James’s POV
I couldn’t move. My body refused. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs felt like lead. The air was thick, suffocating, as though the weight of the world pressed down on my chest.
The god-beast loomed before us, its massive form framed by the molten glow of its body. Veins of liquid fire pulsed through its obsidian skin, casting eerie flickers of light across the shattered ground. Its molten eyes were locked on us—watching, waiting. It didn’t attack. It didn’t need to.
"Why is it just standing there?" I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.
No one answered.
The only sound was the soft drip of molten rock falling from the beast’s glowing veins and the distant hiss of steam rising from the cracked earth. Its tail swayed lazily behind it, carving shallow trenches in the volcanic rock with every movement. But the rest of it was eerily still, a mountain of living destruction.
"Why... why isn’t it attacking?" Sylvia whispered, her voice trembling.
The oppressive weight of Arthur’s presence pressed down on me, rooting me to the spot. It wasn’t fear. It was despair—an all-encompassing sense that they were utterly powerless.
Thrain shifted, gripping his hammer tightly. "I don’t trust it. Beast’s sizing us up, that’s what it’s doing."
Kael growled, breaking the silence. "It’s mocking us." His claws flexed, glinting in the dim light. "You think I’m gonna stand here and wait to die?"
"Kael, don’t—" Sylvia started, but it was too late.
Kael lunged, his body a blur of motion. His berserker strength ignited, his claws glowing faintly with raw energy as he aimed for the god-beast’s throat.
The god-beast didn’t flinch. Its eyes tracked Kael, but it didn’t move. Not even when Kael’s claws raked across its obsidian skin, sending sparks flying. The impact sounded like nails scraping against stone.
Nothing.
Not a mark. Not a crack. Kael might as well have been scratching at a mountain.
"What the hell?" Kael snarled, landing and spinning around for another strike. He clawed and slashed with a frenzy I’d never seen before. His blows landed again and again, each one met with the same result. The god-beast didn’t react. Didn’t flinch.
It just watched him.
The silence was worse than any roar. Those molten eyes bore into Kael, unblinking, as though he were a fly buzzing around its head.
"Kael, stop!" Sylvia shouted. Her wings flared, glowing faintly as she stepped forward. "You’re wasting your strength!"
Thrain growled, gripping his hammer tightly. "He’s not listening. Damn fool’s gonna get us all killed!"
Kael roared again, leaping high into the air and bringing both claws down in a double strike aimed directly at the beast’s head.
That was when it moved.
Its tail snapped upward, faster than my eyes could follow.
CRACK.
The sound was deafening.
Kael was gone. One moment he was in the air, roaring with defiance, and the next, there was nothing left but blood. A grotesque smear on the ground where he had stood seconds ago.
"Kael!" Sylvia screamed.
I froze. My mind couldn’t process what I’d just seen. One second. That’s all it took. A single flick of its tail, and Kael—Kael, the strongest of us—was gone.
Sylvia’s breathing turned ragged, and she stepped forward, her hands trembling. "Why?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "Why did you do that? He wasn’t a threat to you!"
The god-beast tilted its massive head, its molten eyes narrowing as though considering her words. Its voice rumbled through the air, deep and guttural.
"He chose poorly."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. They weren’t just spoken—they were felt, resonating through the ground, through my chest, through my mind. I clutched my head, trying to block it out, but there was no escape.
Sylvia’s wings flared to a dazzling brilliance, the golden light searing away the oppressive ash that clung to the air. Her eyes burned with resolve, her voice sharp and commanding. "Thrain, we’re doing this—The State."
Thrain’s hammer trembled in his hands as molten veins spread across its surface, glowing brighter than ever before. His jaw tightened, a mix of anger and fear flashing across his face. "You’re mad, angel. But if we’re dying, let’s make it count."
I froze, my mind racing. The State. I’d only heard whispers of it—an ultimate technique taught by the Avatars to their chosen champions, a last-ditch power reserved for only the direst of moments. It could triple their strength, their speed, their very essence. But the cost… one minute of godlike power, once a year. No more.
"Don’t—" I started, but Sylvia cut me off with a sharp glare.
"We don’t have a choice, James," she said, her voice trembling under the weight of her own resolve. "Run, if you can."
Her wings flared wider, the golden light blinding as she whispered something under her breath. It wasn’t a prayer. It was a promise.
The air around Thrain rippled with heat as he slammed his hammer into the ground, molten rock surging upward like a living thing. "Sylvia," he growled, his voice guttural and heavy, "don’t miss."
Together, they activated The State.
Sylvia’s wings ignited into blazing arcs of divine energy, her entire form radiating an aura that felt otherworldly. Thrain’s body grew bulkier, molten veins pulsing along his arms and chest as his hammer glowed like the heart of a dying star.
The air itself seemed to bend around them. The oppressive weight of the god-beast’s presence lessened for just a moment, as if even it recognized the force they now wielded.
Sylvia moved first.
She vanished in a blur of light, reappearing above the god-beast’s head. Beams of concentrated light shot from her hands, each one crackling with divine fury. They struck the beast’s molten eyes, forcing it to finally blink, its massive head tilting ever so slightly under the onslaught.
Thrain roared, the ground beneath him fracturing as he surged forward. He moved faster than I thought possible, his hammer trailing streams of molten rock as he swung it with impossible force. It connected with the beast’s obsidian flank, and for the first time, the sound of cracking stone filled the air.
A scratch.
The god-beast shifted its massive frame, molten energy bleeding from the thin line of damaged flesh. It didn’t flinch. It didn’t roar. Its molten eyes simply glowed brighter, watching them with what I could only describe as amusement.
"More!" Sylvia shouted, her voice reverberating like thunder. She poured everything into her attacks, beams of divine light hammering into the beast’s head, its chest, its legs. The scratches deepened, but they were still scratches.
Thrain followed her lead, each swing of his hammer sending molten shockwaves rippling across the beast’s obsidian skin. He struck the same spot again and again, widening the crack until a chunk of the beast’s armor-like hide broke away.
It regenerated.
Right before my eyes, the molten veins pulsed, knitting the broken flesh together as though nothing had happened.
"No..." I whispered, my voice drowned out by the sound of Thrain’s hammer meeting stone again and again. "It’s not enough."
The god-beast tilted its head, its molten eyes locking onto Sylvia. "You burn bright," it said, its voice cold and detached. "But flames that burn too brightly snuff themselves out."
It raised its massive claw, glowing with destructive energy. Sylvia didn’t stop, her light intensifying as she charged again, her wings slicing through the air like blazing swords.
The claw came down.
Thrain moved, faster than I’d ever seen him, his hammer swinging upward to intercept the attack. The impact sent a shockwave through the air, shattering the molten ground beneath them. Sylvia faltered mid-air, the recoil knocking her back.
"You’ll get yourself killed!" Thrain bellowed, his hammer trembling as he struggled to hold the beast’s claw at bay.
"Then we die fighting!" Sylvia screamed, her wings flaring once more.
The god-beast’s lips curled back in what might have been a smile. "Futile."
It shifted its weight, pressing down harder. Thrain’s legs buckled, the molten veins across his body dimming as The State began to take its toll.
"No!" Sylvia yelled, diving in with a beam of light aimed at the beast’s exposed flank.
The beam hit true, tearing another chunk of obsidian flesh away. It regenerated instantly, the molten energy sealing the wound as though it had never existed.
The god-beast’s tail lashed out, faster than even their enhanced states could react. It struck Sylvia mid-flight, sending her crashing into the molten ground with a sickening crack. Her wings flickered, the divine light dimming.
"No!" I screamed, rushing forward before I even realized what I was doing.
The god-beast’s molten eyes shifted to me. "You should not move, mortal. Your frailty is apparent."
I froze, my legs trembling as its gaze bore into me. The weight of its presence alone felt like it was crushing my very soul.
Thrain let out a guttural roar, his hammer glowing with one last surge of molten energy. He swung it upward in a desperate, all-or-nothing strike aimed directly at the beast’s head.
It caught the hammer mid-swing.
With its claws.
The molten veins across Thrain’s body dimmed completely as The State faded. His hammer cracked, the molten glow extinguished as the god-beast squeezed. The weapon shattered into molten shards, the force sending Thrain sprawling.
Sylvia groaned, trying to rise, but her wings were broken, her light flickering weakly.
The god-beast loomed over them, its massive form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the world.
"Enough," it said.
The word wasn’t loud, but it stopped them both in their tracks. The pressure in the air intensified, crushing down on us like a tidal wave. I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my mind reeling from the sheer weight of its presence.
+
This wasn’t something we could fight. This wasn’t a creature. It was a force—a living calamity.
"Who sent you?" the god-beast asked, its molten gaze sweeping over us. "Why are you here?"
Sylvia, trembling, lowered her hands. "We—we were sent to investigate. To stop the threat you pose."
The god-beast tilted its head. "And you thought you could?"
Its voice dripped with disdain, but there was no anger in it. Only cold indifference.
"You killed Kael," Sylvia said, her voice wavering. "Why?"
The god-beast’s gaze fixed on her. "He tried to run. Do you think prey escapes the hunter?"
Thrain gritted his teeth, stepping in front of Sylvia. "If you’re so damn powerful, what do you want from us?"
The god-beast’s eyes glowed brighter, molten veins pulsing across its body. "Answers."
I felt its gaze shift to me, and a cold dread settled over me. "Tell me," it said. "What lies beyond this wasteland? The realms. Your ’Avatars.’ Their strength. Their purpose."
Sylvia’s wings drooped, and her voice cracked. "Why do you care?"
The god-beast’s eyes burned hotter. "Because I will burn this world to ash. And I will know what stands between me and the gods."
The finality of its words sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t a threat—it was a promise.
Sylvia stepped forward again, desperation in her voice. "You don’t have to do this. We can help you."
The god-beast’s tail twitched, sending tremors through the ground. "Help me?" It laughed, a sound so cold it felt like the air itself froze. "You tremble in my shadow, yet you think to offer me aid?"
It raised a massive claw, glowing with molten energy, poised to strike.
"Stop!" I shouted, forcing myself to my feet. "I’ll stay! Just… don’t hurt them."
The god-beast paused, its claw hovering mid-air. It turned its gaze to me, its molten eyes narrowing. "You would stay?"
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"Yes," I said, my voice shaking. "Just let them go."
The silence stretched, the god-beast studying me. Then, slowly, it lowered its claw.
"They may leave," it said, its voice cold and absolute. "But you will remain."
Sylvia spun toward me, her eyes wide. "James, no—"
"Go," I said, cutting her off. "You can’t fight this. None of us can."
Thrain hesitated, his hammer trembling in his hands. "Boy…"
"Please," I said, my voice breaking. "Just go."
Sylvia’s wings drooped, tears welling in her eyes. She grabbed Thrain’s arm, pulling him back. "We’ll come back for you, James. I promise."
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
As they retreated, I stood alone before the god-beast. Its gaze bore into me, unyielding, and I knew there was no escape.
"Now," it said, its voice rumbling like thunder. "You will answer me."