The chain snapped.
It wasn’t loud. It was subtle, almost like a whisper in the air. But the moment it happened, a wave of raw, oppressive power flooded the clearing. The guards froze mid-step, their weapons trembling in their hands. The elves staggered, their knees buckling as they gasped for breath.
A straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders as the broken chains fell to the ground like discarded trinkets. The air around him shimmered, and a faint white halo appeared behind his head, glowing with a light that wasn’t just bright—it was alive.
"A white halo," one of the elves muttered, their voice trembling with awe. "So, the Failed Avatar still carries the mantle of the divine."
A’s grin sharpened, his aura pressing down on the crowd like an unrelenting tide. "Failed? Funny how that word keeps following me around. Tell me, does it still sting, knowing the ’failure’ of humanity stands on equal footing with your god?"
The guards stiffened, their hands tightening on their weapons. One of them stepped forward, a sharp glint in his eye. "Hold your tongue, human. You stand before the Eternal Guide, a true Avatar, not some deserter who—"
A sharp crack echoed through the clearing as A raised a single finger. The oppressive weight of his full power surged forth. The guards faltered, their weapons trembling as if the very metal was bending under the pressure.
A straightened, his white halo blazing brighter, its light cutting through the canopy like a second sun. His eyes locked onto the guard who had spoken, his grin widening. "You were saying?"
The elf took a step back, fear flickering across his face, but A turned his attention back to C. The elven Avatar hadn’t moved, his emerald eyes fixed on A with the calm intensity of an ancient predator.
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C lifted his staff, the motion deliberate and slow. The ground beneath them trembled as his aura spread like the roots of a great tree, entwining itself with the earth. The green halo behind him ignited, its light pulsing in a steady rhythm that seemed to command the air itself to still.
"You’re predictable, A," C said, his voice even. "Still clinging to your theatrics. Still trying to prove a point."
"And you’re still clinging to that stick," A shot back, gesturing to C’s staff. "Compensating for something, old friend?"
The gathered elves gasped at the audacity, but C’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You overstep your bounds, A," C said, his tone gaining an edge. "This is not your domain."
"And yet, here I am," A replied, spreading his arms. "Funny thing, boundaries. They don’t seem to mean much when the world’s falling apart. Or have you forgotten what’s coming?"
C’s green eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, the air itself seemed to recoil. A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, bending trees and flattening grass. The glow of their halos dimmed momentarily, not out of submission but in recognition of something ancient and primal.
Both A and C turned their heads sharply, their auras withdrawing like coiled springs as their gazes locked onto the same distant point on the horizon.
A felt it too—a pressure unlike anything he’d felt before. His breath caught in his throat, and a chill ran down his spine. It was power, raw and unrelenting, radiating from a distant point in the direction of the Scorching Badlands.
He inhaled sharply, his senses heightened. That’s not just power. That’s a god-damned ascension.
C turned his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His voice, usually so calm, betrayed a sliver of unease. "A demi-god has been born."
A’s eyes narrowed as he followed C’s gaze. He could feel it too—the overwhelming aura, the faint scent of vaporized air carried on the wind. His mind raced, piecing together what he already knew.
"Badlands," he said quietly. "That’s where the god-beast was."
C didn’t respond, his expression still as stone. The elves around them stirred uneasily, sensing the shift in the atmosphere but unable to comprehend its significance.
A let out a slow breath, his earlier bravado fading. "Well," he muttered to himself, "this complicates things."
+
The ground trembled with each of Arthur’s steps. Cracks spidered out from his massive claws, molten veins glowing faintly as if the earth itself recoiled from his presence. A faint haze of ash and heat shimmered around his towering frame, distorting the air like a living mirage.
He wasn’t just a beast now. He was the beast of the Badlands, and everything knew it.
Small creatures darted for cover at the sight of his shadow, their survival instincts screaming at them to flee. Even the more ambitious predators—the ones that might have circled him when he was smaller—kept their distance. They didn’t need to see his molten eyes to know death walked among them.
And he was starving.
Arthur’s stomach growled, a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the barren landscape. It wasn’t just hunger—it was a gnawing need, primal and unrelenting. He growled back at it, frustration mounting. The creatures he’d devoured before his evolution were barely a memory now, their essence long since absorbed. This new body demanded more. Much more.
He stopped suddenly, claws digging into the scorched ground. Ahead, a small pack of lizard-like creatures froze, their scales blending into the charred terrain. For a moment, they thought they’d gone unnoticed. Arthur’s molten eyes narrowed.
He didn’t roar. He didn’t need to.
In one fluid motion, his tail lashed out, cutting through the air with a deafening crack. The lead lizard exploded in a burst of ash and blood, its shredded remains scattering across the ground. The others bolted, scampering in every direction, but Arthur didn’t care. He lifted one massive foot and stomped down hard, crushing another beneath his weight. The sickening crunch echoed briefly before fading into silence.
[Congratulations. You have slain: Blisterback Skink. Infamy +2.]
Arthur’s nostrils flared. "Two? That’s all I get for this?" he muttered, his deep voice rumbling more to himself than anything else.
The system didn’t respond. It never did unless it had something important to say.
His claws scraped the ground as he turned his head, scanning for anything larger—something worth his time. The hunger roared louder now, almost as if mocking him. It wasn’t just food he craved; it was power. Each kill fed more than his stomach—it fed the energy thrumming through his veins, the raw force of destruction that grew stronger with every life he extinguished.
He moved on, his massive frame forcing everything in his path to scatter. A few brave—or perhaps stupid—creatures tried to fight.
One leaped at his side, its jaws wide open, rows of jagged teeth aiming for his molten veins. Arthur barely glanced at it before slamming his tail into its side. The creature hit the ground with enough force to leave a crater, its body a mangled, lifeless heap.
[Congratulations. You have slain: Ashfang Ravager. Infamy +5.]
Another charged, a horned beast coated in thick, cracked scales. It lowered its head, its horns glowing faintly as it built up momentum. Arthur didn’t move. He waited, claws flexing against the ground. The beast charged harder, faster, its roar building with each step.
Then, just as it was about to collide, Arthur swung his massive claw down like an executioner’s blade. The beast didn’t even have time to scream. His claw cleaved through it, splitting it cleanly in half, its molten blood pooling at his feet.
[Congratulations. You have slain: Emberhorn Charger. Infamy +8.]
The air grew quieter. The beasts that had watched from a distance slunk back into the shadows, abandoning any thoughts of ambush. Arthur let out a low growl of satisfaction, his molten eyes scanning the horizon.
But it wasn’t enough.
The hunger still gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. He remembered the First Child’s words, the ones that haunted his thoughts like a taunt. Kill everything in the Badlands. Only then will Volcranax appear.
Arthur’s claws flexed. He turned his gaze upward, scanning the jagged cliffs and barren plains that stretched endlessly around him. There was no point in waiting for more to come to him. If he wanted to end this, he needed to hunt.
His wings unfurled, the jagged edges slicing through the ash-laden air. With a single, powerful beat, he lifted himself off the ground, the force of his takeoff sending a shockwave across the Badlands. Dust and ash erupted in a violent plume, and the ground trembled beneath the force of his flight.
Hovering above the wasteland, Arthur roared—a deep, guttural sound that shook the very earth. It wasn’t a roar of warning. It was a challenge.
"Come to me!" his voice rumbled, amplified by the system’s translation. "Face your destruction!"
For a moment, nothing stirred. Then, the ground far below began to shift. A massive centipede-like creature, its body armored with jagged black plates, burst from the earth. Its mandibles clicked furiously as it lunged at the sky, aiming for Arthur’s hovering form.
Arthur grinned. Finally, something worth killing.