The crowd's vision was partly shrouded by the explosion's lingering smoke, a thick haze that turned the arena into a battlefield of shadows and echoes. Every other interval, the sharp clang of steel reverberated through the fog, sparks of static faintly visible like distant lightning flashes piercing the gloom, accompanied by the crackle of splintering bark and the low groan of straining wood.
Seasoned warriors in the stands leaned forward, their senses attuned to the rhythm—the sluggish weight behind each strike, the hesitant blocks that spoke not of peak Cosmic prowess, but of amateurs pushed beyond their limits, desperation fueling every labored swing.
Anticipation hung thick as the smoke began to clear, wisps parting like reluctant curtains. What the crowd saw next shook them to their core—a gasp rippling through the parted red sea like a wave crashing against unseen shores.
Half of Shona's face was engulfed in writhing vines, the viral decay spreading like ink through water, sapping his strength and twisting his features into a mask of torment. He gripped his spear with two hands, slowly raising it horizontally to block an upward vertical slash from Astrength. The impact thundered through the air, forcing Shona to stumble back slightly, his legs buckling under the strain, static flickering erratically along his armor as the roots tightened their hold.
Astrength pressed the advantage, his movements labored but relentless—his tree-like form creaking with each step, the gaping hole in his stomach a raw, festering wound where tendrils desperately tried to reconnect, only to be jolted apart by lingering electricity from the divine lance, sparks hissing like angry serpents.
Both warriors teetered on their last legs, breaths ragged, bodies battered—Astrength raising his arm for a downward strike that seemed to carry the weight of falling empires. Shona rolled left, the blade slamming into the ground with a earth-shaking boom, debris exploding outward in a shower of shattered stone and splintered vines.
Completing his roll, Shona lunged his spear forward in a desperate thrust—Astrength shifted slightly right, his left hand wielding the sword to parry. The weapons ground together in a screech of metal on bark, sparks flying as the spear tip scraped along the blade's edge, the friction sending vibrations up both warriors' arms.
The arena held its breath, the crowd's murmurs silenced by the raw, visceral struggle below—two titans reduced to mortal desperation, their every move a testament to will over waning power, the outcome hanging by a frayed thread as the fight dragged on into its grueling depths..
With his plated right hand, Astrength launched a punch forward—it connected with Shona's jaw in a bone-jarring crack, snapping his head to the side, blood spewing from his mouth in a crimson arc that glistened under the arena's ethereal lights.
Shona recovered in a blur, his lower right arm whipping upward in a vicious uppercut—fist slamming clean into Astrength's armored chin with a metallic clang that echoed like thunder. The impact hurled Astrength backward through the air, his massive form twisting mid-flight before crashing onto his back, the ground quaking under the force, iron plates ringing out in a deafening peal that reverberated through the stands.
No time to spare—Shona leaped skyward, gripping his spear in two hands as he descended like a vengeful storm, thrusting downward with all his might. Astrength rolled left in a desperate twist, the spear piercing the stone where he'd lain, embedding deep with a crunch that sent cracks spiderwebbing across the arena floor.
Astrength surged back to his feet, his single red eye locking onto Shona with unblinking intensity as the lightning wielder yanked his weapon free, sparks dancing along the shaft.
They began circling each other then—slow, predatory steps, eyes never breaking contact, the air between them thick with unspoken lethality. Each knew a single misstep could end it; the crowd's murmurs fell to a tense hush, the parted sea below undulating like a living pulse.
In unison, they lunged—steel and bark colliding in a blur of motion. Spears and blades flashed through the air, every strike and parry detonating in shockwaves that rippled outward, the ground fracturing beneath their feet.
Astrength then left an opening—deliberate, a gap in his guard like bait on a hook. Shona seized it instantly, shifting his spear to his lower left arm in a seamless twist and driving it upward with surgical precision. The tip pierced Astrength's shoulder in a spray of sap-like blood, the wound hissing as arcs of lightning crackled through the bark.
Astrength didn't flinch—instead, he swiped his sword horizontally in a brutal counter, the blade whistling through the air. Shona realized the trap too late, releasing his grip on the spear and crouching low to evade—the sword passing inches above his head, close enough to ruffle his hair.
Astrength anticipated it, raising his sword high and slashing downward in a crushing arc. Shona stared upward, time slowing to a crawl—the blade mere inches from carving his face in two, its dark edge gleaming with the promise of finality.
In that moment of despair, Shona lifted his gaze to the GodKing seated high upon his throne—a distant silhouette against the fractured sky. His mind slipped backward, drawn into a memory long buried: he was small again, cradled in his mother's arms as they walked through an unfamiliar hall. The walls glowed with pulsing runes, veins of light threading through the stone, the air thick with incense and the faint hum of cosmic energy.
They arrived before a pair of grand doors—towering slabs of star-forged metal etched with shifting symbols that refused to stay still. With one of her ten arms, Ta'Narsha pushed them open, the hinges groaning like the stir of ancient gods.
Inside, tomes of scripture floated lazily through the air, their pages whispering secrets in languages lost to time. Young Shona reached out with chubby fingers to grab one, giggling as it darted away like a playful bird, revealing the figure at the room's far end: a man in full armor, lounging lazily on a throne that seemed carved from the void itself. Despite his relaxed posture, power radiated from him in waves—palpable, like the heat of a distant star pressing against Shona's skin.
"Who is that?" Shona asked, his voice a tiny echo in the vast chamber, eyes wide with a mix of fear and wonder.
Ta'Narsha smiled down at him, her expression warm yet laced with the weight of destiny. "He is the GodKing... your uncle."
"Uncle?" Shona repeated, confusion knitting his small brow, the word foreign on his tongue.
She nodded gently, setting him down on the cool stone floor. Her hand patted his back—a silent signal to go forward, to bridge the chasm between them.
Shona hesitated, his tiny legs rooted in place, the figure ahead scary in his imposing stillness. But he mustered a spark of courage and took a step—then another, but this time he felt... different, a year older, his limbs a fraction longer. Another step, and he aged two years more, his stride surer. Then three years with the next, confidence building like layers of armor. Twenty years in a single bound, his body filling out with youthful strength. Fifty years, maturity etching lines on his face. A hundred years, wisdom deepening his gaze. Until finally, at 311 years old, he arrived—standing tall and proud, a warrior forged in time's crucible, facing his GodKing, his uncle, his savior with unyielding reverence.
"Tonight, you will be promoted to Commander," the God-King declared.
Shona gave a single nod. "Yet many still… doubt me."
The GodKing descended the dais, his robes whispering against the marble with each unhurried step. He did not spare Shona a glance as he passed.
Shona bowed his head, shame flickering across his features. He knew better than to let the whispers of others weigh upon him... but still, they lingered—like echoes that refused to fade.
Then, cutting through the heavy silence, an arrogant laugh echoed through the throne hall, the sound bouncing off the marble pillars like a mocking thunderclap. The God-King's voice thundered in its wake, "I will offer you no empty comforts. If you are to be my Commander, you must learn to stand tall on your own."
Shona lifted his head, the GodKing's words landing like a forge's hammer—striking hard, but leaving him unsure if they forged strength or simply dismissed his fears. He doesn't understand, Shona thought, a flicker of frustration tightening his jaw. But I'll prove them wrong—not with words, but with deeds. Resolve hardened in his chest as he followed the GodKing out of the hall, the great doors swinging shut behind them with a resounding boom.
The memory dissolved like mist under dawn's light, pulling Shona back to the present—his eyes still fixed on the GodKing's throne, high and unyielding. As before, no words of comfort came from his uncle, no promises of reassurance.
But Shona, older now and tempered by battle, finally grasped the truth behind that silence—not cold indifference, but the forge's harsh mercy, shaping raw ore into unbreakable steel.
If you cannot respect yourself, how can you expect others to respect you?
He exhaled, eyes narrowing on Astrength's descending blade—its dark edge whistling through the air like a verdict of fate, the final test in a life spent proving his worth.