Ibere, the planet of the Titan Blade, slipped out of the pathway like a colossal structure of the galaxy. Its presence brought the much-needed power and stability of order that was essential in Moyo's bleak existence. It had phased through the now-fused shards of reality Moyo had brought together, swallowing them whole as it grew impossibly larger than it had ever been. Meanwhile, Apophis, in his cosmic serpent form, faced down the six supreme beings of the Archailect.
It was an impossible battle, even for Moyo, despite his ascension to the highest heights of power. His opponent was the avatar of chaos, whose pale form had been restored, skin riddled with veins of black, oily chaos power that coalesced in his hands, forming a sinister, oily blade.
The two powers stood, locked in a deadly stare as Moyo addressed his Shieldborne and friends. “Your battles lie within Ibere,” he commanded, “go, my battle is here, they will need you below.” Idris hesitated for a moment before nodding, with Josh leading the Shieldborne and the two Transcendents, who paused to look back at him.
“You’ve come a long way, Supreme Champion and Avatar of the Archailect,” Lotes said. Moyo glanced at her, his eyes burning with a kaleidoscope of power. “I won’t let you down,” he promised. Lucirion snorted, a pained look in his eyes. “No,” he replied, “It is us who have let you down. Fight well, my Supreme Being,” he finished as the Lord of the Jades became a beam of harsh light, heading towards Ibere.
Eses smiled at him, transforming into her draconic form once more, bowing her head in deference before heading for Ibere, its luminous golden and purple form a beacon in the darkness. Moyo gripped Oro tighter, one hand manifesting one of the arcane guns crafted for him by Liakya, as Azael stood still, staring at him.
Pitiless, inky black eyes bore into Moyo, lost in memories unleashed within whatever remained of the avatar’s mind. When Azael spoke, his voice sounded like a dozen tortured souls bound together in agonizing unison. “In the end, it is left to you and I,” Azael began, “two once mortals now at the cusp of becoming more, the lives of our would-be Supremes in our grasps.” He chuckled faintly, the sound resonating across the space between them.
Moyo said nothing, his transcendent sight peering through the different folds of reality, ever vigilant for any sneaky attack Azael might unleash. He hoped for a flicker of honour within the being before him, but that hope faded as quickly as it came.
No one who sold their very existence to chaos could remain honourable, even in the perverse form Moyo had expected. Azael nodded sombrely, too tired to waste words on an unresponsive foe. “A warrior through and through, no waste of words,” he said, as he moved.
Moyo unloaded everything within the gun, watching as reality and its myriad folds lit up with the raw power the weapon released. Arcane shot punched through reality to slam into Azael with all the force of a transcendent’s blow and more.
- Arcane Shot (Passive): Both guns channel raw arcane runic energy into each bullet, causing them to explode upon impact and dealing massive damage to creatures of chaos.
The power staggered the form of the avatar of chaos as he grunted, his black oily blade already swinging down on Moyo. It carried with it the pure undiluted power of chaos, the corrosive, corrupting influence of the antithesis of life that sought to quench one of the last obstacles in its path to cosmic dominance.
Moyo’s blade clashed with it, Oro burning with a myriad of colours, a reflection of what Moyo had become. Their attack ripped reality around them, straining it as Moyo clamped down on his surrounding space with his Ashe.
It was a cosmic battle of both authority and power, both figures at the pinnacle of their existence as they fought under the near-infinite shadows of the powers they represented. Azael was pushed back, the strength of the first planet coursing through Moyo’s being weighing in as he spoke. “Crush,” he commanded.
Space bent itself around the avatar of chaos, attempting to squeeze him as Azael laughed loudly. “Futile!” he shouted, a mix of authority and mockery, as he loosened the authority of the titan, his blade swinging again. “We have surpassed the boundaries of such useless authorities; our very beings are authorities given form. You have yet to learn!” he cried. Moyo gave no response.
The arcane gun spoke again, this time a burst of power at the skull of Azael. The chaos mantle managed to take the brunt of it in that half of a moment, lighting up the space around them like a miniature sun. Moyo paid it no mind; his transcendent insight had expected it. Azael was too skilled a swordsman to fall to such a simple attack, and yet Moyo pushed on.
His mantle fended off the corrosive attacks of the avatar even as something impossibly large tore itself out of the body of chaos behind the avatar. A liquid mass of tentacles roared into the silence of reality around them, heading for Ibere. Moyo assessed it in a second, allowing his mantle to take the brunt of a strike Azael attempted to sneak on him at that moment.
The monstrous entity carried a heavy amount of the authority of chaos itself. Its impossibly large head, ever-shifting in shape, was filled with roars of oily black teeth. It gathered raw chaos in its mouth, preparing to fire at Ibere when the Defiance, in all its splendid glory, appeared in its path, the attack splashing across its form and doing no harm.
Azael laughed with glee, “Good! Let this not end so quickly!” he said as Tunde cracked a punch across the face of the avatar, sending him far into the distance and closer to his wall of chaos. Moyo glanced back at the Defiance and Ibere, sending one last thought message to the planet and a person before heading towards Azael, the clashing of the supreme beings above them flashing in and out of reality.
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The moment they landed on Ibere, Lucirion found himself surrounded by the largest land battle he had ever seen in his countless centuries of existence. It burned all around him like a sea of souls, countless ascenders of the Archailect—or rather, all that was left of the Archailect—doing battle against the hordes of chaos that refused to be extinguished.
Even with the raw authority of the Titan Blade within the planet, now as much a temple as a battleground, the chaos forces multiplied through the shards the planet had swallowed. It was akin to a virus too quick and powerful to be eradicated all at once. Eses wasted no time, her draconic form rising to the skies as she spoke, “Lucirion!” Her draconic voice thundered, snapping his gaze away from the primordials, ancients, and rulers dotting the landscapes below.
The planet had grown to an impossible size, raw aether of the highest quality flowing through the air, permeating the beings fighting to defend this last bastion of existence. Space and distance meant nothing within the planet as Lucirion’s runic eyes sought to unravel how Moyo had accomplished it.
An entire continent, if he could even call it that, was as large if not larger than a planet of the primordials themselves. The large crystalline mountains and seas could house an entire planet’s worth of existence. It was mind-boggling, but it brought a smile to Lucirion’s face as he clapped his hands together, a thunderous echo shooting through the skies, drawing attention to them.
Across the skies, large rune circles broke out, summoned by the Jade Lord himself. They burned with raw aura and aether, a testament to the power of the Rune King about to be unleashed. “Your time, Mother Dragon,” Lucirion said as Eses’s voice echoed through the runes.
“Children of the Archailect, one and all!” she thundered. “We stand at the final battle. Many, countless, have fallen to give us this chance, and even the Supreme Beings themselves have marched to war!”
Her eyes blazed with fury and rage, righteous yet eager to begin. “The Titan himself holds back the Avatar of Chaos, sheltering us in his homeworld,” she continued.
Below, the forces of chaos beat themselves ineffectively against a barrier of runes Lucirion had put up. His core swallowed mouthfuls of the aether in the air, replenishing it far faster than he could use it, making him wonder if all other ascenders below could experience it as well.
“We are left with our lives, our very existences, and a choice: we either perish, extinguishing all life in the cosmos, or we stand with the Supreme Beings. We stand with the Titan Blade, the Supreme and Champion of the Archailect, or we perish,” she said. “I will have your reply here and now!”
“The Titan Blade!” came the thunderous reply from untold hundreds of millions below.
“We will cut them down, tear them from whatever anchor holds them to this planet. We will burn their taint from reality and drive them—no, erase them—from existence!” she screamed, her body beginning to glow a golden light.
Lucirion felt eagerness burn through his body as he whispered to his runes around the planet, watching them burn brighter. “We will herald in a new reality and usher in a new existence. We are the last wall, the true last wall, and we will hold this world, for the Titan!” she finished.
“FINAL JUDGMENT!” Lucirion thundered as Eses unleashed her celestial power in crackling bolts of raw energy, pouring it through the runes.
Bolts of lightning, tinged with bright gold and blue, appeared over every position across the impossibly wide planet, tearing down wherever the forces of chaos fought with those of the Archailect. An impossibly cataclysmic storm of lightning shattered the landscapes, obliterating the forces of chaos in their entirety, leaving smoking craters deep enough to hold the largest ships of the Archailect.
The storm raged for minutes, a cacophony of sound and screams that lit up the planet like a simultaneous rain of thunderstorms and lightning before abating, clearing the landscapes. The forces of the Archailect stared in awe before a loud roar tore through their ranks, loud enough to ring across the planet.
From all over, large figures surged towards the position of the Transcendents. The primordials and their closest retinues made their way as Eses transformed back to her human form. “That was not the end,” Kairos said, the King of Monsters still armoured in his living weapons that writhed around his form.
Lucirion stared distastefully at the helm of the king, the baleful creature that made up the helmet staring back at him. “We must destroy those shards here and now!” hissed Rieus as Lucirion eyed the primordial, considering obliterating him from existence.
“Who gave you any right to speak? Or have you forgotten whose home you stand on?” the Rune King demanded, Rieus blinking in shock, unsure where the aggression came from. “Peace, Rune King, we stand united… for now,” Varis said, nodding at Lucirion, who deferred to the ancient primordial.
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“We do not have time; more will come as long as Azael and his master live,” Eses said, ignoring the squabbles around her. “You called the Titan Blade a Supreme and Champion of the Archailect. What does that mean?” Ardos, the Primordial Thunderer, asked in confusion.
“Exactly what it means, Ardos: that Moyo has ascended past the rank of Transcendent and is equal with the Supreme Beings,” Eses replied. “I won’t bother asking how,” Altair, the youngest of the primordials, spoke.
“Neither do we have the time, venerable primordials,” a voice came from below them as Eses’s eyes glanced at the figure in purple and golden armour. “You are the Champion of the Titan Blade, are you not?” the First Dragon asked.
Idris, Titan Fist and Champion of the Titan nodded. “Indeed, and I have been asked to invite you to the abode of the Titan. Much is to be discussed,” he said with a bow.
“On whose authority?” Tiamat asked. Despite their situation, they were still primordials and one of the powers of the Archailect. “By his authority,” Idris simply replied.
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The continent-sized castle and home of the Titan Blade sprawled across the landscape as far as the eyes could see. The forces of the Archailect, an almost endless sea of beings, made their way towards it. The pinnacle of the planet pulsed with the raw authority of the Titan, lit up like a beacon, sending a barrier of pure aether and authority to protect its surroundings. The forces of chaos might have stepped foot on the planet, but nothing that wasn’t of the Archailect could enter the boundaries of the castle.
Its gold and purple crystal walls extended as far as the eye could see, manned by ruler-ranked mechanical creatures and thousands of diamonds led by masters of various clans under the Titan Blade. The castle itself spoke of the insane wealth at the Titan's disposal, constructed of raw Aserite and gold, inlaid with precious gems and equipped with every destructive weapon available to the house.
It was as much a fortress of beauty as it was of destruction. Lucirion had the disturbing thought that, had it not been for the cosmic apocalypse, virtually no force in the Archailect alone could stand against the power the Titan had been building within his domain—a domain that was now the last one standing in the entire cosmos.
The golden giant doors of the castle opened, large enough to let a ship pass through with space to spare, as the forces of the primordials entered its broad halls. Tiamat, at the side of her husband, cooed in appreciation. “Ashira chose well, it seems,” she said, as Kairos sighed. “She married him for love,” he said. “That and his crystal-hard physique and boundless wealth,” she replied, as Wukong chuckled.
The Great Sage walked as if he were home, the forces of the Titan—masters and diamond-ranked, with nothing below those ranks in sight—surrounding him. Lucirion scanned the palace, realizing with shock that none of its inhabitants was below the rank of a diamond.
“You’ve noticed as well,” Kairos whispered next to him. “How?” Lucirion whispered back. “War breeds powerful forces,” the King of Monsters answered, his gaze stern. The Champion of the Titan led them toward another large door that opened into a vast room lined with thousands of rows of chairs.
It looked more like an amphitheatre than a meeting room, sloping down to reveal a large circular platform with the crest of Clan Titan Blade emblazoned on it. It housed two golden chairs, one occupied by a female figure holding a green and gold blade. Ashira Kairos, once heir to the primordial planet Tartarus and all the holdings of Kairos, now queen and de facto leader of the only domain left in reality, stared with green and purple eyes at the approaching figures with cold indifference.
Lucirion took in her composure, her gaze, and the calmness in her form, feeling pride burst within his chest even as he kept a blank look. He glanced at Kairos, who radiated pride. Beside her stood the Shieldborne, protecting the one closest to their master’s heart in his absence, regarding the transcendents and primordials with suspicious looks that on a normal day would have seen them obliterated where they stood.
“Welcome, transcendents and primordials of the Archailect,” she said, rising to her feet. Lucirion noted the figures seated in the rows above her, each dressed in the colours of the factions of the Titan Blade’s house, the renowned clans of House Titan Blade.
The Stormcallers, led by Annika the Storm Seeker herself and rumoured first love of the Titan, sat on a crystal throne of lightning, legs crossed, with a man in a dark coat and blue-rimmed glasses at her side. Their banner flapped behind them, and a curious spear resting on her shoulder caught Lucirion's attention, leaving him pondering its origins.
The Hammers of Ogun, led by the Forgelord Boyle, one of the greatest forge smiths of the Archailect, sat upon his crystal grey throne, an imposing woman at his side with a large war hammer strapped to her back, arms folded.
The Dawn Archers in their red robes, led by the one known as the Crimson Eyes, sat on her red crystal throne, legs crossed with a large one-eyed man at her side, her clan arrayed behind her as well.
The Sentinels, the well-known clan of the Titan’s house that had gone through two clan heads who had risen to the ranks of the Titan’s Champion and head of his Shieldborne respectively, took the next row. Now led by an unknown female figure who exuded raw strength at ruler rank, her grey and white hair braided down her back, she stared at them with intensity.
Come to think of it, the leaders of the clans were all ruler-ranked, and their subordinates who stood next to them were master rankers in turn. The Titan’s clans had enough power to be houses on their own, and yet they fused to become an unrivalled power. Lucirion’s eyes drifted to the last row where a banner hung, and a single ascender stood.
Masked and garbed in brown robes, the figure whose shielded aura Lucirion identified as a ruler stood with no visible clan in sight, the thousands of seats empty save for him. The fabled Hands of Anansi, who had once held the regent of the Titan Blade, the famous Martha Web Weaver, as their clan head, were as secretive as they were deadly. Lucirion glanced across the room, spotting hidden figures at odd angles, watching in absolute silence. The spiders had spun their webs around the room, watching for any signs of ill will against their forces.
Lucirion nodded in respect at the masked figure, who bowed in appreciation. Eses stopped in front of Ashira, her luminous golden eyes staring at her as she spoke. “We were asked here on the word of the Titan, and yet he fights beyond the boundaries of the planet. How is this so?” she asked lightly.
Lucirion saw Annika sit up, her thunderous gaze piercing the proceedings below, causing a shift in the composure of the Titan’s forces. Lucirion found himself irritated. What was this show of power? What use was it right here and now?
If Ashira sensed it, she gave no response, merely nodding as she spoke. “Indeed,” she responded, watching the thousands of rows slowly fill with the masters, rulers, and ancients of the Archailect.
Seven golden thrones shimmered into being behind the primordials, one for each as they took their seats. For the transcendents, two crystal thrones appeared, Lucirion and Eses taking their seats as Ashira turned to the empty throne of the Titan Blade where aether began to coalesce.
The room sucked in a collective breath, the raw authority gathering unlike anything they had ever felt. The very aether in the room trembled visibly, summoned by a being. The being who manifested on the chair, still a bright light with no visible features except for a human outline, got to his feet.
Idris stepped forward; arms folded behind him as he spoke with a loud voice. “Rankers, primordials, and transcendents,” he started. “I present to you, the head of House Titan Blade and Champion of the Archailect, the Titan Blade,” he shouted.
All over the room, ascenders bowed as Moyo appeared. His eyes glowed with all manner of colours, a sad smile on his face. His gaze swept the room, taking in the sights before focusing on Eses. “Transcendent,” he said with a slight bow, Eses smiling.
“How fares the battle?” she asked. “That’s my disciple!” Ajax’s loud, boisterous voice came from amidst the seated numbers. Moyo laughed as he glanced at his former master, Killian seated at his side hiding his face in embarrassment. “I hold, and I will prevail,” he replied as a roar broke out in the room.
He raised a hand, quieting them as he spoke. “I asked that you all gather here because of what is about to happen,” he said. “The forces of chaos through the shards of realities,” Kairos guessed, Moyo nodding.
“Indeed,” he replied, “but I fear something worse, something stronger,” he said ominously. “Right now, the Defiance has stopped the descent of some being from chaos itself, sent by Azael, but my ship can only do so much,” Moyo said.
“It has sent fragments of itself down to the planet, chaos aspects given sentience to control the forces of chaos already pouring out of the combined shards as I speak to you.”
“What do they seek, apart from our complete annihilation?” Altair asked.
“Death, the death of Ibere and what it stands for,” Moyo replied.
**********************************
Across the different landscapes of the planet, the shards of reality attached to it began to pulse with chaos aspect, tainting the air with their corrosive nature. Yet, the planet fought back with all its might, the very creatures of the planet moving to face the beings who stepped out of the shimmering shards that hung like black crystals in the air.
These beings were humanoid, with no features except for smooth black faces. From the crystals shot out flying abominations that screeched through the air, circling the shards as comets of black chaos aspect crashed into the crystals. They absorbed these impacts, reforming them into more humanoid beings scattered across the planet.
These unknown entities first turned their gazes to the skies, seeing beyond the planet, past the Defiance that battled against their progenitor, and toward their avatar of chaos, who commanded them. A powerful presence surged through the locations of the shards now given form, propelling them across the endless plains, all heading in one direction.
Ordinarily, it should have taken them months, if not years, to reach their destination, but Ibere helped its children, folding space around them. They reached the towering golden spires of the Titan’s palace in no time.
The creatures of chaos opened their mouths in unison, a deathly wail echoing out, filling the air with a screech and sending waves across the landscape. It was a form of communication—an unholy, abysmal sound that tore more pathways open around them, more creatures of chaos pouring out by the thousands.
They all aligned themselves behind these towering figures of chaos and power, each resilient enough to withstand the continuous assault of Ibere on their existence. They began to move, each step covering untold distances as the planet sought to lengthen the distance between them and the palace.
They converged around the palace from different angles, hundreds of creatures roaring and crying out as they filled the air, land, and seas, their intention clear and ominous. The final battle for the heart of Ibere raged on, the forces of chaos closing in, relentless and unyielding.
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“We only have one chance to get this right,” Moyo said, his voice carrying the weight of their fate. “I apologize that this must fall on your hands after you’ve given so much already, but I see no other way out of this situation.” The room fell deathly silent.
“This plan of yours,” Varis began, “what do you hope to accomplish?” Moyo folded his hands behind him. “Change,” he replied simply, the entire room hanging on his every word.
“Too long have things been the way they were—a stop-gap measure, as I’ve recently learned. Things have to come full circle, everything,” he said. “Look at you, all speaking in riddles now,” Rieus said. Moyo glanced at the primordial, no words spoken, as Rieus seemed to turn as white as a sheet of paper.
Whatever the Titan Blade was doing to the primordial, the rest of the room was not privy to it. Moyo removed his gaze from him, the primordial exhaling with a shudder, Varis shaking his head without a word.
A Hand of Anansi suddenly appeared at Ashira’s side, whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened as she turned to Moyo, who nodded. “I can feel them,” he said, “tainting my realm, but I can hold them back for now.”
“Why don’t you simply stop them?” Kairos asked.
“I am but a mere sliver of sentience from the true Titan, and he has his entire mind on the battle. But he has entrusted this fight to you all because he trusts you,” Moyo replied, “all of you,” he added, his eyes roaming around the room.
“What do you want us to do?” Annika’s voice came from above, drawing the attention of the entire room, including Moyo’s. The Titan smiled, his hand unfurling as a hologram of the entire planet took shape.
“Well, let’s begin,” he said.
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All across the planet, large crystalline mountains erupted from the ground, each positioned strategically near the marching forces of chaos that brought the night with them. From these rippling mountains emerged the assembled forces of the Archailect, pouring out by the thousands and then more. They waved the banners of their respective factions but stood united in purpose, led by the primordials and the powers of the Archailect.
The forces of chaos paused, caught off guard for a moment, before roaring in anger and crashing into the ranks of the Archailect. The air filled with the sound of clashing weapons, battle cries, and the roar of unleashed powers.
The final battle for reality had begun.