[Spirit World – Edge of the Forbidden House]
The two souls, Steve and Stephen, placed their hands firmly on Starmon's shoulders.
Steve: "Good luck, son. And save everyone."
Stephen: "The whole world is counting on you."
Starmon nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. Without hesitating, he reached for the old, worn door. As his hand touched the handle, a faint energy pulsed—then the door creaked open by itself.
Inside was silent.
The moment Starmon stepped forward, the door slammed shut behind him, sealing him in.
He walked slowly, cautiously, his boots clicking softly on the marble floor. The world inside was… hollow. Echoes of nothingness. But then—
At the far end of the room, illuminated under a single faint beam of white light, he saw him.
A boy, barely sixteen, hung in midair— Black hair. Black eyes. Shackled by heavy silver chains, his head tilted down, unconscious.
For a long moment, Starmon just… stared.
The boy's eyelids fluttered slightly at the sound of the door closing. His body shifted, and slowly, painfully, his head raised.
Those black eyes, tired but still burning with defiance, locked onto Starmon.
And then—barely audible—a whisper from cracked lips:
Astor: "...Starmon."
A ripple of something powerful jolted through Starmon's chest.
He felt it immediately—connection. Pain.Destiny.
Starmon's face broke into a gentle, bittersweet smile.
Starmon: "So... this is our first meeting, right?"
Astor smiled back weakly.
Astor: "Yeah... First time talking."
A moment of fragile peace hung between them. But Astor's eyes sharpened—urgency returning.
Astor: "Wait—why are you here?! What happened?!"
Starmon raised both hands calmly.
Starmon: "Relax. Nothing's happened to me… Not yet."
Astor's gaze darkened.
Astor: "Not yet? What do you mean?"
Starmon exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully.
Starmon: "Let me explain everything. I'm here through a Wizard's spell. But Malakar's whole army is here. Maybe Malakar himself too…"
Astor stiffened, struggling against the chains instinctively.
Astor: "You idiot! If Malakar's there— then why you came here?"
Starmon shook his head firmly.
Starmon: "I can't stop them. It's you who can."
Astor froze for a moment then said "Me? Did you forget what Sofia said? She was right— Its can be you also"
Starmon stepped closer, fists clenched.
Starmon: "The one the prophecy spoke about—it was never me. It was YOU."
Astor looked at him, confused.
Astor: "What... are you saying?"
Starmon's voice softened, almost reverent.
Starmon: "Remember the prophecy, Astor?
'Bound by fury, cursed by pain, only he can break the tyrant's reign.'
It's you. It was always you."
Astor's mouth opened.
Astor: "Even if it is true then it's too late now. I can't go back anymore"
Starmon: "Why? What happened?"
A deep silence fell. Until— A third voice cut through the air.
Cold. Unfamiliar. Unfeeling.
Unknown Voice:
"Because he lost the only chance he had. Now... he must face punishment as promised."
Starmon surprised by the voice and turned sharply.
A deafening silence settled over the chamber but there was no figure. No presence.
Just an echo, vibrating through the air like judgment itself.
Starmon looked around, his fists trembling.
Starmon: "Punishment? Which promise are you talking about?"
Unknown Voice: "When he died first time, he asked for another chance and in return he will get vanished from both worlds"
Starmon: "But he didn't die yet... He just left that body"
Unknown Voice: "This doesn't matter if he die or just leave his body, He lost his only chance he had"
Starmon: "How can he lose his chance?! This body wasn't just his body—it was ours.
And I don't allow him to leave by his own!"
Unkown Voice (calm, but cold):
"Did he come into your body by your invitation? Nothing happens by your wishes. Everything... happens as I say."
Starmon (pleading): "But if that's really true... If he has lost his chance… Then at least let him fulfill his last wish."
A moment passed. The air thickened with tension.
UnknownVoice:
"It doesn't work that way. If I allow that, it would be unfair to the others."
Astor finally spoke, voice heavy with regret.
Astor: "Starmon… please, go back. It was my fault. I was just thinking about revenge."
Starmon turned to him, eyes filled with emotion.
Starmon: "I can't. I promised that I won't return until I get you back."
Astor's voice cracked.
Astor: "Don't be a child. If you stay here then everyone there will die"
Starmon: "If you don't want me do like this then come with me"
The voice cut back in—sharper now.
Voice:
"Well… If you insist, I can let Astor return."
Starmon's eyes lit up with hope.
Starmon: "Really?!"
He turned back to Astor.
Starmon (smiling):
"Did you hear that?! We can both go back!"
But the voice replied with a cruel twist.
Voice:
"You heard wrong. I said: I can make Astor return.Not both of you."
The chamber seemed to freeze.
Starmon (shocked): "What you mean? Not both?"
Voice (echoing):
"If you want him to return then you have to sacrifice your life— Life for Life
So—what do you choose? The world? Or yourself?"
Astor laughed bitterly, in utter disbelief.
Astor: "Only I can return? You are not gonna—"
Starmon (cutting in, determined): "If I say yes… Will Astor live his life properly?"
Voice:
"He will live your life. And don't worry people will remember you but you will no longer be there."
Astor (desperate): "Starmon—what are you saying?! Don't do it! Think about your mom and friends! Don't be stupid!"
Starmon didn't answer.
Instead, he simply looked at him—with love, with calm, with tears.
Starmon (gently): "Astor… Save the world for my sake and please tell our mother that I did my best to keep… my promise."
Tears fell from Astor's eyes now, faster than he could stop them.
Astor (sobbing): "Starmon— This is your life. They are your people, Live for them, fight for them and if its death in your fate then die for them but don't do this"
Starmon: "Sofia, Mark, Elisa and everyone. They don't hate you, they just didn't want to lose me. But… life doesn't go the way we wish, does it?"
Voice (dry, final):
"Are you done? For your information, Let me remind you with the magic you came here is about to end... So Decide quickly!"
Starmon nodded slowly.
Starmon: "I Accept it! Let Astor return"
Then the white light returned, flooding every corner of the chamber.
Starmon (yelling through the light):
"Brother!! Kill that MURDERER—Malakar!!
Tell the whole world that no matter how strong darkness grows…
LIGHT will always find a way to BURN IT DOWN!"
His voice rose, full of resolve, full of goodbye.
Starmon: "Get revenge for Uncle Stephen… for Dad… for Mary…
AND FOR ME!"
Astor (screaming):
"NOOOOOOOO!!!"
The light consumed everything.
A flash of white light tore through the chamber.
And just like that… Astor's soul slammed back into his body. His eyes snapped open—no longer distant, no longer hollow.
Red— Burning red.
But the world he returned to… wasn't welcoming.
The heat of a curse-seeped aura wrapped around his neck like a vice.
He was dangling, gasping, in the grasp of Malakar Veilgrave—his clawed, hand clenched tight around Astor's throat like he was nothing more than a discarded tool.
The Dark Lord smirked, watching the boy come to.
Malakar (mocking):
" I wish if I could hear your last words."
But Astor didn't hear him. Not fully. Because something else screamed louder than the pressure on his windpipe— Starmon.
The memories hit him like a divine slap to the heart. The final words, The tears, The sacrifice.
Astor's pupils trembled.
A rumble stirred inside him—deeper than rage, more terrifying than sorrow.
It built up like a storm cracking the inside of a sealed bottle.
His eyes widened, and then—he screamed.
An eruption of pure white energy blasted from his body like a star imploding.
Malakar's eyes flickered just for a second—before the blast struck.
BOOOOOOM!
The walls of Morpheous's house shattered, vaporized by the surge. Malakar flew backward through the wall, smashing into trees far beyond the clearing.
The entire right side of the house was obliterated. Dust and glowing debris swirled in the air.
Astor fell hard to the ground.
He landed on both knees—his chest rising, falling. Shaking.
He didn't chase. He didn't speak.
He just stared at his trembling hands. The energy was still flickering from his fingertips. Not red. Not curse. Pure White.
Astor (softly): "Why... why would you do that, Starmon?"
His voice cracked. A single tear streaked down his face.
He clenched both fists so hard his knuckles turned bone-white. But he didn't rise.
For the first time in a long time— Astor didn't feel fury. He didn't feel vengeance. He felt… loss.
The world had returned him. But it had taken everything else away.
And in that silence, as the dust settled, and the sun began to break through the smoke-filled sky—
Astor whispered again.
Astor: "I can't do this."
The battlefield had turned into a blood-drenched storm of screams and steel.
The wreckage of Morpheous's half-destroyed house smoldered, wood and ash crumbling beneath the weight of silence.
In front of him, Malakar Veilgrave stood tall. His sword changed back into Staff.
Astor was kneeling in the center of the chaos, breathing heavily, eyes shadowed beneath the veil of his damp black hair. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the ache of losing someone who gave up everything for him.
Malakar's voice echoed, cold and detached.
Malakar:"What was that burst?"
He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with calculation.
Malakar:"Glad you came back. I almost missed the chance to hear your final words."
Astor didn't look up. His hands remained clenched, his breath shallow.
Malakar (mocking):"Tell me... where were you? Lost in a dream? Talking with ghosts? Who did you see there? Your parents? A long-lost friend? Maybe... a girl you couldn't save?"
Astor's voice cracked, coated with fire and grief.
Astor:"Shut. Up."
Malakar smirked as if he had struck the right nerve.
Malakar:"Oh? Did I touch something deep? I only wanted to ease your pain… Let me send you back there if you really want."
Without warning, he raised his hand and launched a barrage of black cursed shards, each sharp enough to pierce bone and soul.
Astor's arms rose on instinct.
Astor:"NULL."
A radiant blue magical circle shimmered into existence before him—elegant, ancient, and absolute. The curse shards evaporated the instant they struck the shield, disintegrating into mist.
Astor staggered slightly, the effort visible. He lowered his arms and head, panting.
Malakar's eyes narrowed.
Malakar (thinking):"All of them... vanished? What kind of magic was that?"
In a blink, he summoned Astor's profile in his eyes—his gaze gliding across his internal data. His smirk grew colder as he spotted a peculiar line.
Malakar (reading):"Magic of Creation..."
He stepped closer. Slow. Measured.
Malakar:"You're an anomaly. A true rare piece. Join me. You'd rise quickly—perhaps even lead."
Astor didn't lift his head.
Astor (flatly):"I'm not interested."
Malakar halted beside him. His voice dipped into quiet anger.
Malakar:"You think I am dying to get you? Don't flatter yourself. You cost me generals, legions—time. I didn't come here to offer you mercy."
He crouched down slightly, eyeing Astor like a beast ready to strike.
Malakar:"But tell me… is this all you are? The 'Hero YT'? Crying in the ashes of sacrifice? The great warrior, broken the moment his little friends disappeared?"
Astor clenched his fists tighter.
Malakar's tone sharpened like a blade.
Malakar:"You're pathetic. You stood against Duskbanes, Faelthorn, and even Maldir… but now? Now you just kneel and weep."
He leaned in, voice venomous.
Malakar (whispering):"I will kill everyone in this world in front of your eyes and even if they ask for death then I won't give them easily."
Astor's heart twisted at the name "Friends" A fresh wave of emotion surged.
Mary and Starmon.
His head snapped up—eyes blood-red and burning.
His fist launched toward Malakar's face with a guttural yell.
Astor:"RAAAAAH!!"
CRACK!
Malakar caught his punch—mid-air. His expression? Bored.
Malakar:"Do you think this is some kind of movie? or Some anime fantasy where the broken hero suddenly gets stronger and defeats the villain in a blaze of glory?"
He stood tall and then—
WHAM!
Delivered a ruthless kick to Astor's jaw that sent him flying across the rubble like a ragdoll.
Astor smashed into Morpheous's house, coughing as dust filled his lungs.
Malakar's voice followed, sharp and cold.
Malakar:"This isn't a story where hope saves the day.
This is reality.
And reality doesn't care how loud you scream."
Astor lay there, trembling… not from fear. But from fury.
The air stood still—every gust of wind felt heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Malakar Veilgrave, cloaked in black and wrath, took a slow step forward. His red eyes gleamed with anticipation, his voice rich with arrogance.
Malakar (mocking):"Now then… the Great Hero YT, Come on and fight me.
Kill me— or I'm gonna kill you already."
Astor slowly rose from the rubble, his breath ragged. Blood lined the corner of his lips. His fists trembled—not from weakness, but rage. Raw, blistering rage.
He stared up at Malakar with burning red eyes.
Astor:"You took everything from me"
His voice cracked, then solidified like steel.
Astor (growling):"And now I'm going to make you pay for all of it!"
Malakar tilted his head to the side and smiled—arms outstretched like he was welcoming a storm.
Malakar (taunting):"Then come, boy. Come and show me what this 'revenge' of yours really looks like."
Astor roared and charged forward, the dirt beneath his feet cracking under the surge of magic that pulsed from him.
The world blurred.
He dashed with blinding speed—eyes wide with fury, hair whipping in the wind. His fist reared back, ready to shatter flesh and bone.
Starmon's Voice (echoing): "Brother!! Kill that MURDERER—Malakar!!
Tell the whole world that no matter how strong darkness grows…
LIGHT will always find a way to BURN IT DOWN!"
Astor's roar split the air.
Astor (shouting):"RAAAHHHH!!"
His punch aimed straight for Malakar's face, grief, and the will of every fallen soul behind him.
But— Malakar tilted his head just slightly.
The punch missed. Then came a flurry of strikes.
Left. Right. Kick. Uppercut. Elbow. Sweep.
Astor unleashed everything.
But Malakar... he was a ghost in the wind.
Ducking. Slipping. Twisting. Effortlessly.
His cloak didn't even flutter from the wind of Astor's attacks.
Malakar (laughing):"That's it? From your yell, I thought you'd blow me to pieces in the first hit!"
Suddenly—
CRACK!
Malakar's fist slammed into Astor's gut. A brutal, clean punch—deep and unforgiving.
Astor's breath caught in his throat. The world slowed.
Pain exploded in his chest as he flew back, skidding across the shattered stone like a lifeless doll, crashing into a chunk of collapsed wall.
Dust and blood lingered in the air like a storm cloud refusing to fade.
Malakar stood still—unscathed. Unbothered.
He wiped invisible dust from his glove and smirked.
Malakar (calmly):"You shout like a lion… But hit like a lamb."
Astor groaned, clutching his side. His mind was swirling—his vision flickering. But his heart?
Still burning.
And it's only getting started. Astor stood again.
Slowly. Painfully. Unyielding.
Blood trickled down his chin, staining the ground beneath his feet. His breaths were short, labored, echoing like thunder in the silence of the field.
Malakar cocked his head, grinning faintly.
Malakar (smirking):"Still breathing? Tch. That's what makes a Hero, huh?
The inability to just die."
Without warning, Malakar vanished.
In an instant, he reappeared behind Astor—then again in front—then to the side—a blur of movement, striking from every direction.
Fists. Blows. Too fast. Too precise.
Astor was thrown around like a ragdoll, unable to counter or even follow.
A final crack across the jaw sent him crashing to his knees, blood spattering from his mouth.
Malakar skidded to a halt and raised his staff. With a thunderous stomp—
Cursed ropes erupted from the ground, wrapping Astor's limbs, yanking him upright like a puppet on strings.
Malakar (coldly):"This is over, Hero. All your effort… all your pain… in vain.
You're not going to save anyone."
He raised his staff to the sky, and a massive black curse sphere began to form above them—pulsing with malice, lightning surging across its edges.
Malakar (declaring):"Farewell, YT."
The sphere descended. But just before it could strike—
Time slowed.
A soft voice echoed in Astor's mind.
"Why don't you fight back?"
A familiar voice.
"Because I don't like fighting... I want a peaceful world—without pain."
It was Mary. They sat near river, sunlight spilling across her face.
"Sometimes things never go as you wish... But if I get into trouble— you'll save me, right?"
Astor had looked at her—so young, so gentle—and nodded.
"Yes. I will."
Then another voice.
"Astor get revenge for Uncle Stephen. Dad, Mary… And for ME!"
The moment the curse ball hit—
BOOM.
A massive explosion shook the forest. Smoke and fire surged into the sky.
Silence followed. Then—
From within the smoke, a blue aura emerged, crackling with raw, awakened energy.
And in the center of the air hovered Astor.
Unburned. Unbound. Unbroken.
His eyes were closed, hair swaying, wounds healing—his breathing calm.
His eyes opened. Red glowing. No—deeper than red. Something new.
He extended both hands, palms raised.
Suddenly— Flames ignited.
Twin infernos swirled in his hands—not fire borrowed, but fire born.
"This is the magic Astor always wished to use… But he never could. Not until today but with which cost?."
"I had an ability…
Magic of Creation."
"I couldn't use it properly…
but maybe… you can."
—Starmon
Astor's hands burned brighter, forming pure balls of concentrated flame. He hurled them forward—
FWOOM!!
The fireballs raced toward Malakar like meteors.
Malakar's eyes narrowed.
Malakar (excited):"Now that's the spirit I wanted."
He moved—dodging between fire strikes.
Malakar vanished into the woods, dodging like a phantom, but Astor —firing magic while spinning midair, sending a continuous barrage like a divine wrath.
Malakar ducked behind a burning tree, eyes glowing with interest.
But Astor wasn't done. He landed. Spun. And launched a fire splash from his arm in a wide arc. The forest ignited, trees exploding with flame as the battlefield lit up in orange and gold.
Malakar (thinking):"Did he just awaken...? Then I'll END him right now."
He moved—full speed, from the shadows, clenched fist raised, aiming for the back of Astor's head.
But— Astor turned.Effortlessly.
Like he'd been waiting for him.
Malakar's eyes widened—
Malakar (shocked):"What...? How?!"
Crackling white-blue energy surged from Astor's palm.
Malakar choked. Malakar tried to stop. For the first time… he hesitated.
Astor clenched his fist. Aura burning.
Malakar narrowed his eyes and scoffed then he raised his staff to protect himself.
Astor charged forward to meet it—and with a single punch, slammed into it mid-air.
CRACK—BOOM!
The staff shattered into splinters, bursting apart from the impact, as Malakar himself skidded back across the broken field, caught off guard.
He caught his balance and threw the snapped halves aside.
Malakar (furious):"You broke my precious staff... Now let's END this."
THE FIGHT BEGINS.
Both of them—barehanded. Fists, feet, magic.
No weapons. No delay. No hesitation.
CLASH.
Astor and Malakar collided midair, fists slamming against each other's, blasts of energy exploding with every hit. Sparks danced off their skin as the aura of curse and creation tore through the battlefield.
Malakar: " CURSE TECHNIQUE – WIDOW'S LASH "
Black whips of energy slashed across the air.
Astor: " LIGHTNING SHOT "
Astor fired electricity from his palm and smashed through the curse whips, darting behind Malakar and slamming a kick into his spine.
Malakar twisted midair, countering with:
Malakar: " CURSE BURIAL "
Dark hands erupted from the ground, grabbing Astor's legs.
Astor shouted:
Astor: " INFERNO BOOST "
His body erupted in flames, melting the cursed hands, launching him forward like a flaming rocket.
They traded hundreds of strikes in seconds—shockwaves leveling trees, burning grass, cracking stone. Every punch felt like thunder. Every block, like a bell tolling the end of days.
In a blink, Malakar slammed his knee into Astor's gut, spinning him midair—then slammed a fist into his back, sending him crashing into a crater.
Astor coughed, blood spraying from his mouth—then healed in an instant.
Malakar hovered above, panting, eyes twitching with fury.
Malakar (growling):
"I should've killed you the moment I saw you…"
He raised his hand, conjuring another curse.
But in that instant—Astor vanished.
He reappeared before Malakar, not with rage—but with focus.
His fist glowed faintly, cloaked not in flame or lightning—but in silence. A deep stillness radiated from it, like the calm at the edge of creation.
Then Astor struck.
NULL.
His fist collided with Malakar's face—and the curse energy didn't just recoil… it vanished. Disintegrated from existence.
Malakar was hurled downward like a meteor, smashing into the ground with a deafening impact. He rolled and skidded, coughing violently.
When he rose, there was no curse aura left in his body—just emptiness. He looked down, and his veins began to regenerate the curse energy from scratch, slowly, painfully.
Eyes wide, voice trembling:
Malakar (gasping):
"Who… are you?"
Astor didn't answer right away.
Instead, a memory flashed—
Flashback – Years Ago
Astor (young, sweaty, punching the air):"Black Fist!"
Lily peeked over her book and asked:
Lily (curious):"What are you doing?"
Astor grinned without looking back.
Astor (grinning):"I'm practicing 'Black Fist.' It says here it was a legendary ability... used by the greatest Hero who ever lived."
Lily:"Black Fist...? Sounds dangerous."
Astor (nodding):"It was. The first user defeated the Demon King with it. It was his gift."
Lily:"Will you ever be able to use it?"
Astor's eyes lit up.
Astor (softly):"Someday, I will... Surely."
Back to present—
Astor's fingers closed tightly into a fist.
A deep black aura—darker than the sky, heavier than steel—swirled around it.
Malakar stepped back instinctively.
He sensed something ancient. Something pure. Something terrifying.
Astor (softly):"Didn't I tell you? If I get another chance then I will be the one to kill you"
Astor dashed.
The wind shattered.
He stopped just in front of Malakar—his aura burning white from the edges, black at the core.
He pulled his arm back. The air howled. His voice roared.
Astor (declaring):"I AM STARMON ASTOR YT!!"
BLACK FIST!
His right hand—cloaked in black lightning and crushing will—slammed into Malakar's chest.
BOOOOOOM.
A white flash swallowed the world.
The trees bent. The air ignited. The sky turned white.
Malakar's body exploded into fragments of cursed energy and was thrown back, his cloak unraveling, he smiled before disappearing.
All that remains is Astor, standing in the ashes, breathing like a storm in human skin.
Eyes still red. Fist still clenched. Body still burning.
The screen fades to white.
Episode Ends.
"Chronicles of YT"
Episode Title: The Chosen One-II