the very room trembled in response to his presence.
He didn't wait for them to close the distance. In a fluid, almost feline motion, the Beast King sprang into action. His enormous body moved with terrifying agility, the muscles beneath his skin coiling like a serpent about to strike. Claws, sharp as jagged blades, extended from his hands, the sound of them scraping against stone a chilling prelude to the violence that would follow. He moved with the precision of a predator, each step calculated, each movement deadly. The space between them closed in an instant, and the Beast King was already upon them, his claws set to tear through their defenses and rip them apart with ruthless efficiency. Leon dropped into the stance, the familiar rhythm of the Io combat style settling into his muscles as he prepared to unleash his attack. His focus sharpened, and he entered the second form of the style:
[Io Style: Second Form - Perpetual Slashes]
With a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, Solus surged forward, its blade slicing through the air with lightning speed. The slashes came in quick succession, so rapid and numerous that it seemed as though the blade was striking from every direction at once. Each slash shimmered with a deadly aura, aimed at the Beast King's vitals, each one designed to overwhelm, to strike from angles where even the keenest of senses would falter. The air vibrated with the sheer intensity of the blows, a storm of energy that threatened to tear apart anything it touched.
But the Beast King was no ordinary foe. His senses, honed by centuries of battle and survival, tracked the trajectory of the aura slashes with unnerving precision. As each strike neared, he realized the true nature of the technique—a barrage of attacks designed to confuse and disorient, to force a response from every angle. He didn't hesitate. With a roar, he moved to intercept. His claws, sharp as razors, swiped through the air with monstrous strength, deflecting each of the aura strikes with brutal efficiency. The echoes of the collisions rang through the throne room like thunder. His Infernal aura, a twisted force of pure malice, surged around him, enhancing his Beastial strength and allowing him to bat aside the slashes as though they were mere nuisances. He stood unyielding, his eyes burning with primal fury, ready to tear through Leon's defense and crush the Pleiadian warrior before him.
At Leon's side stood Emily, her twin shortswords gleaming with an ethereal orange glow, the blades humming with energy as she raised them in perfect synchrony. The air around her seemed to shift, and the light from her swords intensified, enveloping them in a blazing orange aura.
[Dancing Twilight: Everlasting Sunset]
With a fluid, precise motion, Emily unleashed the technique. A wave of searing orange light exploded from her blades, slicing through the air like a comet's tail. The blast of light rippled outward in all directions, a tidal wave of pure energy that surged toward the Beast King. As the light spread, it seemed to push back the very fabric of the room, forcing the corrupted darkness that had surrounded the Beast King to retreat, as if recoiling in the face of such purity.
The intense orange glow swept around the Beast King like a living force, tearing through the oppressive atmosphere of the throne room and momentarily shattering the shadowy veil that cloaked him. The Beast King's expression twisted in momentary surprise as the light carved its way through the space, its warmth cutting through the chill of his infernal presence.
Soul Light, the Beast King thought, a shiver of recognition coursing through him as the light struck him. Tiny, razor-sharp blades of energy cut into his flesh, leaving deep, searing wounds across his orange fur. The light's presence was a shock to him, a force far more potent than mere illumination—it was an esoteric power, one that gnawed at his very being. Each bite of the light left a burning sensation, the wounds pulsing with an unnatural ache.
Reacting quickly, the Beast King leaped backward, his claws digging into the stone floor to propel himself out of the light's reach. He snarled, his chest heaving as he took a moment to assess the danger. This force is more than just a physical attack...
He had felt the sting of Soul Light before, but this was different. The light had a spiritual weight to it, something far more dangerous than any mere technique or spell. Soul Light, also known as Soulfire, was the rare and deadly combination of the light element and soul force essence—a force that attacked not only the body but also the very spirit. It was a power capable of searing through defenses, reaching beyond physical pain to wound the soul itself.
The Beast King, despite his immense power and primal resilience, could not afford to underestimate this technique. Soul Light was rare in the universe, and its potency made it nearly impossible to counter. Even the Haravok family, known for their mastery of the light element, couldn't harness this particular force. It was a power that, if used correctly, could deal catastrophic damage, eroding the very foundation of an opponent's strength.
The Beast King's head whipped toward the Pleiadian who had dared to wield such a dangerous power. His face contorted into a vicious snarl, the recognition hitting him like a physical blow. How could a mere Pleiadian harness such a force? He had expected this power only from beings born with such inherent abilities—Elves or Fae, perhaps—but not from someone like her. The audacity of it sent a surge of rage through him. She was no different from the others, but now, she had made herself a target. A very dangerous one.
With a growl, the Beast King launched himself toward the ceiling, his body moving with feline precision as he took to the high ground. The moment he touched the stone, he sprang off it, using the ceiling as his springboard, and dove downward with terrifying speed. His claws were poised to tear through Emily, to end her life in a single strike, his immense weight and fury ready to crush her. But just as the Beast King's claws descended with lethal intent, a flash of white light cut through the air. Leon appeared mid-flight, Solus drawn and poised in a perfect attack stance.
[Io Style: First Form - Swift Bolt]
A concentrated beam of pure white light shot forward with blinding speed, hurtling toward the Beast King. The Beast King, momentarily distracted, swung his massive fist in an attempt to deflect the beam. The punch collided with the light, and a shockwave erupted from the impact, sending the beam spiraling off in erratic, zigzagging arcs as it tore through the ground beneath them. The ground cracked and splintered under the force of the energy, sending debris flying in all directions, but the Beast King remained unscathed, his massive frame absorbing the shock. His claws flexed, rage boiling in his eyes as he locked his gaze on Leon. He had underestimated the Pleiadian warriors, but now, there would be no more distractions.