Elius narrowed his eyes as the swirling maelstrom of lightning, psychic shockwaves, and illusionary fog ripped through the floating debris around them.
The sand tombs cracked and buckled, power seething like a tidal wave breaking through a dam.
The mont teetered on chaos, an unstable eruption of unrestrained synergy between three corrupted powers.
But then, as if a piece of the puzzle fell perfectly into place within his mind, Elius’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
"I see what’s happening now," he muttered.
His tone shifted. Not one of fear—but of control.
"You still think combining your broken powers will give you a chance?" Elius said, his voice now echoing unnaturally across the floating terrain. "You really are desperate."
In an instant, his form shimred. His outline faded like a dying fla, only to be replaced with a whisper of smoke.
Ghost Walk.
Like a streak of grey wind, he was gone.
BOOM!
A gust exploded beside Fraven, who was just lifting a crumbling chunk of rock with telekinesis. Elius’s blade whistled out of nowhere, slicing the rock in half before his foot slamd into Fraven’s chest.
CRACK!
The telekinetic was flung backward, tumbling through midair, coughing up blood.
Before the boy even landed—
SWOOSH!
Elius was beside Shania. Her illusions, which monts ago coated the battlefield in false images and nightmare mirages, evaporated as Elius’s ghostly hand pierced her defenses.
"Again, just like always girls first to take then all out," he whispered with eerie softness.
WHAM!
A sword slamd into her back—not enough to kill, but enough to knock her unconscious again. Her body crumpled like a ragdoll.
Zhark shouted in rage, hurling arcs of thunder that lit the sky in blinding blue forks.
"You son of a bitch, you’ve been enjoying humiliating us, die!"
The ground trembled under the godlike intensity of Zhark’s lightning.
But Elius—he was a ghost in the wind.
CRACK!
Another flash. Another blur.
Zhark’s arms locked up as a dozen spectral blades surrounded him from all sides, floating like a hungry pack of wolves.
"Of course, because I can. You’re all so weak. You’ve always relied on noise and bluster," Elius taunted from behind, his voice like mist. "But you never trained your instincts and now, all of you are paying the price of being a useless Villain."
Zhark turned—
Too late.
SHOOM!
A blade pierced the ground beneath him, sending out a pulse of compressed energy that knocked him off balance. Another slamd into his knee. Then his shoulder. Then one into the space beside his ear—whisper-close.
He scread, shooting lightning in all directions.
But none of them struck Elius.
"You rely on chaos," Elius whispered. "But I am the chaos. I thrive in it and I make the law of chaos work for !"
Suddenly, the ground groaned again. Shattered stone lifted and twisted. The fragnted platform jerked upward, then again. And again. In uneven slabs, tilting, sliding, erupting, rearranging the terrain like a collapsing puzzle. Shania, Zhark, and Fraven—separated again.
And then Elius raised both palms to the sky.
The earth answered.
Massive spires of stone thrust upward from below, forming prison-like walls around each of the three weakened fighters. The debris and floating platforms danced and spiraled under his control.
"You’re not teammates," he said, his voice reverberating unnaturally. "You’re just broken pieces duct-taped together by pain. Pain isn’t enough."
Each ti the ground shifted, they cried out—tumbling, falling, scrambling for balance as stone pillars boxed them in like tombs.
"You still want to be villains?" Elius called out, drifting above them like a ghostly warden. "Do villains cry out when it gets hard? Do they tremble like this?"
Zhark flailed inside his crumbling stone cell, lightning ricocheting off the walls—but Elius’s sand consud the arcs, insulating the electric chaos with a suffocating layer of earthen power.
"You wanted this path," Elius continued. "And now you wear it like shackles."
He turned toward Fraven’s tomb as it snapped shut.
"You could’ve chosen redemption. You chose to mock my offer. Now look at you."
Fraven clutched his chest, gasping as the sand squeezed tighter around his telekinetic limbs. His invisible force shattered against the walls, helpless.
Shania’s illusion flared to life again—one last desperate mirage of herself vanishing—but Elius sent a whisper of sword energy, slicing it like paper.
"I told you... I see through lies."
He closed his hand.
FWOOM.
Her tomb locked into place.
Each of them was now trapped. Indefinitely. Isolated from one another, cut off from vision, energy, hope.
Keith was the last one standing.
The only one.
His eyes were wide—drenched in sweat, bruises trailing down his jaw. His knuckles still bled, but his arms trembled now. Not from rage.
From disbelief.
Elius stood atop the nearest stone tower, robes fluttering like ghost-silk in the distorted wind. His eyes, glowing faintly with ethereal light, gazed down at Keith with calm finality.
"Don’t bother," Elius said, voice level. "They can’t hear you anymore. And even if they could... they wouldn’t answer."
Keith’s fists clenched.
"They’re still my friends..."
"They were your chains," Elius snapped. "Every mont you spent clinging to them pulled you deeper into the abyss. I tried to pull you out. I begged you. But you spat in my face."
Keith stared at the stone prisons.
One of them trembled faintly.
"They weren’t always like this," he said softly. "They were good... once."
"So were you," Elius replied. "But that didn’t stop you from breaking."
A long silence.
Then...
"...Alright."
The word left Elius’s mouth with heavy resolve.
He lifted his palm.
Two perfect cubes shimred into view—spinning slowly in the air above his hand. They rotated gently, floating just inches apart. Each cube pulsed with radiant, golden energy. Etchings of runes and circuits glowed across their surfaces—ancient, futuristic, and divine all at once.
Keith’s eyes widened.
"...What is that?"
Elius didn’t answer.
His gaze lowered to the cubes. They hovered, perfect and still.
The storm had cald.
But sothing far greater was coming.
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