Moyo crashed into the crust of the planet like a meteor, blinded by the storm of dust both he and the reaper had conjured. The world itself seemed to struggle to heal despite the draining presence of the glowing palace, which shimmered like a city of gold. He sprang to his feet, blade raised to parry an expected strike—but no strike came. No blow, no snarl, not even a scream of rage. Only silence.

Even as he tapped into Ibere, becoming one with the dust and the very essence of the planet, he found... nothing.

Moyo snapped his eyes open, launching himself high above the cloud of dust. From this vantage, he saw the forces of the Archailect retreating toward the glowing palace in the distance. Frustration gnawed at him. Here he was, with the power of reality at his fingertips, and yet he couldn't locate a single enemy—

His senses flared. Something crucial had slipped past him. Without hesitation, Moyo shot toward the palace, passing through barrier after barrier, each parting for him as if welcoming his presence. He ignored the stares of the rulers, their gazes laced with doubt as they felt the energy drain from the core of their power.

Within moments, he was in the throne room, where the egg floated above the throne, surrounded by his Shieldborne. Idris turned to him. "My lord," he said as Moyo landed, nodding in acknowledgment before moving toward the egg, which was covered in swirling runes.

“We heard... is it true? Does the reaper come?” Josh asked, his Valoris gaze fixed on Moyo.

Moyo nodded, his eyes locked on the egg, which pulsed with lines of creation and chaos, its power being funneled into the cocooned creature within. Outside, explosions rattled the palace as forces from all clans arrived, brought in by large vessels. Masters, diamonds, and ancients filled the room once more as Moyo waved his hand, and a holographic map of the planet materialized before them.

“Apophis is here. He comes,” Moyo said, his voice grave as murmurs spread through the room. “If this place falls, it’s all over,” Eses said, materializing in her silver dragon form, coiling around a pillar. Once, her presence alone could have driven an entire galaxy into submission. Now, she was just one among many.

“The mountains... what were they?” Tiamat asked. “You had us defend them, and now we've left them unopposed.”

“They’re irrelevant,” Moyo replied. “They've served their purpose. Now, all that matters is this." He pointed to the egg, its pressure unnoticed by most in the room, even the Shieldborne warriors standing beside it.

“It is our hope, our beginning and end, all in one,” a deep voice intoned as Lotes materialized with the rest of the Supremes. The entire room dropped to their knees in awe. Moyo cast a concerned glance at the Supremes, sensing the dimming of their power. Their ties to reality were fraying.

Lotes smiled sadly at Moyo, walking to the egg. "It is our only hope for surviving what's coming—and being reborn anew," she said.

“We will stand and die by its side,” Alastor added, drawing his blade as the swordsmen in the room followed suit.

The palace shook again as a sea of inky darkness spread rapidly toward them. "He comes... Azael and his patron, a two-pronged attack," Filvux said, studying the map while extending her hand to the egg, letting it siphon her aspect.

“I can’t be in two places at once,” Moyo muttered. “My attention needs to be drawn to one front.”

“We will guard the egg, along with your Shieldborne,” Draulr said. “Who will stand with us?”

“House Kairos will,” Kairos declared, stepping forward.

“As will the House of the Phoenix,” Raye Garuda added, her house stepping forward as well. Moyo nodded, relief washing over him.

“Then I’ll face Azael—"

"No. I will," came a voice from behind him, silencing the room. All eyes turned to Ajax, who marched forward.

"You must deal with the snake," Ajax said. "Let me handle Azael."

“Why should we trust you, traitor?” an unknown ruler snarled, anger flaring in the room. The crowd began to shout, calling for Ajax’s head. Amidst the chaos, Killian and Duval gripped their blades, glancing warily around.

“Because he’s earned it,” Alastor’s voice cut through the noise, commanding attention. “Honor, blood, sweat, and debt—he’s tried to repay it all from the very beginning.”

“You sought revenge, Ajax, and then atonement,” Alastor continued. "Do you realize you may not come back from this?"

“I cannot undo the damage I’ve done to reality and countless worlds,” Ajax said, stepping forward, his voice filled with resolve. "But if I must die to create a better world, then I will gladly do so."

Alastor blinked at Ajax, then nodded, snapping his fingers. Ajax’s blade appeared in Alastor’s hands, the room falling silent in awe.

“Your will is sharp, Ajax, as sharp as your blade," Alastor said. "And yet, you hide your grief behind mirth and jokes." The supreme's hands moved, and the blade shattered, releasing a billowing power that Lotes breathed fire into, reforging it before their eyes.

“I forge you a weapon to last beyond the end. A legacy for you to carry," Alastor said, the shards clicking together, glowing bright gold.

"I give you Reaper, severer of existences,” Alastor proclaimed, handing the newly forged weapon to Ajax. The sword, now a thing of black and white, hummed with the power of edges. Ajax gripped it tightly before kneeling, tears filling his eyes.

“Cleanse yourself with this task, and may what remains of the Archailect be with you, Ajax of the Reaping Katana,” Alastor said, smiling down at him.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

*********************************

The creatures of chaos swarmed toward the palace walls in countless numbers, a ravenous tide of destruction. Leading them were the more intelligent named ones, their chaotic forms dripping with black drool. One, smaller but cunning, growled to a larger figure beside it, a creature wielding a blade twice its size.

“We’re approaching the walls,” the creature growled. “We must break through before the rest.”

“I know,” scoffed the larger figure, its voice cold and commanding. “When word of my deeds reaches the avatar, I will be rewarded. I will take the head of the titan and become the next anointed!”

“Primordial!” screeched another of its escort, pointing toward the distant walls where a figure in blue robes stood, radiating power that shielded the defenders from the worst of the chaos assault. The large creature known as Zolgos snarled, crushing the skull of an Ascender beneath his hand and pushing the broken body down the wall.

“He’s mine,” Zolgos hissed. “I will kill a primordial with my own hands. Let it be known that I ended him.”

With a sadistic grin, Zolgos charged into the fray, his lesser kin following close behind. The first Ascender fell to his blade so easily that Zolgos barely registered the kill. His weapon, infused with raw chaos, sliced effortlessly through another, cleaving the body clean in half. The edge of his blade pulsed with malevolent power, perfecting each strike as he moved through the battlefield like a storm.

“Primordial!” Zolgos roared, his forces parting before him, clearing a path to the figure in blue. “Primordial!”

The battle on the walls was brutal and close. Fighters on both sides were pressed together, with little room for finesse. Zolgos cut through a diamond-ranked Ascender with a single blow, blood spraying across his face as he relished the kill. The chaos creatures screeched as they tore through the defenders, while cannons fired from a distance, hammering the larger chaos beasts attempting to batter down the wall.

One such creature, immense and hulking, was hit repeatedly. Its chaos barrier shattered under the relentless fire, and its oily black body disintegrated into a pool of darkness, the remnants siphoned away toward the source that weakened them all.

“Deal with the ruler!” Zolgos ordered, not looking back as his forces turned to engage the Ascender who had been directing the fire. “I do not want distractions. The primordial is mine!”

“But our mission—”

“Do it!” Zolgos shrieked, eyes wild with rage. “Bring him down!”

His forces obeyed, and Zolgos pressed on. “Primordial!” he screamed joyfully. “Face me!”

Ahead, the primordial, surrounded by fallen creatures of chaos, dispatched three more with a single sweep of his blade, his form radiating blistering intent. Zolgos’s mind flooded with memories, a collective recognition of the primordial’s identity.

“Altair?” Zolgos muttered. “The Thousandblades?” A grin split his face. “Today will be celebrated for generations—the day I, Zolgos, first of the numbered, slew the hero of the Ascenders!”

Zolgos saluted mockingly. “I am your end, Thousandblades.”

Altair, unimpressed, stepped forward. “Never heard of you,” he said flatly before launching his attack, his blade moving with terrifying speed and precision. Zolgos parried, laughing, his chaos-enhanced sword moving seemingly on its own to block the strike. Altair’s follow-up was met with equal skill, but Zolgos sensed an opening. He lunged for the kill.

He missed.

Altair sidestepped the blow with minimal effort, flicking his blade to turn Zolgos’s strike aside. Zolgos felt the power of chaos beginning to wane. The world around him, once vibrant and fueled by his strength, dulled. Rain fell, mixing with the blood of the dead as the sounds of battle dimmed. Panic set in as he realized that the borrowed power from Azael’s consciousness was fading, leaving him vulnerable.

Altair pressed his advantage, his strikes coming faster, harder. Zolgos struggled to block the blows, his earlier confidence crumbling with each deflection. The weight of his blade increased as the chaos energy leached away, leaving him sluggish and desperate.

“No... no!” Zolgos cried, stumbling as Altair’s blade slammed into his own, nearly knocking it from his grip.

“That’s always the problem with your kind,” Altair said, his voice calm and cold. “You spawn of chaos rush into battle, drunk on your stolen power. But few of you are ever truly worthy of facing an Ascender.”

Zolgos’s vision blurred. His sword felt like lead in his hand. The reality he had thought was within his grasp was slipping away, and for the first time, the creature of chaos knew fear.

Altair swung his sword overhand, building up a powerful momentum that would have split a ruler in two. Zolgos barely parried it in time, staggering backward and nearly tripping over the corpse of an Ascender. Another blow followed, then another. Zolgos, one of the esteemed numbered of chaos, struggled to keep up. Altair’s speed was relentless, his strikes precise and punishing.

Zolgos had earned a reputation as a formidable swordsman, but Altair was a hero of the Archailect, his name whispered across countless worlds. Every attack Zolgos made was effortlessly countered, each parry numbing his arm further. A riposte failed, Altair’s blade scraping against Zolgos’s side, sending sparks flying.

“My kins!” Zolgos cried out, panic rising in his chest. "To me!"

His voice was swallowed by the chaos of battle. His kin fought on, their numbers reduced to mere dozens, overwhelmed by the Ascenders.

"Help me!" Zolgos pleaded, pure terror coloring his voice.

He had his back to the edge of the wall, unable to retreat any further. Altair stood before him, sword intent radiating from his blade like a storm in the downpour of rain.

"Listen to you," Altair said, his voice filled with contempt. "The so-called masters of fear, reduced to this. You’re nothing but cowards, like all the spawns of chaos."

With a swift slash, Altair's sword tore across Zolgos’s chest, shattering the feeble chaos barrier that had protected him. His blade severed Zolgos’s hand, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. The creature of chaos staggered, weakened as his energy bled from the wound.

Altair didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, smashing Zolgos in the face with the hilt of his sword. The force sent cracks spreading across Zolgos’s body as raw chaos leaked from him like blood. Desperately, Zolgos tried to parry the next attack, but Altair batted the attempt aside. His sword plunged downward, slicing deep into Zolgos’s chest, cutting through his bones and flesh with brutal finality.

Zolgos staggered, his feet slipping on the blood-slicked wall. He fell, scrambling to stop his descent as he clawed at the polished stone, but his strength was failing. He slid toward the edge, a helpless scream escaping him as he neared the drop.

Altair followed, placing a heavy red boot on Zolgos’s broken chest, pinning him in place. Zolgos gasped in pain, his eyes wide with terror as the primordial leaned closer, his gaze filled with disdain.

"You are, and always were, an abomination," Altair snarled, his voice like thunder over the battlefield. "You took the scraps the reaper fed you and convinced yourself you were something more. Worthy of testing your blade against mine? Selfish, monstrous tormentors of the weak. If Azael hadn’t turned, I would have hunted your kind down myself. But here you are, saving me the trouble."

Altair shifted the weight of his foot, pressing down harder. Zolgos groaned in agony, his strength almost gone.

"Wait!" Zolgos begged, his voice desperate. "I surrender. You’ve beaten me. I am your prisoner!" he screeched, hoping the once primordial’s mortal nature might trick him.

Altair’s eyes narrowed. "There can be no prisoners in this war. How much mercy did you show to those you killed, you vile thing? I have just as much mercy for you as you had for them. Now, get off my wall."

With a powerful shove, Altair sent Zolgos skidding toward the edge. The chaos creature clawed at the polished surface, trying to find purchase with his one remaining hand. His elbow caught on the rounded corner of the wall, and for a fleeting moment, he believed he might save himself.

He looked up, his gaze locking with Altair’s, defiance flickering in his eyes.

"You will pay for this," Zolgos hissed.

Altair snapped his fingers, and a heavily armored master appeared beside him, a massive silver hammer in hand. The master looked down at Zolgos, then raised the hammer.

"He said, get off his wall," the master growled before bringing the hammer down with a sickening crunch.

The blow shattered Zolgos’s form, dispersing his essence into raw chaos, which was quickly siphoned away by the force that consumed all.