The day had finally arrived.

Inside the Nexus, the energy was electric. Soldiers moved with hast, their white and gold armor reflecting the soft, flickering lights of the portal room. The air buzzed with an urgency that felt palpable, every step charged with the knowledge that the battle ahead could determine the fate of the Realm. Amidst the flurry of activity, Jermaine and Eli stood to the side, sharing a rare moment of quiet.

Eli leaned against the wall, his usual relaxed posture replaced with one of unease. His eyes were focused on the floor, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t shake. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low.

"Unc… I don’t like this. The Void Rift. The exposure—it could be fatal."

Jermaine leaned back, a teasing grin pulling at his lips as he waved off Eli’s concerns. "Come on, don’t tell me you’re getting all serious on me right now. Where’s that sarcasm you’re known for? You know I’m basically invincible." He gave Eli a playful wink. "This is nothing I can’t handle."

But Eli wasn’t smiling. He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to his uncle, his voice steady but thick with concern. "I mean it, Unc. The Void Rift is unpredictable. We don’t know what it’s fully capable of."

Jermaine’s grin faltered just for a second. He heard the worry in Eli’s voice and saw the weight in his eyes, but still, he couldn’t help but keep the mood light. "Damn. You’re really that worried?" He nudged Eli's shoulder with his elbow, trying to dispel the tension. "What have I always told you—I’ll always be here to watch your back. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, it’d be pretty embarrassing if some Void Rift managed to take me out. Can you imagine what that’d do to my reputation?"

Eli stayed silent, his brow furrowed. The usual banter wasn’t enough to shake the feeling gnawing at him. He wanted to believe Jermaine would be fine—he had to be fine—but the threat of the Void Rift, the unpredictable nature of what they were walking into, loomed too large.

Jermaine saw the seriousness in Eli’s eyes and sighed, his teasing dropping away. His tone softened, becoming more sincere. "Alright, alright. I see you’re really serious about this. But look, nephew, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not about to kick the bucket anytime soon. You know me—I’ve made it through worse." He gave Eli a pointed look. "Besides, you’ve got bigger things to focus on. Like, you know, saving the whole damn Realm with that brain of yours."

Eli blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. "What?"

Jermaine’s grin returned, though this time, it wasn’t teasing. It was proud. "You heard me. You’ve got the kind of mind that can change everything. You’re the one who’s going to save this Realm, Eli." He paused, his eyes glazing over with a faint sadness. "That lab accident—it wasn’t your fault, no matter how much you think it was. Sure, we both lost people that day, but I’ve never seen you happier than when you were in that lab, doing what you loved." Jermaine’s voice softened, his pride evident. "You’ve got a gift. Don’t waste it."

For a moment, Eli was silent as his uncle's words settled in. Though Jermaine was prone to show small acts of compassion, this felt different. Eli swallowed hard, the knot of emotion in his throat making it difficult to speak.

"Unc…"

Jermaine put on a mock serious expression. "Look, if I don’t make it back—though we both know I will—you can just figure out a way to bring me back. You’ve got that genius mind, right? Reanimate me or something. And when you do, I’ll come back even better looking than I was before."

Eli finally cracked a small smile, shaking his head. "You’re an idiot."

Jermaine laughed, clapping a hand on Eli’s shoulder. "What? That’s the thanks I get? I’m hilarious." He winked, his voice dipping back into that familiar, playful tone. "Now come on, lighten up. We’ve got a job to do, and I’m not about to let some Void Rift ruin the fun."

Despite himself, Eli smiled—a real smile this time. The unease in his chest hadn’t disappeared, but Jermaine’s unshakable confidence, his absolute belief that everything would be alright, had a way of calming him.

"Just… be careful, okay?" Eli said, his almost pleading.

Jermaine’s smirk softened into something more genuine. He pulled Eli into a brief hug, clapping him on the back. "Always, kid. You too."

As they pulled apart, the noise of the Nexus swelled around them again, the weight of the mission ahead pressing down on both of them. Eli watched as Jermaine turned and joined the others, his figure disappearing into the crowd of soldiers preparing for battle. The gnawing worry in Eli’s chest remained, but at least for now, he held onto the belief that his uncle would make it back. Jermaine had always been there for him, always strong, always invincible.

I will always be here to watch your back. I'm not going anywhere. Jermaine's words echoed in his mind. It was a promise, Jermaine never broke his promises.

----------------------------------------

With less than half an hour before the mission, Leon entered the dimly lit infirmary, the makeshift Knull Suit draped over his arm. The helmet was wedged securely between his side and elbow as he approached Kamari, who lay on the cot, his eyes distant but sharper than they had been in days.

Leon placed the suit on a nearby chair and stepped closer, his gaze searching Kamari’s face. "How’re you feeling?"

Kamari sighed, running a hand through his crimson-tipped hair as he gathered his thoughts. "I get why Byron doesn’t want me to go," he said, the frustration in his voice tempered by a newfound sense of clarity. "I know how dangerous this mission is, especially without the Phoenix Core. But..." He hesitated as if weighing his next words carefully. "I wanted to prove myself. To reclaim the Phoenix Core on my own terms. For so long, I’ve been stuck in the past—haunted by my failures, by what I couldn’t save. But I’ve realized... those failures don’t define me. " His voice softened, a quiet smile forming on his lips. "I’m not giving up. I don't plan on ever giving up. I just wanted to show everyone that I can still make a difference. Even without the Phoenix Core. But if staying behind is what's best, then I’ll do that."

Leon’s expression shifted. He could see it—something was different in Kamari. The self-doubt that once weighed him down seemed to have lifted.

"Kamari," Leon said, stepping closer, "you’ve come a long way. You're not tearing yourself apart, not drowning in guilt anymore. That shows strength—real strength."

Leon was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. Then, almost as if making a decision in that very instant, he turned fully to face Kamari, his voice lowering to something more personal, more intimate. "You know… back when I was in the VeyrScion, there were times when I almost gave up. It was tough—brutal even. I had to learn to trust my instincts—trust that I had what it took to push through." His eyes softened, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "And the first day I met you, Kamari, my instincts told me you were special. I didn’t know why back then, but I knew it. And ever since, I’ve watched you grow. It’s been an honor to see you fight— to watch you get stronger. I’ve always believed you’re meant for more." Leon took a step forward, his voice steady. "And right now, my instincts are telling me that you’re the one who needs to be out there."

Kamari’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you mean... No, I can’t take your place. You were chosen for this mission—"

Leon’s smile deepened, cutting him off gently. "Maybe I was. But this isn’t about who was chosen. It’s about who needs to be there. I’ve seen you struggle, and I’ve seen you overcome. You’ve got something in you that’s stronger than any Titan Core, stronger than you give yourself credit for. You need to be out there, Kamari. This is your moment."

Kamari stared at him. "Are you sure? What if something goes wrong? What if I—"

"I trust you. We all do. You’ve already proven yourself in ways that matter. It’s time for you to believe that. Let me give you this chance."

Kamari was speechless, his chest tightening as he reached out and took Leon's helmet. He held it in his hands, the cool metal pressing into his palms, heavy with responsibility—with trust.

"Thank you," Kamari whispered. "I won’t let you down."

Leon took a step back, a smile of pride lighting up his face as he watched Kamari start to suit up in the Knull Suit. Kamari’s movements were slow and deliberate, as if every piece of the suit he secured was a step toward the future he was finally ready to embrace.

"I know you won’t," Leon said. "Now, go... and make us proud."

Kamari nodded. This was his chance—not just to fight but to prove to himself that he was more than the losses he’d endured, more than the power he once held. As the final piece of the suit locked into place, Kamari felt the weight of expectation on his shoulders, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like a call to action.

With one final glance at Leon, Kamari turned and made his way out of the infirmary, the suit humming with power as he stepped into the light. His path was clear now, and nothing was going to stop him.

----------------------------------------

Stormfront stood at the heart of the Nexus, their sleek, black Knull suits glinting under the dim, ethereal glow of the portal gates. The air was thick with the rhythmic march of Seraphim soldiers echoing through the chamber like a heartbeat. Blue and white energies swirled within the portals like restless cyclones, beckoning the brave to step through—to face the unknown that awaited them on the other side. Fear lingered in the wide eyes and tight lips of the soldiers passing by, but still, none faltered. They marched forward—not because they wanted to, but because they had to.

In the center of it all, Jermaine stood like a beacon, his arms outstretched with arcs of blue lightning crackling between his fingertips. The sharp, steady pulse of his power punctuated the tension as he focused on preparing to teleport everyone. On his left, Nia stood poised and ready. On his right, Byron remained calm and collected. Beside Byron, Malik maintained his stoic demeanor, his expression unreadable.

And then, Kamari entered.

His steps were slow and measured, his posture deliberate as if every movement needed to be precise. The dark visor of his helmet shielded his face, masking the anxiety flickering in his eyes, but his heart raced beneath the suit. As he approached, Kamari took his place between Nia and Malik, carefully mimicking Leon’s confident stride. His hands reached for theirs, his movements cautious, deliberate. He held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t notice the trembling in his fingers.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Jermaine’s sharp eyes flicked to Nia, who gave the subtlest nod of acknowledgment. She’d noticed. Of course, she had. Malik’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, his silent approval unspoken but clear. Byron, however, was less forgiving. His gaze locked onto Kamari’s helmet, heavy and unrelenting as if his eyes could pierce through the visor and see the truth beneath. Kamari felt the weight of it, like a hand pressing against his chest. But Byron said nothing.

"Alright, folks," Jermaine called out. His eyes glowed with pale blue energy as the crackling lightning intensified around him. "Hold on tight."

The air around them began to hum with power as Jermaine grinned, his lightning rippling out in fierce waves. Energy curled around the group like tendrils of light, their forms flickering as they were enveloped in a soft, white glow that grew brighter with each passing second. The room buzzed with anticipation, and soldiers nearby halted in their tracks, their gazes drawn to the spectacle unfolding before them. Their fear was momentarily forgotten, replaced with awe as they witnessed the legendary Stormfront in action.

Kamari’s heart pounded in his chest as the lightning surged through him, the energy vibrating against his ski, and for a fleeting moment, as the world shimmered around him, he felt something else—something new. Not fear, but a sense of belonging. For the first time since he’d lost the Phoenix Core, he didn’t feel like an outsider.

With a brilliant flash of light, Stormfront vanished.

In that instant, the soldiers’ fear melted away, replaced by a single, unshakable truth. They weren’t just marching into battle—they were following legends. Fear had given way to something far more powerful: purpose.

----------------------------------------

The group materialized on the desolate northern shore of Seliak, their boots sinking slightly into the cold, barren ground. An expanse of gray stretched endlessly before them, devoid of life or color, with jagged rocks and dust swirling faintly in the bitter wind. The air felt wrong—thick and oppressive, as if even the atmosphere had succumbed to the wasteland's deathly stillness. A low hum filled the silence, the distant sound of reality unraveling as the sky cracked open like shattered glass. Lightning split through the dark clouds, illuminating the widening Void Rift in the distance—a tear in the very fabric of the world.

Jermaine’s gaze lingered on the ominous sight, but then he turned to Nia. Beneath their dark visors, words weren’t necessary. Jermaine raised two fingers to his helmet, then reached out and gently touched them to hers. The simple gesture was loaded with meaning—a silent exchange of love. Nia responded by leaning into the touch ever so slightly, letting the brief moment tether them together before the storm.

No words passed between them, but the connection was unmistakable.

With a low, pulsing hum, Jermaine’s body began to lift off the ground. Faint arcs of blue lightning crackled around him, and with a final glance at Nia, he shot upward, becoming a blur of energy against the fractured sky. Nia watched as his form grew smaller, swallowed by the swirling clouds and distant flashes of light. She allowed the moment to linger, feeling the weight of it settle over her heart before drawing in a steadying breath.

It was time to focus.

Byron tapped the device on his arm, and a holographic map flickered to life, casting a faint blue glow against the dull, ash-covered landscape. Though the map was incomplete and rough, it displayed what they needed—Zaire’s hideout. It was nearby, hidden somewhere in the craggy hills, a fortress concealed by Knull Energy. The terrain around them stretched out like the bones of a long-dead beast, barren and bleak, promising a grueling journey.

Byron’s voice crackled over the crystal comms. “Alright. Let’s get moving. Stay sharp.”

The group fell into formation, their black Knull suits blending with the darkened landscape. Nia moved quietly beside Byron, while Malik trailed just behind, his footsteps barely making a sound. Kamari, hidden beneath his helmet, walked alongside them, his blue flames dormant but ready. Every step felt heavier, the pressure in the air growing thicker as they neared the unknown.

In the distance, the Rift continued to tear apart the sky, its jagged edges gnawing on the fabric of reality, a reminder of the danger that awaited them. But they moved forward, resolute. This was their moment, their chance to end Zaire's reign once and for all.

There was no turning back.

----------------------------------------

After a grueling trek across the desolate wastelands of Seliak, the group finally approached their destination. The sky remained an endless, oppressive gray, while the cracked and barren ground beneath them seemed to stretch on forever. Byron kept a sharp eye on their suit vitals, watching every fluctuation.

When they arrived, what greeted them wasn’t what any of them had expected. There were no guards, no visible defenses—just an unsettling stillness that seemed to cling to the air like a forgotten memory. The hideout stood before them, stark and foreboding, its structure a mix of ancient stone and jagged metal, but it was the barrier surrounding it that immediately drew their attention. The translucent dome shimmered faintly, pulsating with a strange energy that cast eerie reflections in the dim light of the wasteland.

Byron approached the barrier cautiously, extending a hand toward its surface. His fingers passed through without resistance, causing the barrier to ripple like disturbed water before settling back into its shimmering stillness. He withdrew his hand and glanced back at the others, offering a silent nod—it was safe to proceed.

One by one, they moved through the barrier, stepping into the strange bubble of energy. Inside, the air felt different—cleaner, lighter—completely untouched by the Knull energy that plagued the rest of Seliak. It was a small haven amidst a dying world. Their suit systems confirmed it, the readings showing that the atmosphere here was oddly stable.

Byron unclasped his helmet first, letting the cool, clean air hit his face. The others followed suit, pulling off their helmets, and taking in the strange, almost serene environment. All except for Kamari. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the clasp.

Byron noticed immediately, his gaze settling on Kamari. “You can take your helmet off, Kamari."

Kamari stiffened, caught off guard by the remark. He reluctantly unclasped his helmet and lifted it off, his eyes quickly darting away from Byron’s, unsure of how to meet his gaze.

“You knew?” Kamari asked, his voice quieter than he intended, a hint of guilt in his tone.

To Kamari’s surprise, Byron didn’t reprimand him. There was no anger, no frustration—only something softer, more understanding.

“Of course I knew,” Byron admitted, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t get anything past me. Plus, Leon is almost twice your size.”

Kamari blinked, unsure how to respond. The tightness in his chest eased just a little, but uncertainty still lingered.

Byron took a step closer, his voice gentler now. “I know I’ve been overprotective,” he began, his tone softer, more personal than Kamari had ever heard from him. “But that’s because I made a promise to your father—to protect you, to keep the A’taro Clan’s legacy alive. And in trying to fulfill that promise, I’ve come to realize... I’ve been holding you back.”

Kamari’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze finally meeting Byron’s. There was no lecture here, no stern warning—just honesty.

“I’ve seen you grow, Kamari,” Byron continued. “Every day, I see more of your father in you. His stubbornness, his resilience, his strength… they’re all in you.” Byron’s smile widened, pride clear in his expression. “It’s time I let you spread your wings. You’re not a kid anymore—you’re ready to become the man you were always meant to be.”

For a moment, Kamari didn’t know what to say. The words hit him harder than any battle ever could. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but in that silence, something shifted—an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Byron reached out, ruffling Kamari’s hair in a way that was both affectionate and familiar like a father trying to break the tension of a heavy moment. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like the culmination of everything unsaid between them.

Malik, ever the quiet one, stepped forward with a slight grin and offered Kamari a fist bump. Kamari returned it, a small smile forming on his lips.

Nia gave Byron a knowing smile—a silent acknowledgment that he had made the right call. Byron returned the smile with a nod.

But before any of them could savor the moment, an ear-splitting alarm erupted from deep within the hideout, its shrill sound tearing through the calm like a blade.

Kamari’s heart skipped a beat. “That can’t be good."

----------------------------------------

Inside the dimly lit chambers of the hideout, Zion and Zaire moved with haste. The soft, rhythmic hum of ancient machinery echoed through the lair, pulsing with the energy of the millions of souls contained in the translucent vats that lined the walls. Their power coursed through intricate channels, all converging toward the massive portal gate that dominated the far side of the room. Zion stood hunched over the central console, his face bathed in the eerie green glow of runes that flickered under his touch. Every movement was deliberate, each rune he activated inching them closer to their goal.

The air was thick, the weight of a century of planning finally coming to fruition. Then, a sharp, piercing beep shattered the stillness. The system’s mechanical voice echoed through the chamber.

“Intruders detected on the northern perimeter.”

Zaire’s head snapped up, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and anticipation. His hand clenched into a fist as he turned toward his father.

"They're here."

Zion, however, didn’t look up. His focus remained on the console, his fingers still gliding over the ancient runes as if the interruption were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Handle it. I’m too close. The gate will be activated soon. I cannot be interrupted now."

Zaire gave a curt nod, the shadows in the room seeming to twist and writhe in response. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the chamber, his boots clanging against the cold stone floor, each step echoing like a death knell.

Outside, the barren landscape of Seliak stretched out before him, a desolate wasteland of ash and cracked earth. But the stillness would not last long. Zaire raised his hand, and with a single, sharp motion, he summoned them—the Infernals. From the blackened ground, they emerged, clawing their way to the surface in a maelstrom of shadows and darkness. Their grotesque forms took shape—twisted, monstrous creatures, eyes glowing with a hunger that could never be satisfied. Their roars split the air, a deafening chorus that shook the very ground beneath them.

Zaire stood at the center of the horde, his dark energy swirling around him like a malevolent storm. His gaze locked onto Stormfront in the distance, his eyes narrowing as Kamari’s figure emerged from the group.

"You’ve done well to get this far, Young Phoenix," Zaire said, his voice carrying over the howling winds. "But it’s too late. You can’t stop us. This is where you make your final stand."

"Us?" Kamari asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared down Zaire.

Meanwhile, back inside the hideout, Zion’s eyes gleamed with triumph as the console’s screen flashed the words Activation Completed in bold, glowing letters. He paused for a brief moment, his breath catching as the realization hit him. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the portal gate.

The massive stone structure trembled as its runes illuminated one by one, each glowing with a sinister dark purple. The gate itself began to pulse, swirling with the chaotic energy of the Nether Flame—its power fueled by the Phoenix Core embedded deep within the Dakr. The energy gathered, coiling like a storm ready to be unleashed, until the portal roared to life with a sound reminiscent of tearing fabric—streaks of black and violet spiraling within the frame of the portal.

Zion watched in awe, his lips curling into a slow, victorious smile. "Finally," he whispered. "We’ve done it. The gateway to the Vordiyr... is open."

The energy from the portal bathed the room in a sickening light, its pull growing stronger with each passing second. Zion’s eyes flickered with the dark power of the Nether Flame as he turned toward the swirling vortex, feeling its raw, unstoppable force.

From deep within the portal, something stirred.

----------------------------------------

Jermaine hovered before the massive Void Rift, its violent energy crackling and tearing the sky apart. White cracks branched from its edges as it pulsed like a wound, while the air howled desperately as if existence itself were unraveling.

For a moment, he stared into the white abyss of its core. “You’re not ripping this world apart. Not on my watch.”

With a steady breath, lightning erupted from his body, slowly transforming into light blue tendrils of pure Source Energy. These tendrils pulsed and swirled around him like ethereal limbs, humming with immense power. They shot outward, latching onto the jagged edges of the Rift. As they connected, the ground trembled. The Rift resisted, its energy thrashing violently against Jermaine’s grip. Bolts of Knull Energy lashed out, attempting to sever the tendrils, but Jermaine held firm, his body crackling with power as he anchored himself to the Rift. He clenched his jaw—the effort was monumental—but he didn’t flinch. The tendrils tightened, wrapping around the tear and refusing to let it spread any further.

Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles strained, but Jermaine channeled more Source Energy, his eyes blazing with electric blue light. The air vibrated with the clash of energies—his, steady and controlled, against the Rift’s wild chaos.

The tear struggled fiercely, thrashing like a beast trapped in a cage. Its edges crackled, straining to grow larger. An energy storm swirled around Jermaine, with dust and debris whipping through the air as the ground beneath him trembled under the pressure.

“Come on!” Jermaine growled through gritted teeth. His energy flared, the tendrils glowing brighter as they squeezed tighter, refusing to give an inch.

The sky darkened further, and thunder rumbled ominously overhead. Bit by bit, the tear began to close. Jermaine's breathing grew heavy, each exhale sharp, but his focus never wavered. He could feel the Rift weakening, its chaotic pull faltering as his power pushed back harder.

He could see the end now: the Rift, once indomitable, was closing—slower than he wanted, but it was closing. His body ached, but he wasn’t about to stop, not when the survival of the Realm hung in the balance.