Chương 32: Episode 29: Conflict

A shadow pushed through the smoke. Stone peeled, plates shearing apart as each step pressed gravity downward, the ground buckling beneath it. Olsen. From below, he loomed—jagged armor locking into place, stone crawling over his frame in grinding waves, his silhouette sharpening as the dust fled from him like prey.

"Drop the Gem." His voice didn't echo. It cut. The world narrowed to the orange crystal between Krane and Overbrawl. Krane's gaze flicked to it, spiritual fire coiling beneath his skin—violet radiance creeping along his arms in precise, geometric lines. He exhaled slowly, the air trembling with contained pressure.

"…You walked into Zenith territory," he said evenly.

"That was a decision." Overbrawl wiped blood from his jaw. Chaos energy spilled from the cracks in his grin—jagged ribbons of distorted light whipping around his shoulders, crawling across the ground, snapping back like living wire.

"You ever feel the moment before everything breaks?" he laughed.

"This is that moment." Ella stepped forward. Sand lifted, grains vibrating, spiraling into tight halos around her legs.

"If that Gem stays with you," she said, steady, "the world burns." Prince flickered into existence beside her—lightning sprinting across his frame, static rain hissing off his skin.

"So yeah," he added.

"Hand it over." The air lurched. Chaos and spirit rose together. Overbrawl's energy lunged, ripping outward in crooked arcs that sawed through the air. Krane's power followed, a lattice of violet fire climbing the sky, spiraling into controlled rings and hovering sigils. Two Zeniths. Overbrawl tucked the Gem deeper into his scarf.

"Come get it." The battlefield answered. Lava veins ignited beneath the obsidian plain, molten light flooding upward as heat poured into the air, the ground breathing like a living thing.

"Formation C—" Olsen started.

"DONE TALKING." Fire detonated. Archie became a violent brushstroke, a ribbon of incandescent flame slicing across the battlefield. The ground unzipped beneath him, stone exploding in his wake as pressure screamed outward.

"ARCHIE—!" Gone. Archie hit Overbrawl first, flaming fist sawing through space— —and stopped. Overbrawl caught it. Not braced. Not strained. Chaos crawled over his arm, thickening into a jagged gauntlet of molten distortion.

"Too loud," Overbrawl grinned. He twisted. The world whipped. Archie slammed into the ground in a crater of fire and shattered stone, shockwaves rippling outward as his flames stuttered. Olsen charged. Stone surged up his arms, armor forming in jagged spires as he drove a seismic punch toward Krane— Krane raised one hand. Violet energy peeled outward, forming a rotating cube of sigils around Olsen's arm. The punch landed— —and froze. Spiritual fire climbed Olsen's stone, locking joints, freezing motion.

"…Impressive density," Krane observed.

"Poor flexibility." He snapped his fingers. The cube collapsed inward. Olsen was launched, skidding across molten rock, stone tearing loose from his frame. Prince flickered—glitch-stepped—reappearing midair beside Krane in a slashing streak of lightning. The kick landed. Thunder detonated. Krane slid back, boots carving glowing trenches into the ground, violet fire fizzing around him.

"Fast," he said calmly.

"But alone." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Five sigils unfolded behind him, forming a spinning halo of fractured geometry. Prince blurred— —and stopped. Static froze around his limbs as spiritual chains snapped tight. Overbrawl dropped. He didn't fall—he collapsed the sky. Chaos poured downward in a spiraling pillar as he smashed Olsen into the ground again, the impact fracturing the battlefield in widening rings.

"C'mon!" Overbrawl laughed.

"Stay up!" Ella struck from above, sand flooding outward in a spiraling wave— Overbrawl let it hit. Then grabbed her wrist. Chaos snapped tight.

"Too soft." He drove her downward. The earth buckled. Krane flickered—frame-skipped—reappearing behind Archie in a smeared afterimage. Two strikes. Precise. Fire collapsed in Archie's chest, flames sputtering like drowning stars.

"You telegraph," Krane said.

"Every attack."

"SPIRIT MAELSTROM." Violet energy erupted into spiraling lances that chased Archie, carving glowing scars through the air. Ella raised a sand dome— It shattered, fragments scattering like broken constellations. Krane seized her midair and threw. Overbrawl caught her by the skull. Chaos roared. He slammed her into the ground, the impact sending shockwaves racing outward, mountains trembling beneath the force. Then the Zeniths unleashed hell.

Chaos didn't strike—it hunted, whirling in jagged ribbons that snapped and recoiled with every punch. Spiritual fire threaded through it, blades of violet radiance cutting with surgical intent. Olsen collapsed to one knee, blood dark against stone. Prince vanished beneath rubble. Archie struggled to breathe, fire leaking from his fingers in broken pulses. From below, the Zeniths towered. Krane adjusted his stance.

"Finish it." The air hummed. Green light bled into the battlefield. Time stuttered. Ash froze mid-fall. Lava hung suspended, glowing veins paused like frozen lightning. Chaos and spirit locked mid-strike. Eli stood trembling, emerald radiance fuzzing around him, vision lagging as reality strained.

"…Now." He moved outside time. Hands carving arcs through frozen violence, he pulled chaos and spirit apart—misaligning their rhythms, forcing interference. Time snapped back. The Zeniths' energies collided. Chaos surged where precision demanded control. Overbrawl staggered, laughter breaking into surprise. Krane's eyes widened—just a flicker.

"…Temporal desync." That was enough. Archie forced his flames white-hot, driving Overbrawl backward in a spiraling pillar of fire. Prince exploded free, lightning flooding the space point-blank. Olsen surged forward, stone blade growing from his arm. Ella bound debris tight, sand climbing and crushing inward. The Gem tore free, tumbling. Eli snapped a temporal net around it—green energy weaving into a glowing lattice. Krane's watch screamed, unstable light fracturing outward.

"You've forced instability," he snarled. Olsen answered with steel. The blade drove into Krane's chest. Violet fire spilled, spiritual energy leaking into the ground as Krane collapsed. Overbrawl tried to rise. Chaos flickered. He laughed anyway.

"…Worth it." Silence followed. The Chosen regrouped—ruined, barely standing. Demaurion finally stepped down.

"Wow," Olsen snapped.

"I conserve energy."

"You didn't move!"

"Oceananites are built different." Eli lowered his hands, emerald glow fading as he secured the Gem. Olsen wiped blood from his face.

"We didn't win," he said.

"We survived." He turned.

"Don's still out there. Move." At Celestia The sky over Celestia stayed wrapped in golden clouds, like the whole kingdom had its own permanent sunset. Towers rose up everywhere—massive gold, white, and yellow buildings shimmering like they were carved from sunlight itself. Streets glowed golden. Sidewalks sparkled. Even the poles had glitter sprinkled on 'em. Dragons flew overhead, cutting through sunbeams like living comets.

The air buzzed with the wingbeats of Celestianite dragons, their white and gold scales flashing in the light. Below them, millions of Celestianites filled the kingdom—dragons and people both. Shimmering scales. Feathered tails. Armor flashing. From a distance, past the crowded city blocks, stood a giant golden staircase leading up to a blinding set of gates. Behind those gates sat Celestia Castle: a towering monster of a structure with ten golden spires stabbing into the sky so high the top disappeared into space.

The tallest tower touched the stars, literally. A flag with a golden dragon emblem waved at the peak. Inside that castle, top floor, golden everything: four figures sat at a long, shining table in the middle of a room big enough to feel like its own sky. Jaylen. Guervens. Coltz. Prince Lock. Golden arc-windows wrapped around the chamber like a halo, each one spilling shimmering light across the marble floor.

Outside, clouds drifted through starlight—like the whole meeting was happening inside a floating palace above the sky. Prince Lock sat at the far end of the long crystal table. Still. Unmoving. Silent. His white scales glowed like moonlit armor, subtle pulses rippling under the surface. One horn shimmered purple, the other gold. Purple stardust fell from his wings every time he shifted even an inch. The golden bands around his tail chimed softly whenever he breathed. Nobody in that room dared interrupt Lock.

Jaylen sat to his right—calm, precise, focused. Cyan eyes sharp behind yellow-cyan Celestianite armor. His retractable wings folded neatly against the chair like they were waiting to snap open at a moment's notice. Coltz lounged across from him, slumped sideways in the chair like he was at a sleepover instead of a war meeting. Golden energy flickered at his fingertips as he spun a glowing pebble like a coin. Then there was Guervens. Red-and-black armor. Magma scars glowing under his dark skin.

The kind of dude you heard before you saw. And today? He was at 110%. He slammed both palms on the crystalline table, voice echoing like a volcano clearing its throat.

"Ay, Jaylen! You dragged us up to the top floor for WHAT? To vibe? To meditate? To look at clouds like philosophers?" Jaylen didn't even blink.

"We've got a problem. Lunaranites." Guervens groaned so loud the windows rattled.

"Bro. AGAIN? Nah—nah, this is déjà vu. I swear we did this EXACT meeting like four times—" Jaylen raised a hand.

"This isn't a repeat. This one's different." Coltz didn't look up from his glowing coin.

"Different how? They get taller? Shinier? Smell worse?" Lock finally moved. Just his eyes. A slow turn. Sharp as blades.

"No jokes," Lock said quietly.

"This isn't a food raid. It's war." Jaylen stood, tension coiled in every movement.

"Colton's last intel run confirmed it. They're mobilizing again. But this time, something's off." Coltz stopped spinning the pebble. Guervens straightened, heat radiating off him. Jaylen clenched his fists, burst of cyan energy flicking across his knuckles.

"Dreadixz wasn't the one giving orders." Silence slammed into the room. Even Lock's wings froze mid-glimmer. Guervens squinted.

"Wait—so who's bossing Lunaranites around now? Who's above Dreadixz?!" Jaylen shook his head.

"I don't have a face. Not yet. Just a name." The room leaned in.

"Midnight." Guervens's chair flew backward as he leapt to his feet.

"MIDNIGHT?! The ONE hour I'm actually asleep? That's disrespectful at this point!" Lock folded his wings, voice low.

"They're striking when our guard drops. Classic predator timing." Jaylen pointed at the glowing map projected above the table.

"And our numbers? Worse than last cycle. With King Vigilzante gone—" Coltz wiped his grin off his face.

"Man carried the kingdom on his back…" Jaylen nodded.

"Which means we're outmatched. And out-timed. We need outside help." Guervens jabbed a finger at him.

"Then SAY it, Jaylen! Quit monologuing and tell us the plan!" Jaylen inhaled slow. Then he said it:"We're pulling in the Chosen Ones." The atmosphere snapped. Air tightened. Even the light felt different. Coltz sat up, golden sparks crackling across his shoulders.

"Finally something fun." Guervens slammed a fist into his palm.

"Good.

'Cause I've been waiting to see them in action." Prince Lock rose from his seat, wings opening just enough to fill the room with drifting stardust.

"Prepare the Celestianites," Lock ordered.

"And tell them to move fast." His eyes gleamed like twin eclipses.

"Midnight is near."