The sky cracked like shattered glass.
Lightning raged across the endless horizon of the Lightning Realm—an obsidian wasteland where storm clouds never cleared, thunder never slept, and time itself seemed warped by the wrath of the heavens. There were no trees. No shelter. Only sharp, jagged rocks and a suffocating, electric pressure that hummed in the air like a war drum waiting to erupt.
Kyota stepped forward alone, his hair already standing on end as static clung to his skin. The moment his foot touched the scorched black soil, the clouds screamed.
Day 1.
A spear of lightning slammed down—no warning, no time.
Kyota spun, barely evading the blast, but it scorched his back, leaving a seared line of pain that made him stagger. He growled, fists clenched, cursed marks flickering. "If you think I'll kneel… you're wrong."
He raised his hand—and challenged the sky.
The lightning answered.
A blinding bolt struck down, and Kyota met it with raw mana, forming a shield of flame and force. The impact shattered his stance, launching him into a jagged cliffside. Blood burst from his mouth. His right arm trembled, nearly dislocated.
He stood again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, lightning struck harder. Each time, he got back up—screaming at the storm, refusing to surrender.
By nightfall, his robes were ash. His body steamed with burns. But he smiled, whispering, "Come on then. Burn me. I'll still be standing tomorrow."
Day 2.
Yuki watched from inside the safety of the wizard's cliffside cottage—her hands clenched over her chest. "He's… pushing too hard."
The wizard stared through the portal window, unmoving. "That's what it means to chase power like this. Lightning doesn't bend—it either breaks you, or gets broken."
Day 3.
Kyota meditated, legs folded on black rock, his body bruised and blackened. He tried to focus on the currents of mana, to calm his soul like he had with fire and water.
But lightning was different. It didn't flow. It struck.
It didn't listen. It screamed.
He tried to shape it with wind, contain it with earth—but every method failed. The storm above seemed to laugh.
Day 4.
Kyota stood again beneath the sky. "Let's go. Round two."
This time, the clouds answered with something worse than bolts.
A form.
It was as if the lightning coalesced into a figure—a being of pure plasma, humanoid in shape, with glowing blue-white cracks of energy and eyes like stormfire. The thunder entity descended like a god.
Kyota charged it head-on.
Their clash shattered the realm's silence. Fists met lightning. Mana exploded across the terrain. Kyota ducked a blast to the head and slammed a burning kick into the figure's chest—but the entity retaliated with a storm surge that sent him flying into a lightning-struck pillar.
His ribs cracked. Vision blurred.
Still, he laughed. "Getting serious now?"
The entity didn't speak. It struck again.
Kyota blocked with both arms—only for them to go numb from the force. His cursed marks flickered. His internal mana circuits strained.
He collapsed as the figure vanished.
Thunder rumbled like mocking laughter.
Day 5.
He couldn't rise.
Yuki tried to step into the realm, but the wizard stopped her. "Don't. He asked for this path. If you interfere now, everything he's endured will mean nothing."
She whispered, "Then what if he dies?"
The wizard was silent for a long time. "…Then we'll know he wasn't ready."
Day 6.
Kyota crawled forward—skin shredded, teeth bloodied, breaths shallow.
Each crawl burned.
The storm never stopped.
He stared into the sky and roared, "I am NOT your enemy—I am your heir!"
But the storm didn't listen.
Day 7.
Kyota stood for the final time.
One leg trembling. His arms bound with scorched cloth. His mana? Gone. His core felt hollow. When he tried to gather energy, nothing came.
Still, he faced the storm. "Come. Let's end this."
The storm figure returned—this time crackling with fury.
Kyota tried to swing. The figure dodged and struck.
Lightning pierced his side.
He screamed, his body convulsing as electric venom rushed through every nerve. He fell—his hands unable to catch himself. His body sizzled against the hot stone.
The entity hovered above him, watching coldly.
Then it vanished again—leaving Kyota half-dead and defeated.
He lay there as the night—brief as it was—crept in.
Day 8.
The morning sky blazed with static. Kyota didn't move.
Inside the cottage, Yuki paced. "He's not healing. He… he hasn't moved in hours."
The wizard stood, worried. "He was supposed to return today. But I'll go."
As he opened the door, Kyota was already there—limping.
"Where are you going?" the wizard asked, shocked.
Kyota didn't answer. He stepped past him.
"You failed," the wizard said quietly. "The contract was 7 days. Don't shame yourself by—"
Kyota stopped. "I don't care about contracts."
The wizard narrowed his eyes. "You can't even access mana."
"I don't need it," Kyota said, his voice low. "Not today."
He walked back into the lightning field—bleeding, burned, bones fractured. He looked up at the sky and whispered, "I'm not here to fight."
The sky didn't strike.
Instead, the storm clouds churned. The thunder figure emerged again—but it didn't attack.
Kyota raised one arm—his fingers trembling, one extended.
"Come here," he whispered to the lightning. "I won't tame you. I'll understand you."
The air rippled.
Then—lightning surged down.
Yuki screamed from afar—but the bolt didn't hit Kyota. It spiraled.
And then—it danced.
The lightning formed a ring, then coiled into a glowing sphere—buzzing and humming—resting like a heartbeat of energy atop Kyota's outstretched finger.
He didn't flinch.
He simply stared at it, eyes hollow yet clear. "We're the same, aren't we? Rage. Chaos. No one ever tried to understand you."
The sphere pulsed.
He turned to the cottage.
The wizard stared—stunned. "What…?"
He stepped forward slowly, eyes wide. "You… didn't conquer it. You… made it listen."
Lightning sparked gently across Kyota's shoulders, wrapping around his broken body like a protective shroud. Calm. Alive.
The wizard whispered, "You're the only one to tame lightning like this…"
Then louder, shaken: "…Who are you, Kyota?"
Kyota looked up at him, not smiling—but calm. "Someone who refuses to lose again."
The storm above was silent.
For the first time in centuries—the Lightning Realm rested.