Lorgagore, the metallic fiend, prowled through the star-filled battlefield, golden-visor eyes glinting like molten embers as they scanned the destruction. His body, forged from the hellish alloys of pandemonic steel, shimmered crimson in the dim light, an overwhelming presence even for one so monstrous. Each step he took exuded power, a mechanical hiss accompanying every movement of his weapons-laden frame.

With a simple wave of his arm, a barrage of lasers erupted from his form, scorching the land and sky alike. A trillion beams tore through his adversaries, reducing them to ash in an instant—save for one. The lone survivor—a target with [40,000,000,000] APeX—barely clung to life. The humanoid staggered back, its body pierced by a searing blast.

"Lorgagore!" its voice tore through the starry expanse out. Lorgagore noted the miserable speck in its palm, gathering in size, power accumulating. His grin widened. Laughable. He'll allow such bravado for the moment, for it won't be long before the creature's hope dies as well. "How did it come to this..." It closed its fist around the glowing ball, the light pulsing between the creases of its fingers.

"Listen up…my people have suffered long enough from you damn monsters! This is for all the people that you've slaughtered! Here…have it! My most powerful attack…this is for them, this is for us, and most of all—THIS IS FOR KORRIAN!" The light burst forth, searing a path toward the fiend, a river of power in its wake. "KOR…RIAN!"

It's laughable. Lorgagore had not used even a fraction of his full power yet, and already he had crushed them all. But there's still room for play, for this Wanderan has proved more durable than his peers. He'll play along. He'll allow the blast to come closer, to test its strength—but he would never fall. No. Lorgagore never loses. Lorgagore always prevails. He will endure until the end.

It will be his greatest performance yet, and he wouldn't dare let down this one lucky audience member. The light engulfed him, swallowing his metallic form like an ocean wave, an inferno of brilliance. And in that moment of glory, as Lorgagore remained standing amidst the fury and rage of the Wanderan's final attack, Lorgagore thought he heard a voice whisper his name, calling to him from a far-away place.

He was right, though; Lorgagore never falls.

His armor remained unharmed. His smile never fading. The despair etched upon the Wanderan's face was truly priceless. This moment alone was worth it all.

The Wanderans were weak, after all, and so it came to this: a final conflict where a sole survivor clashed against him. With a thrust of his finger, he obliterated the survivor, vaporizing them and the massive planetary spacecraft behind them. His grin widened. He laughed a guttural, mechanical laugh, one that reverberated through entire planets and shook the space surrounding them.

"Ahahahahaha. Haha. Ha. Ahhhhh, such fun. A nice, bloody show, as expected from the Wanderans. They truly were worthy to be exterminated by us."

Lorgagore's jagged lips curled in a predatory grin, the cosmic glimmer of his helmet twisting into a grotesque smirk.

Pathetic. They were supposed to be formidable.

His job was complete; his mission was accomplished. Lorgagore turned, his gaze piercing the very void as he peered into space, into the void of stars, his destination—

He had two more garrisons to annihilate before the cycle ended, and he didn't even break a sweat. Yet, something stirred in him—a hunger for something more, something worthy.

But first, there's one more matter he needed to address before heading back, an issue that needs to be addressed:

An anomaly in the space-time continuum. An anomaly that could upset everything.

His gaze shifted slightly, catching sight of a creature in his peripheral vision. It was a grotesque thing—hairy, winged, and blind, a behemoth that whispered in the ancient [Zeozon Tongue]. A wisp of cosmic haze formed with every word, drifting toward Lorgagore, who inhaled it greedily. Instantly, his eyes brightened, a sinister gleam dancing in the darkness of his helm.

"Hmm, she survived after all..." Lorgagore's voice rang as a deep, synthetic rumble. "How... interesting."

A chuckle bubbled from his throat as he clapped his hands together, the clang of metal on metal echoing ominously. "Shall we pay her a visit, my friends?"

The six-armed dragon beside him, massive and coiling in the configuration of an "8", hissed in concern. "But, Sire, what of Master Abeion? He resurrected her. His ire could befall us if—"

Lorgagore snarled, cutting him off. "Abeion? I don't care what that decrepit Sovereign thinks. He must've revived her for sport or spite." His voice caused the beast to reel. "That girl should have been dust, scattered into the void. I'll see to it that she's erased." His words felt heavy, like fate being spoken aloud. "You're all with me, yes?"

"Yes, sire." The legion of monsters echoed in unison, a harmony of bloodlust.

Lorgagore's helmet flared briefly as his thoughts darkened. KiAera, the one who defied the laws of death, would fall by his hand once again. This time, he would consume her very essence. There would be no return.

"She was never supposed to survive. Abeion's done this to mock us. To mock me. She should be dead, erased, forgotten. And I will see to it that she is." His voice dropped to a snarl. "You are all with me, yes?"

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A chorus of monstrous voices roared back. "Yes, sire!"

Lorgagore's helm shimmered, the constellation of stars within it forming a sharp, vicious grin. "Good. We have a Merecritt to hunt."

"Aw, the tin-head still thinks he's in control," a lilting voice called out from behind.

Lorgagore spun, eyes narrowing as an angelic figure emerged from the shadows. DeNultra. The Terrible. His legion recoiled, horror rippling through the ranks.

"By the Abyss! It's DeNultra!" they screamed, their voices shrill with fear.

DeNultra only laughed, a sound as sweet as it was mocking. "So much fear. It’s like I never left." Her amusement was palpable, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Still trying to kill that girl? How quaint. How... pathetic."

Her words stung, cutting Lorgagore like a physical blow. But he remained stoic. Unflinching.

DeNultra smiled as she examined his metal form. "What, not even a word for your Grand Sovereign?"

Lorgagore swallowed his pride. He knew DeNultra was no mere monster. She was a predator—a devourer, a cosmic hunter whose existence defied understanding. Not a god, not even a nightmare, but something far worse, something akin to the eldritch terrors whispered about in half-forgotten myths. Even in her current guise, a beautiful, angelic form, Lorgagore wasn't foolish enough to be deceived.

"Greetings, DeNultra," he said stiffly, inclining his head. "What brings you here?"

DeNultra’s eyes gleamed, a mischievous light dancing within them. "Oh, Lorgagore. So formal. So predictable. I’m here to stop you from making a very... costly mistake."

The metal fiend clenched his jaw, suppressing the fury that boiled within him. "And what mistake would that be?"

DeNultra's grin widened. "The girl. I know you think she's just a human, but there's something more at play, isn't there?" She stepped closer, her hand brushing against his cheekplate. "You're afraid of her."

"I’m not afraid!" Lorgagore snarled, fists tightening. "She’s nothing. Just a human—an insignificant one at that."

"Is she though?" DeNultra's voice dripped with mockery. "She survived when she shouldn't have. Abeion revived her for a reason. He marked her." She tapped her temple. "You can deny it all you want, but you know she's no longer just a mere mortal."

Lorgagore's mechanical form trembled, his rage barely contained. "She will never surpass me. No Merecritt could. I am the greatest of the ΩV! The one who reigns supreme!"

"Is that what you tell yourself?" DeNultra's smirk was infuriating. Her eyes gleamed with a dark secret. "Then I suppose it was all just a coincidence. Your bloodlust and paranoia have blinded you. The truth is in front of you, right under your nose, yet you refuse to see it. So predictable."

DeNultra straightened, brushing a lock of golden hair aside as she tapped her forehead. "She's tied to something far greater than your little power struggle. She's destined for things you can't comprehend.”

A surge of panic shot through him, but he buried it under layers of fury. No one could surpass him—no one.

Lorgagore barked out a harsh laugh. "Preposterous! I will destroy her and prove—"

DeNultra's hand shot up. "Good luck with your hunt. But let me warn you—if you set foot in my domain, it will be your last mistake. But by all means..." She trailed off with a finger wag. "Try."

With a wave, she vanished, leaving Lorgagore seething in her absence.

"She dares meddle in my affairs." His voice trembled. But now, DeNultra had planted a seed of doubt. Abeion's involvement, KiAera's transformation—it all gnawed at his mind. Could she truly rise beyond him?

No. He would crush her first.

"We will hunt her. And I will kill her, no matter what DeNultra thinks. The only one who surpasses me is me!"

"Prepare yourselves!" Lorgagore snarled to his legion. "The hunt begins now!"

The monsters roared in unison, their hunger for the hunt reigniting with newfound fervor. They would hunt this girl, this human-turned-Merecritt, and eradicate her from existence.

But then, just as they were about to charge forth, a deep stillness gripped the battlefield. Time itself seemed to falter, freezing every creature in place, the sudden silence as chilling as the depths of winter. Only Lorgagore's Four Evils—his most elite generals—stood unaffected, immune to the [ΩTemporal End] that had ensnared the others.

Lorgagore gaze snapped to source of this disturbance. His gaze fell upon a lone figure, shrouded in a yellow cloak, standing amidst the frozen legion. The folds of his garb appeared to flicker between reality itself.

"Patience, Lorgagore," the figure said. "Rushing headlong will only hasten your doom."

Lorgagore's eyelids clenched into slits. "Haxtar," he spat. "You dare interrupt me?"

Haxtar smiled under his hood. "I dare because you're headed for ruin. Look." He gestured, and a map of Zeldritzon appeared, shimmering with intricate details of the realms. "Your chances of success? Is not as straightforward as you believe."

Lorgagore glared. He didn't have time for Haxtar's games. His gaze hardened, but curiosity sparked within his mechanical mind and a feral sneer formed. "Speak quickly, Haxtar, before I decide to turn you into scrap."

Haxtar's smile grew. "Then listen well to my counsel..." He pointed to the map, to the swirling masses of energy representing the warring legions of Wanderans and Zeozons. "...or risk a premature defeat at the hands of your prey."

Lorgagore scowled but allowed his attention to be drawn to the map. A string of images flashed across his mind: The human, KiAera, at her lowest point...

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth, a metallic sound, as his focus locked onto a single figure in the image. "What is this?" His voice was sharp and commanding, yet with an edge of uncertainty. "Who is this? He has power unlike anything I've ever seen."

Haxtar's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Indeed. His name is Sorea. Grand Prince of the Wanderans. Do you believe you're mighty enough to challenge him?"

Lorgagore sneered, the flames of rage flickering behind his gaze. "I could destroy him with ease, Haxtar."

The yellow-cloaked entity shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you must face him, either way."

A scowl flickered across Lorgagore's metal features. He didn't have time for this nonsense.

The metallic fiend turned to the six-armed dragon, his closest and most loyal of allies. "Birzoro. Destroy that thing for me, would you? It's becoming... irritating."

The six-armed dragon, a powerful Zeozon beast that served as Lorgagore's wisest warrior and right-hand monster, gave an exaggerated sigh, the sound a rasp of mechanical breath. "And why do I have to do it, hmmm? Why not just go there yourself and—"

"Because..." Lorgagore turned toward Haxtar, a sinister smile playing across his jagged lips. 'He's mine. He's trying to lure me. But I know that fool realizes just what he's trying to do. Beforehand, we'll eradicate this Sorea...' His thoughts reverberated to the dragon in an instant.

"Very well," Birzoro hissed in frustration. "I shall see to it."

Lorgagore gave a curt nod, then turned back to Haxtar. "Bestow me with your so-called counsel. I do not have time for riddles."

"Oh, I will." Haxtar smiled. "Observe, Lorgagore. Your chances of success are slim as things stand. Instead, consider this..."