The clash of wills reverberated through the Citadel, the foundation of time itself quaking under the weight of their power. The Void Heralds loomed over them, their very presence warping the space around them, distorting reality as though time was being bent like clay in the hands of gods. The battlefield was no longer just a place—it was a living entity, a realm where the past, present, and future collided in a chaotic symphony of light and shadow.
Jin Long stood at the forefront, the Echoblade pulsing in his grip. Beside him, Yue Lan's aura blazed like the sun, her determination unwavering. Kael, his eyes darkened by the curse of the Mirrorborn, stood with his hand on the hilt of his blade, his body shimmering with ethereal energy. Valen, ever the wild card, had his flames crackling in his palms, ready to set the world ablaze.
They were four against four.
But as Ashkara's blade shimmered with the power to erase existence itself, Jin couldn't shake the feeling that they were already outmatched. The power of the Void Heralds wasn't just raw—it was uncontrollable, like the embodiment of time's darkest secrets.
"Move!" Jin shouted, as the Heralds surged forward.
Ashkara was the first to strike, her sword slicing through the air like a guillotine of nothingness. The blade didn't just cut—it erased. Every swing she made was a strike against the very fabric of existence.
Yue Lan, reacting instantly, raised her hands, forming a barrier of radiant light. The blade collided with the shield, sending ripples through the Citadel's walls, but the barrier held. For now.
"Is that all you can do?" Ashkara mocked, her voice as cold as the void itself. "You cannot stop what is already lost."
Jin's grip tightened on the Echoblade, and with a flash of light, he lunged at Ashkara. His sword clashed against hers, the energy of the Genesis Core surging through him. The power was unlike anything he had ever felt, but the sensation was overwhelming. The weight of the universe pressed against him, pushing him to the brink of collapse.
But he refused to give in.
"No," he breathed, his voice steady despite the chaos. "I'll stop you. I will stop you."
Ashkara sneered. "Fool. You've already lost."
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Kael faced Vorran, the Mouth of Echoes.
Vorran's monstrous form flickered like a shadow, his presence felt in every corner of Kael's mind. Every word the creature spoke echoed with the voices of the dead—whispers of regrets, lost loves, unspoken truths. Each voice was a dagger to the soul, each regret a wound too deep to heal.
Kael's eyes burned with fury. "You will not claim my mind, beast."
Vorran's voice boomed, an unsettling mixture of a thousand voices. "I am regret. I am loss. I am the part of you that will never be whole again."
Kael's sword flashed, slashing through the air, but the moment it struck, it passed through nothingness. Vorran was not simply a physical being—he was an embodiment of lost potential, a creature woven from the very fabric of sorrow.
"You're just a reflection," Kael spat, his voice filled with defiance. "And I've never been afraid of reflections."
With a roar, Kael's body shifted. The Mirrorborn curse surged through him, and his form became a distorted reflection of itself—shifting, stretching, and warping into something far more lethal.
He slashed at Vorran, each strike fueled by a torrent of rage and defiance. Each blow was a scream against the void that tried to consume him.
---
At the same time, Serrik, the Beast of Broken Time, hunted down Valen. The massive, machine-like beast was an abomination of metal and flesh, eternally torn between life and death, with no clear past or future. Serrik's very presence was a distortion of time—his actions happened before and after they occurred, making him almost impossible to predict.
Valen grinned, his flames igniting in his palms as he darted around Serrik, his movements a blur. "Time's no match for fire!"
Serrik roared, his body twisting in impossible ways as it shifted through different moments in time. He lunged at Valen, only to find that the flames he had aimed at him were already several seconds ahead of him.
Valen's flames erupted, engulfing the beast in a conflagration that tore through the very concept of time itself. But as the fire subsided, Serrik reappeared, unscathed—alive and dead in equal measure.
"I'm no mere creature of time," Valen said, his voice calm as his flames began to burn hotter. "I am the spark that starts the fire."
And with that, he struck, the flames of his power leaving trails of destruction that cracked through Serrik's body. Time may have been broken, but Valen was about to show it who was really in charge.
---
And then, there was Lady Nyra, the Shroud of Dreams.
She was a specter, a shadow, a flicker in the minds of the weak. She could pull the very essence of a person's being into nightmares—endless, torturous illusions that stripped them of everything they believed in.
Yue Lan, however, was not so easily swayed.
"You can't take my mind," Yue Lan said, her voice steady even as Nyra's presence wrapped around her like a smothering fog. "I've faced worse than you."
Nyra's eyes gleamed, her smile shifting into something more sinister. "But you haven't faced yourself yet."
Suddenly, Yue Lan found herself trapped in a world of endless doors, each one leading to a different version of herself. Each one was perfect, and each one was broken.
The faces of her loved ones appeared, their voices calling her—demanding that she choose them.
"You don't need to fight anymore," one version of her whispered. "Come back to us. Choose peace."
Yue Lan's heart trembled. But then she remembered Jin Long, her purpose, her promise.
"No," she said firmly. "I choose the truth."
With a flash of light, the illusion shattered. Nyra hissed, recoiling as Yue Lan broke free from the dreamscape.
---
As the battle waged on, Jin Long stood against Ashkara, his sword clashing with hers in a storm of sparks and light. Each strike of the Echoblade tore through the air with the fury of a thousand storms, but Ashkara was relentless. Her blade wasn't just steel—it was the embodiment of nothingness, of the universe's forgotten moments.
And Jin Long felt it.
The pressure. The weight. The realization that the fight was far from over.
But he didn't falter.
"I will never give in," Jin said, his voice echoing through the Citadel. "And I will stop you."