It was inevitable, really.
The storm had been brewing for a while, and now it had finally hit. Darksteel—once an ally to both the Blackthorns and the Vortexes—had made his move. And when he moved, it wasn't with the quiet grace of a shadow. No, Darksteel made a statement. He didn't just challenge the power of the families; he declared war on it, openly, without hesitation.
I should've seen it coming. Darksteel had always been different from the others. He wasn't driven by loyalty, not like Emberfang or Vex. He wasn't swayed by ambition either, not like Noctis. No, Darksteel had always been about something else—something bigger. He wanted power, but not in the way the Blackthorns or Vortexes did. He wanted to tear down everything they'd built. He thought neither family deserved their wealth, their influence, their grip on this world. And when he spoke, people listened. It wasn't just his past as a fighter that gave him that power. It was his vision—the raw, unapologetic idea that everything the two families fought for was nothing but a façade.
It wasn't long after Sable's betrayal that Darksteel made his first public move.
We were in the midst of crisis management when the message came. It was simple, blunt, like a slap to the face. Darksteel had gathered followers—those who were dissatisfied, the lost, the ones who had felt the crushing weight of the Blackthorns' and Vortexes' influence for too long. His message was a declaration of war, but not one against either family directly. No, he challenged them both. He claimed neither family deserved the power they had. Said that they were blind to the suffering they caused, that their empires were built on manipulation and violence. The arrogance of both families, he said, had corrupted them beyond redemption. He promised that he would bring them down.
It was chaos. That kind of challenge—it wasn't something either the Blackthorns or Vortexes could ignore. Not when someone like Darksteel, with his own army of disenfranchised loyalists, was out there undermining everything they'd worked for.
But the biggest shock came when Darksteel sent his challenge directly to Empress Blackthorn and Noctis Vortex—together. He was daring them, in front of everyone, to come face him. He wasn't just threatening them. He was daring them to prove they were worthy of their crowns.
And so, the game changed.
I was in the Blackthorn mansion when the call came—Vex's voice cutting through the silence like a jagged blade. He'd been tasked with confronting Darksteel. No surprise there. Vex wasn't the kind of man to let anyone walk all over him, not even a former ally turned traitor. But the challenge—this challenge—was different. Vex knew it. I knew it.
"Get ready," Vex had said, his voice steady but laced with a tension I could feel through the phone. "We're going to end this tonight."
I barely had time to prepare myself for what was coming. I wasn't about to stand in the way of Vex. He had more than enough bloodlust to finish what Darksteel started. But this wasn't just another battle. Darksteel had chosen the perfect moment to strike, when both families were still reeling from the fractures in their own ranks.
The meeting place was a remote, abandoned warehouse—of course it was. Darksteel had always been theatrical like that, picking somewhere dark, forgotten, and removed from any prying eyes. It was the kind of place where deals were made and alliances were broken in silence. It felt fitting for what was about to unfold.
I arrived just as Vex was stepping into the heart of the warehouse. His figure was framed by the harsh glow of the overhead lights, his posture commanding, like a lion surveying its territory. He wasn't here to negotiate. He was here to kill. And Darksteel? He was nowhere to be seen.
At least not at first.
The stench of tension hung in the air as I stepped closer. Then, the darkness shifted.
"Vex," a voice said, calm and measured, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Darksteel emerged from the shadows. The man looked the same as I remembered—tall, broad, and exuding an aura of control. He was wearing his signature black armor, the kind that seemed to absorb light itself, making him look like a shadow come to life. His eyes locked onto Vex's, and the distance between them seemed to shrink instantly.
"So, you're the one they sent to clean up the mess," Darksteel said, his lips curling into a half-smile. "How quaint."
Vex didn't flinch. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he sized Darksteel up. The tension crackled between them.
"Someone has to put you down," Vex growled. "And I'm not about to let you tear apart everything the Blackthorns built."
Darksteel chuckled darkly, his voice filled with contempt. "Built? You think you've built something worthy? No, Vex. You've only ever been a pawn in a game you didn't even understand. You and your family. The Vortexes. None of you have any idea what real power is. You're just playing dress-up in a world that doesn't care about you."
I could feel the heat of the confrontation even from the sidelines. These weren't just words. They were accusations—deep, personal ones—and they were cutting through Vex's armor in ways I hadn't expected.
Vex took a step forward, his eyes burning with fury. "Enough talk. You're going to die here."
But Darksteel didn't flinch. Instead, he stood taller, pulling something from his side—a blade. It was massive, forged from a metal I didn't recognize, black and shining like it had been pulled from the depths of the earth itself. The air around him seemed to darken, as though the blade itself was pulling all the light into it.
The battle erupted in an instant.
It was brutal. There were no fancy moves, no hesitation. Vex and Darksteel collided like two storms meeting head-on, each strike a collision of raw power. I could feel the ground shake beneath me as they fought, their weapons clashing, their fury filling every corner of the warehouse.
Darksteel was fast, faster than I remembered. His strikes were calculated, every movement an extension of the dark power that seemed to surround him. Vex wasn't slowing down either, but it was clear that Darksteel had something he hadn't anticipated.
The fight raged on, the tension palpable, until, with a sharp cry, Vex managed to land a blow, cutting through Darksteel's armor. But Darksteel only laughed, as if he'd expected it.
"You think this is over?" he spat, wiping blood from his lip. "This is just the beginning."
With that, he retreated into the shadows, vanishing as quickly as he had come, leaving Vex standing in the middle of the battlefield, seething with frustration.
Darksteel had made his point. His challenge wasn't just against the Blackthorns or the Vortexes. It was a challenge to everything they represented. The war wasn't just about family anymore—it was about power, and Darksteel was more than willing to burn it all down.
And I had a sinking feeling that this was just the start.