James couldn’t breathe.
The air around him felt too thick, as if the atmosphere itself had been warped by the sheer magnitude of the beast breaking free. Arthur’s cocoon, once a massive prison of molten energy, split down its center with an earsplitting crack. The sound reverberated like a thousand bells shattering at once, followed by a shockwave that knocked him onto his back.
"Gods…" Sylvia’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling with awe and terror.
James pushed himself up, his body trembling. The world seemed to shrink as he looked upon the emerging form.
First came the claw—massive and jagged, its obsidian surface pulsing with molten veins of fiery destruction. It dug into the ground, carving deep fissures into the volcanic rock. Another claw followed, each movement deliberate and impossibly heavy, as if the earth itself groaned under the weight of its presence.
Then came the head.
Arthur’s obsidian skull rose above the broken cocoon, his elongated horns crackling with arcs of destructive energy. His molten eyes opened, twin orbs of searing light that seemed to pierce into James’s very soul. His breath was a low, guttural growl, vibrating the ground and sending ripples through the air. Steam and ash erupted around him, the sheer heat of his body igniting the very air.
James wanted to scream, but his voice was caught somewhere deep in his throat. Arthur wasn’t just a beast—he was a force of nature, a god of destruction made flesh.
Elyndor, however, stood his ground, his staff raised high. His face, contorted with both fear and ecstasy, shone with the manic light of someone who believed themselves victorious. "Yes!" he bellowed. "Yes! You are mine to command, god-beast!"
James’s heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet. "Elyndor, stop! You don’t understand!"
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Elyndor didn’t listen. He drove the staff into the ground, and the control rune flared to life, its intricate lines glowing with ancient energy. The summoned spirit writhed above the rune, its form twisting as Elyndor chanted in the ancient tongue.
"Neth’rion venal’ar! Bind! Obey!" The words were guttural and sharp, each syllable striking the air like a lash.
Arthur paused.
For one horrifying moment, the monstrous head tilted, his blazing eyes flickering as if caught in the rune’s spell. The molten light dimmed ever so slightly, and the massive claws stilled. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath.
"It’s working!" Elyndor cried, his voice triumphant. "The god-beast bends to me!"
James’s chest tightened as he watched Arthur, his colossal frame unmoving. For the briefest second, hope flared—hope that maybe, just maybe, the destruction could be contained.
But then Arthur moved.
The flicker in his eyes became a blaze. The molten veins along his body pulsed brighter, more violently, and the energy in the air shifted. It wasn’t submission. It was rage.
The control rune shattered with a deafening crack, its fragments scattering like shards of glass. The summoned spirit let out an unearthly wail as Arthur’s jaws snapped open and closed in one fluid motion. The spirit’s form disintegrated, its essence consumed in an instant.
"No!" Elyndor’s scream pierced the chaos. "No, this isn’t—"
Arthur’s head turned toward him, his molten eyes narrowing with a terrifying focus. The god-beast’s massive body twisted, his obsidian claws digging into the earth as he lunged forward. Elyndor didn’t even have time to react.
James could only watch, frozen in place, as Arthur’s jaws closed around Elyndor with a sickening crunch. The elf’s screams were cut short, his body vanishing into the beast’s maw. Blood and molten energy spilled from Arthur’s teeth as he lifted his head, swallowing with an almost casual motion.
Silence.
James felt his legs give out, collapsing onto the ground as the reality of what he’d witnessed sank in. Elyndor was gone. Devoured. Snuffed out as easily as a flame in a storm.
"Th-the rune…" Thrain’s voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the roaring heat. "It didn’t even… didn’t even touch him…"
Kael stared, his claws trembling. "We’re dead. There’s no way we’re walking away from this."
Sylvia tried to step forward, her luminous wings flaring weakly, but even she seemed cowed by the overwhelming presence of the god-beast. Arthur stood tall now, his full form revealed—an obsidian leviathan towering over them. Every inch of his body radiated molten power, his veins glowing brighter with each passing second. His tail, long and jagged, slammed into the ground behind him, sending another shockwave rippling through the cavern.
The air grew heavier. James could barely lift his head as Arthur’s molten eyes scanned the group. His gaze lingered on each of them, and for a moment, James swore he felt something in that stare—something ancient, something incomprehensible.
The whispers returned.
They weren’t words, not really. Just echoes of emotion—rage, pain, despair—all crashing into James’s mind at once. He clutched his head, his breathing ragged as he fought to stay conscious.
Arthur took a step forward. The ground beneath his claw cracked and melted, the sheer heat reducing it to molten sludge. Another step, and the group instinctively scattered, their earlier unity forgotten in the face of pure survival.
"Run!" Sylvia shouted, her voice breaking. "We can’t fight this!"
James staggered to his feet, his body screaming in protest as he stumbled backward. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Arthur. The god-beast wasn’t chasing them. He didn’t need to. His very presence was enough to crush any semblance of hope.
And yet, as James fell back into a shallow crevice, his chest heaving, he felt it again—that fleeting connection. Arthur’s eyes flicked toward him, just for a moment, and the whispers in his mind grew louder.
"Survive."
The word was clear this time, cutting through the chaos like a blade. It wasn’t a command. It was a challenge. A cruel declaration of the inevitable.
Arthur’s massive form reared back, his molten wings spreading wide as a roar erupted from his throat. It wasn’t just a sound—it was a force. A shockwave of pure destruction energy blasted outward, leveling the terrain and sending jagged shards of obsidian flying. James threw himself to the ground, shielding his head as the wave passed over him.
When he looked up, Arthur was moving. The god-beast turned, his colossal frame disappearing into the ash and molten haze of the cavern. The ground trembled with each step he took, the world itself seeming to bow to his presence.
James slumped against the rock, his breaths shallow and ragged. They had survived. Barely. But at what cost?
"James!" Sylvia’s voice called out, weak but urgent. "Are you—"
"I’m here," he rasped, pushing himself upright. His body ached, his mind spinning, but he was alive. Somehow, against all odds, he was alive.
Kael and Thrain stumbled into view, both battered and covered in ash. They looked at James, then at the devastation Arthur had left behind. No one spoke. No one could.
The god-beast had risen. And they were powerless to stop him.