The sun was just a faint glow over the ocean when Master Roshi's voice jolted Jonah awake.
"Time to get moving, kid! You've got muscles to wake up and skills to sharpen!" Roshi barked, punctuating his call with the clang of a small gong.
Jonah groaned, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it? Does time even exist this early?"
Somewhere Yog sneezed.
Roshi opened the door, peering in with a sly grin. "Doesn't matter. If you want to get stronger, you start now. Up and at 'em!"
After begrudgingly dragging himself out of bed, Jonah soon found himself standing in the cool, salty morning air, clutching several heavy crates of milk. Roshi handed him a list of addresses scribbled on a piece of crumpled paper.
"All right, first order of the day: milk deliveries! Simple enough, right?" Roshi said, his tone far too cheerful for Jonah's liking.
Jonah glanced at the list, then at the weighty crates in his arms. "Wait, you're telling me this is training? Delivering milk?"
Roshi tapped his staff against the ground. "Training is about conditioning the body and mind, not flashy moves. Now listen up! You'll skip your way to each house—no walking allowed. And when I say skip, I mean it! None of that lazy dragging-your-feet nonsense."
Jonah sighed but nodded. "Fine. Skipping it is."
"And don't think you're taking the easy route," Roshi added, pointing toward a line of trees in the distance. "You'll zigzag between those trees first."
Grumbling under his breath, Jonah started off. The crates jostled awkwardly as he skipped his way across uneven ground, his legs quickly growing tired from the unfamiliar motion. He weaved between the trees, nearly losing his balance more than once, before finally reaching the first house.
After a quick delivery, he glanced back toward Roshi, who waved him onward. "Keep going, kid."
Jonah's route soon took him up a steep mountain trail. The steps were uneven, narrow, and seemed to stretch endlessly toward the clouds. By the time he reached the summit, his legs were trembling. He handed the milk crate to a man who greeted him with a knowing smile.
"You're Roshi's new student, aren't you?" the man asked. "You'll thank him someday. Maybe."
Jonah grunted in response, too tired to muster a proper reply, and began his descent.
When he reached the bottom, Roshi pointed toward a rushing waterfall with a log precariously balanced across it. "All right, next stop! Walk that log across the waterfall. Careful now—it's a long drop if you slip!"
Jonah stared at the roaring water below and the narrow log above. "Are you sure this is safe?"
"Safe?" Roshi said, chuckling. "This isn't about safe—it's about focus and balance. Go on then. Unless you're giving up already?"
Jonah swallowed his nerves and stepped onto the log, trying to keep balance as the water roared beneath him. Each step felt like an eternity, but he finally made it across, his heart pounding with relief.
The journey continued through blistering sand dunes, where the sun bore down on him mercilessly, and through a rushing stream that soaked him to the bone. His muscles ached, his breath came in ragged gasps, and he was certain his legs were about to give out.
When he finally returned to Roshi's island, the last crate delivered, Jonah collapsed onto the ground, drenched in sweat.
"Feel that?" Roshi asked, standing over him with an amused expression. "That's the feeling of a body being put to proper use!"
Jonah panted, barely able to lift his head. "Well… at least we're done for now."
Roshi chuckled, stroking his beard. "Done? Who decided that? That was just the early morning training."
Jonah's heart sank as Roshi continued. "Now we move on to mid-morning training! You either give it everything you've got, or you might as well pack your bags now."
Jonah forced himself to sit up, his exhaustion momentarily giving way to determination. "I know I'm not much right now," he admitted, his voice steady despite his fatigue. "But I need to be ready for what's coming. There are people I care about that I want to protect, and I need to prove to myself that I can be strong enough to do it."
Roshi's expression softened for a moment, his gaze lingering on Jonah as if assessing something deeper. "Hmph," he muttered, stroking his beard. "You've got guts, kid. And maybe something else. All right, you've earned your shot. But don't think I'll go easy on you. Now, up you go—we've got work to do!"
Jonah groaned but staggered to his feet, ready to face whatever grueling task Roshi had in store next.
For the next stage of training, Master Roshi led Jonah to a wide, overgrown field. The soil was tough, riddled with roots and weeds that had been left to run wild for years.
"Your task is simple," Roshi said with a grin. "Prepare this field for planting. But you're not using any tools—no hoes, no shovels, no fancy gadgets. Just your hands."
Jonah stared at the field, his jaw slack. "You've got to be kidding me."
"No joke, kid. A martial artist doesn't just train their body; they also develop focus, patience, and a willingness to get their hands dirty. And I mean that literally." Roshi chuckled at his own joke, leaning casually on his staff. "Get to it. And don't even think about quitting halfway through."
Grumbling under his breath, Jonah got to work. He clawed at the soil, yanked out stubborn roots, and tore through patches of weeds that seemed to fight him every step of the way. The sun beat down on him mercilessly, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest.
Hours seemed to pass, though it was likely much less. By the time Jonah finally cleared the last weed and smoothed out the soil, his hands were raw, his fingers sore and numb.
"Done… finally," Jonah panted, collapsing to his knees.
Roshi approached, inspecting the field with a critical eye. "Hmm… not bad for your first try. I might even call it decent. But don't get too comfortable—there's plenty more where that came from. For now, though, you've earned a break. Wash up and get some food. You're going to need it."
Jonah staggered back to the house, grateful for the chance to clean the dirt from his aching hands. After washing up, he devoured the simple but hearty meal Roshi had prepared—rice, steamed vegetables, and grilled fish.
After finishing his meal and just as Jonah was beginning to relax, Roshi clapped his hands. "Break's over! It's time for your late morning training."
Jonah groaned, reluctantly following Roshi to the porch, where a small stack of books awaited him.
"Martial arts isn't just about having a strong body," Roshi explained, handing Jonah a book. "You need a sharp mind to match. Discipline, strategy, and focus all come from up here." He tapped the side of his head. "So, for the next couple of hours, you're going to study. Start with this—literature."
Jonah opened the book and began reading aloud. "'Her eyes grew foggy with lust as he leaned in closer, their breaths mingling—'" He raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, Roshi…?" Jonah muttered, holding the book up.
Roshi squinted at the cover, his expression shifting from confusion to sheepishness. "Whoops! That's not the one I meant to give you. Guess that explains why I couldn't find this one in my collection last night." He quickly swapped the book for another. "Here, this one's actually for studying."
Jonah sighed and resumed his reading, though the awkwardness lingered.
After literature, Roshi moved Jonah onto math. Numbers had never been Jonah's strong suit, and the problems Roshi gave him were far from beginner-level.
"Wait, you want me to calculate the speed of an attack if it travels 20 meters in 0.8 seconds? I didn't sign up for physics!" Jonah protested.
"Math is everywhere in martial arts," Roshi countered. "Footwork, timing, angles of attack—all of it involves calculations, whether you realize it or not. Now get back to it."
By the time noon rolled around, Jonah's brain felt as fried as his muscles had earlier that morning. Thankfully, lunch was ready, and Roshi even allowed him an hour-long nap in a hammock strung up between two palm trees.
As they lounged, Roshi sipped from a coconut drink while Jonah tried to resist the urge to pass out completely.
"So," Roshi began, his tone casual, "besides protecting your family, is there anything else you want out of martial arts? Winning a fight? Competing in a tournament?"
Jonah thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I guess it'd be fun to win a fight or maybe a tournament someday."
Roshi nodded thoughtfully. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to win. It's natural. But let me tell you something, kid—if winning is your only focus, you'll miss the bigger picture." He leaned forward, his gaze steady. "Martial arts isn't just about beating an opponent. It's about constantly improving yourself. Every day, you refine your skills, learn from your mistakes, and push past your limits. You fight not to prove something to others, but to become the best version of yourself."
Jonah listened intently, the words resonating with him. "So, it's more about the journey than the destination?"
"Exactly," Roshi said. "Winning's nice, sure. But the real victory comes from knowing you gave it your all and kept growing along the way."
Jonah let the words sink in as he swayed gently in the hammock. Despite the exhaustion, he felt a renewed sense of purpose.
"Thanks, Roshi," Jonah said softly.
"Don't thank me yet, kid," Roshi replied with a mischievous grin. "You've still got afternoon training ahead."
Jonah groaned, but deep down, he felt ready to face whatever came next.
Roshi adjusted his sunglasses and gave Jonah a proud yet mischievous grin. "Work hard, study well, and eat and sleep plenty. That's the Turtle Hermit way to learn," he said with the air of a sage imparting timeless wisdom.
Jonah repeated the mantra under his breath, letting it imprint on his mind. Somehow, those words felt more profound than they appeared.
The next stage of training had Jonah doing construction work—without the aid of power tools. He sawed wood, hammered nails, and even mixed cement with just his hands or some basic tools, all under Roshi's watchful eye. His body protested the grueling labor, his muscles screaming for relief, but Jonah grit his teeth and pushed through. Each plank he lifted, each nail he hammered, made him feel a little stronger, even if he didn't notice it right away.
Afterward, for mid-afternoon training, Roshi brought Jonah to a lake. "All right, swim laps around this lake until I say stop," Roshi instructed, casually reclining on a rock with a drink in hand.
Jonah dove in, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the afternoon sun. Lap after lap, he pushed himself through the resistance of the water. The first few laps were manageable, but by the tenth, Jonah was gasping for breath, his arms and legs aching.
Once he stumbled back to shore, soaking and exhausted, he looked at Roshi. "When can I start learning how to fight? Like... cool techniques or something? Maybe a secret martial arts move?"
Roshi smirked and gestured toward a large boulder nearby. "I'll teach you a technique when you can move that rock with your own two hands. No fancy tricks, Just you and your strength."
Jonah walked over to the rock, determination burning in his chest. He bent down, gripped it tightly, and pushed with all his might. Veins bulged in his arms, and his face turned red with effort, but the rock didn't budge. With a groan of frustration, he let go and fell to the ground, panting.
Roshi chuckled. "Not yet, kid. But don't worry. Keep at it, and you'll surprise yourself one day."
Jonah sighed and returned to the lake, diving back in to resume his laps.
Later in the afternoon, Roshi brought Jonah to a clearing with a single tree. Tying a rope around Jonah's waist, he secured him to the tree trunk. Jonah gave him a wary look.
"What's this for?"
Roshi grinned, holding a long stick in one hand and a beehive in the other. "Dodging practice!" He smacked the hive with the stick, and a swarm of bees poured out in an angry buzz.
Jonah's eyes widened. "Wait, WHAT?!"
Roshi stepped back, chuckling, as Jonah sprinted in circles around the tree, the bees hot on his heels. Tied to the tree, his movements were limited, forcing him to dodge within a confined space. Roshi watched with a satisfied nod, muttering, "Nothing sharpens reflexes like desperation."
By the time Jonah returned to the house that evening, his clothes were torn, his body covered in scratches and some bee stings, and he was visibly exhausted. But despite his disheveled appearance, he stood taller than he had that morning, his resolve still intact.
Roshi gave Jonah an approving nod. "Not bad for your first day, kid. You survived the Turtle Hermit's training. Now we'll just do the same thing every day... with one little addition."
Jonah's heart sank. "Little addition?"
Roshi walked into the house and returned holding a large, weighted turtle shell. He dropped it at Jonah's feet with a thud. "Fifty pounds. You'll wear this on your back for everything—milk deliveries, field plowing, dodging bees. The whole shebang."
Jonah groaned but nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."
Roshi smirked. "Good. Welcome to the real training, kid."
[TIMESKIP]
Day after day, Jonah followed the same rigorous routine. With each passing week, the mountains he climbed grew steeper, the fields longer, and the tasks more grueling. He carried that heavy turtle shell on his back all the way, pushed himself further in the lake, and never stopped for long.
The results were clear. Jonah's body transformed from a wiry frame to a lean, powerful build reminiscent of Bruce Lee's physique. His movements became faster, his endurance greater, and his once-awkward coordination sharper. His appetite grew ravenous; meals that once left him full were now devoured in minutes. Most importantly, the spark of determination in his eyes burned brighter than ever.
One day, Jonah led Roshi to the large boulder. Without a word, he squared his shoulders, bent his knees, and gripped the rock. With a grunt of effort and a surge of strength, he pushed the boulder and moved it several feet.
Roshi's eyes widened behind his sunglasses, a rare moment of genuine surprise. He let out a whistle. "Well, I'll be. You actually did it. Not the first time a student of mine has done it but you did it a little sooner than I expected in all honesty."
Jonah grinned, sweat dripping from his brow. "So... do I get to learn how to fight now?"
Roshi chuckled, patting Jonah on the back. "You've earned it. But remember, kid, flashy moves don't make a martial artist. Most of what you'll learn in fighting comes down to muscle memory and discipline. I'll give you pointers, but the real work is still up to you."
From that day, Jonah's training expanded to include some sparring sessions with Roshi. Though Roshi's techniques seemed deceptively simple, Jonah quickly realized the depth of skill and precision they required.
But the Turtle Hermit wasn't done pushing him yet. "Now that you've gotten stronger, time to up the challenge." Roshi handed Jonah a new turtle shell—this one weighing a hundred pounds.
Jonah groaned but strapped it on with a determined look. "Bring it on."
[TIMESKIP]
Months of grueling effort, sweat, and determination had led to this moment. Jonah stood before Master Roshi on the beach, his muscles aching but his spirit as strong as ever. Roshi, leaning on his staff, regarded Jonah with a mix of pride and his usual demeanor.
"Well, kid," Roshi said, adjusting his sunglasses. "You've come a long way. All while carrying that turtle shell. Now it's time to see the fruits of your labor."
Jonah blinked. "Wait, does this mean...?"
Roshi nodded. "You've earned the right to take off the turtle shell. Go on."
With a mix of excitement and apprehension, Jonah reached back and unbuckled the heavy shell he'd been wearing for months. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up sand. He stretched his shoulders, marveling at how light he felt.
"Now," Roshi continued, "jump as high as you can."
Jonah crouched, coiling his legs like springs, and then launched himself into the air. To his shock and exhilaration, he soared higher and higher, the ground shrinking beneath him. He almost punched through the lower clouds before gravity finally pulled him back. He landed with a heavy thud but barely felt the impact, his body alive with energy and newfound strength.
He stared at Roshi, wide-eyed. "I... I almost touched the sky!"
Roshi chuckled, stroking his beard. "Heh, I told you this training would pay off. Your body's a machine now—stronger, faster, and tougher than you ever thought possible."
Jonah couldn't contain his excitement. He began running and leaping around the area, marveling at his speed and agility. For the first time in his life, he felt like a superhero—someone truly capable of great things. His laughter echoed across the beach, carefree and boyish.
Once he calmed down, Roshi approached him with something in his hands. It was neatly folded and familiar. "Here," the old master said, handing it to Jonah. "A little something for you."
Jonah unfolded the fabric, revealing a blue and orange gi. His heart skipped a beat.
"No way," he whispered, his inner fanboy roaring to life. This is... like Goku's gi! "The Turtle Hermit uniform!"
Roshi smiled. "All my students get one when they've proven themselves. You've earned it."
Jonah didn't need to be told twice. He quickly put on the gi, adjusting the belt with care. Standing there in the iconic outfit, he felt like he'd stepped into one of his favorite animes. He struck a few poses, grinning from ear to ear.
"How do I look?" Jonah asked, beaming.
"Like someone who's ready to take on the world," Roshi replied.
Once the excitement of the gi settled, Roshi gestured for Jonah to sit down. "Now that you've built a strong foundation, it's time for the next step: learning to control your energy—your Ki."
Jonah's heart raced. "You mean like your famous Kamehameha?"
Roshi smirked. "Heh, slow down there, hotshot. First, you need to feel your Ki. Every living being in this world has it. It's the life force that flows through us all. Close your eyes, focus, and try to feel that energy inside you."
Jonah nodded and sat cross-legged in the sand, closing his eyes. He took deep breaths, trying to sense the energy Roshi spoke of. Minutes passed. Then an hour. His brow furrowed in concentration, but... nothing.
Roshi tilted his head. "Hmm. That's strange. Most people feel something by now. Are you sure you're focusing properly?"
"I... I am," Jonah said, frustration creeping into his voice.
They tried several exercises, but no matter what they did, Jonah couldn't produce or manipulate Ki like Roshi described.
Finally, Jonah sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Maybe I just don't have Ki."
Roshi frowned. "Nonsense. Everyone has Ki. The question is, why can't you access it?"
Jonah thought back. A realization dawned on him, though he kept it to himself. I'm not from this universe. Maybe only humans native to this world can use Ki in the way Roshi describes.
He didn't want to burden Roshi with the truth about multiverse and eldritch stuff, so he gave a sheepish shrug. "Maybe I'm just different."
Roshi stroked his beard, studying Jonah. "Different, huh? Well, any other tricks you have up your sleeve?"
Jonah hesitated, then nodded. "I do currently have one ability." He stood and focused on a nearby rock. With a wave of his hand, the rock lifted into the air, hovering a few feet above the ground. He moved it back and forth effortlessly before setting it down.
Roshi's eyes widened. "Well, I'll be. You've got telekinesis, and using it without Ki?"
"Yeah," Jonah said. "It's the only ability I've got right now, but it's pretty useful."
Roshi tapped his staff thoughtfully. "Kid, I've been around a long time, and I've seen all kinds of fighters—some who could barely lift a pebble and others who could destroy moons. What separates the great ones isn't their power—it's their skill and creativity. If you can't use Ki, then use what you've got. Get clever with that telekinesis of yours. Use it in ways no one's ever thought of before."
Jonah felt a spark of inspiration. "You really think I can make it work?"
Roshi grinned. "Kid, if you've survived my training, you can do anything. Now, it's up to you to figure out how to make your powers your own."
Jonah nodded, a determined smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, Master Roshi. I won't let you down."
Roshi waved a hand. "Bah, enough with the sentimental stuff. Now, how about you go fetch us some dinner? With that new speed of yours, it shouldn't take long."
Jonah laughed, racing off to complete the task, feeling stronger and more capable than ever.
[ANOTHER TIMESKIP]
Jonah spent a few more weeks with Roshi, continuing to train and experimenting with his newfound abilities. Master Roshi had given him the basics, but Jonah knew that his powers—particularly his telekinesis—had the potential to evolve far beyond what he had already accomplished. He spent hours each day refining his control, discovering new ways to use his powers in combat and beyond.
One of the first techniques he mastered was using his telekinesis to amplify the force of his attacks. He could now strike with his hands or feet, but with an invisible, telekinetic boost behind each blow, giving them far more impact than they would have otherwise had. It was like adding an invisible fist to his physical punches, and the results were satisfying.
Next, he began experimenting with the idea of flying. For now, Jonah could only hover—just barely lifting off the ground. But the sensation was liberating. With a little more practice, he could feel himself getting closer to achieving true flight. Each day he spent hovering, he gradually raised himself higher and higher, staying airborne for longer stretches of time.
One of the more curious abilities he discovered was the creation of an invisible "razor blade." By manipulating the air around an object with precision, Jonah could make sharp, cutting winds strong enough to slice through some basic materials. It was like having a blade made entirely of telekinetic energy—quick and deadly, yet invisible to the naked eye. His confidence grew as he honed this ability.
But one night, as he sat alone on the edge of the island, Jonah's mind wandered to something else. He recalled a scene from an old Star Wars video he had watched years ago, where characters used the Force to manipulate the elements. What if I could use my telekinesis to create fire?
Fueled by inspiration, Jonah went to a local library and spent hours researching the science of heat and fire. He learned that fire was a result of combustion, which occurred when heat was applied to certain materials, causing their molecules to move rapidly. Jonah theorized that he could manipulate the air, increasing its molecular motion to generate enough heat to start a fire. It sounded simple in theory, but he knew it would take intense focus and patience to make it work.
For the next few days, Jonah practiced by the water, knowing he'd need a way to put out the flames if things went wrong. The first few attempts were disastrous, and he almost set a patch of the island on fire. But with each failure, Jonah learned something new. He refined his approach, carefully adjusting the flow until—finally—he succeeded.
Jonah stood before the sea, concentrating. Slowly, the air around him began to shimmer, and with a burst of effort, a small flame flickered to life in the center of his hand. Jonah grinned, barely believing it. He had done it. He had created fire with nothing but his mind and the air.
He spent more time experimenting, learning how to control the flames, making them dance in the air. Eventually, he was able to create fireballs, launching them at targets with precision and power. The combination of telekinesis and fire was both beautiful and deadly, and Jonah was proud of his progress.
The day came when Jonah's time on Roshi's island came to an end. His training had been intense and transformative, but now it was time for him to leave. Jonah felt a mix of emotions: gratitude for what he had learned, some sadness at saying goodbye, and excitement for the future.
"Alright, kid," Roshi said with a sly grin, "you've learned a lot, but there's one last thing I need to do."
Jonah knew what was coming—a final sparring match. He had trained long and hard for this moment, but deep down, he knew Roshi was still leagues ahead of him in experience and power.
The fight began, and Jonah gave it his all, throwing learned attacks and some improvised ones with everything he had. But Roshi, ever the skilled martial artist, easily dodged each one, countering with swift, precise strikes. Jonah tried to keep up, but it was clear that Roshi was still in another league.
After a few minutes of back-and-forth, Roshi landed a well-placed strike, sending Jonah tumbling to the ground. He lay there for a moment, panting and exhausted, but there was no shame in his defeat. He had come a long way, and he knew he would continue to improve.
Roshi extended a hand to help Jonah up. "Good fight, kid. You've got a lot of potential. Keep at it."
Jonah smiled, accepting the hand. "I'll be back stronger next time. You can count on it."
After the match, Roshi gave Jonah a small, knowing smile. "Just don't get too cocky, alright? Keep learning, keep growing."
With that, Jonah gave Roshi a respectful bow. "Thank you for everything, Master Roshi. I won't forget it."
As Jonah prepared to leave, Roshi waved him off. "Take care of yourself, and remember, the turtle hermit way isn't just about pure strength."
As Jonah left the island, the familiar warmth of the sun on his face, he was suddenly aware of a presence nearby. Turning, he saw a woman in medieval-looking armor, standing a few feet away. She had long black hair, and her eyes seemed to glow in a way. Jonah instinctively felt a strange aura emanating from her—she was an Eldritch.
"Greetings, my Kungur," the woman said. "It's good to see you returning. I am Yad-Thaddag."
Jonah raised an eyebrow. "Kungur? Never heard of that title, but it sounds pretty cool not gonna lie. You have any relation to Yog by the way? You look like her sister."
The woman's expression shifted slightly, but she nodded. "To put it simply, yes, we are sisters in ways. I was created when a younger Yog-Sothoth tried to change her own past. I was the result of a paradox, created in an attempt to alter the timeline. However, only one of us can rule time. I am the version of Yog-Sothoth who holds the lesser power over it, the Elder God while she is an Outer God."
Jonah couldn't help but feel a shift in the air—this woman, Yad-Thaddag, was much more serious and focused than Yog. Her presence was solemn, and there was a quiet intensity to her. She exuded power, but also something different from Yog yet some similarity's.
"I see," Jonah said thoughtfully. "So, you're my ride back, huh? Aza sent you to keep an eye on me, didn't she?"
Yad nodded. "Yes. Aza wishes for you to remain safe, but she also wanted you to grow. I was to protect you, but I would not interfere with your training. It was Yog's idea to send me, and as you and me had not met yet. It seemed… inevitable."
Jonah smiled. "Well, thanks for that. I appreciate it. So, are we heading back now?"
Yad gave a small nod. "We are, but before we go, there's a challenge that awaits you. One of the surprises Nyarly had set up previously, and with your newfound abilities, I believe you're ready for it."
Jonah paused, considering. "Sure, why not? It'll be a good test to see how far I've come."
Yad drew a sword—a beautifully crafted, medieval-looking blade—and swung it through the air. A portal appeared before them. "The challenge awaits you, my Kungur. Good luck."
Jonah took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.
[SCENE SHIFT]
Jonah stepped through the portal and found himself in a dimly lit, underground room. The air was thick with an ancient, oppressive energy, and the walls were covered in strange markings and symbols. The room had the feeling of a forgotten temple or long-lost ruin, as though it had been untouched by time for centuries. In the center of the room, suspended in mid-air, was a scepter—gleaming ominously, its surface swirling with a faint, dark aura.
Jonah squinted at the scepter, sensing something peculiar about it. "This looks familiar… What's this thing?" he muttered to himself, slowly stepping closer, his senses alert for any danger.
As Jonah approached, a sudden, sharp crack echoed through the room. Without warning, the scepter burst open, releasing a dark, viscous purple liquid that spilled across the floor, quickly spreading in all directions. Jonah instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding the spreading mass. The liquid churned and bubbled, as if alive, and from it emerged a horde of strange, one-eyed creatures—beasts with grotesque bodies, each letting out an eerie screech.
Without hesitation, Jonah launched into action. His movements were fluid and precise, each punch and kick powered by months of rigorous training. His reflexes, honed well by now, allowed him to easily fend off the smaller creatures, sending them flying with well-timed strikes. But as more of the creatures emerged from the liquid, Jonah realized he needed to up the ante.
With a determined grunt, Jonah focused his power and began launching fireballs from his hands, each one roaring as it shot across the room. The creatures shrieked in pain as the flames consumed them, the fireballs disintegrating them into nothingness. The room grew eerily silent as Jonah stood amidst the scorched remnants of the beasts, catching his breath.
Just as he relaxed, however, he felt a dark presence behind him. His senses tingled as the temperature in the room shifted, and without turning around, he instinctively dropped into a defensive stance. From the shadows, a figure emerged.
The being appeared humanoid at first, but it was twisted in a way Jonah couldn't quite comprehend. Its body was sleek and dark, its limbs unnaturally elongated. It had no mouth, no nose, and no feet—its legs ending in crystalline stubs that seemed to shimmer with a faint purple aura. Its arms were disjointed at the elbows, creating a strange gap between the upper and lower portions, and its quills were long and bushy, tipped with white. Its eyes glowed with an unsettling red sclera and lime green irises, and it radiated an overwhelming sense of power.
Jonah's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the being's appearance. This… this looks like something out of a nightmare. No, wait, I know what this is.
The creature leaped toward him in a blur of motion, creating an energy spear from its hands. The spear crackled with energy, the creature aimed it at him with lightning speed, extending the glowing weapon toward his chest.
But Jonah's reflexes, sharpened by months of intense training, kicked in. He saw the attack coming a split second before it reached him. With a swift flip, Jonah ducked beneath the lance of energy, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. The energy spear passed through the air where he had just been, leaving a trail of light in its wake as it imbedded itself in the stone floor behind him.
Jonah rolled to his feet, taking a moment to assess his opponent. The creature retracted its energy lance, its glowing eyes locking onto Jonah with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine.
"Mephiles the Dark" Jonah muttered under his breath, finally recognizing the being.
Mephiles sneered, his form rising into the air. "You know of me, yet I do not know you… but it doesn't matter. I will defeat you, and restore myself to the timeline! Just as she promised me."
(TO BE CONTINUED)