Aztlán: First Representation, Emperor of the Cycle

The Zorath watched with a mixture of disbelief and growing fury. That young man, with pink hair, was stopping the colossal arms of his monster with a single hand. His face showed no effort at all, as if it were as easy as stopping a breeze.

With a deep sigh, the young man pushed the monster’s arms upward with such overwhelming force that the gigantic being of trees lost its balance. It fell with a deafening roar, breaking everything in its path—trees, rocks, earth. The scene was a mixture of absolute power and pure indifference.

"Comrade, may I ask what you are doing?"

(The Zorath said, irritated.)

His tone was filled with frustration, as if he no longer had the patience to wait for an answer. But the pink-haired young man did not say a word. He remained motionless, indifferent to what was happening around him.

"It seems you didn’t hear me. I asked you what you are doing."

The Zorath’s voice grew harsher, like a restrained roar. His anger was palpable, and he looked increasingly irritated.

Morgan, as if he didn’t care about the tension, turned his gaze toward Adán and Ariel. He analyzed them carefully, evaluating them with an unsettling coldness. Then, he shifted his attention back to the Zorath and, mechanically, repeated the phrase he had said before.

"Aztlán, First Representation, Emperor of the Cycle, Insectoid Branch, Specimen Number One, Scarabeus Scacer."

The Zorath, however, was unimpressed.

"Comrade, I do not know why you are interfering in my path, but I will ask you only once: leave and do not meddle in my affairs."

(The Zorath said in a hostile manner.)

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, like the shadow of a scythe ready to fall upon the pink-haired young man’s neck.

Adán, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke, his voice trembling, full of uncertainty.

"What… what are you doing here? Why did you save us?"

Morgan looked at Adán again. There was nothing human in his eyes, only a cold void. His pupils had disappeared, leaving only lifeless pink eyes, as if he were lost in another plane of existence. Adán saw something in his eyes that froze his blood: that young man was no longer human. He was no longer there.

The Zorath erupted in fury, his face twisted with rage and contempt.

"Do you dare ignore ME? ME, Lord Etelgan?! I don’t know what damned race you belong to, but first, you interrupted my sweet moment with Iliana, and now… now you dare to ignore me, you damn nobody?! Unacceptable! Unacceptable! UNACCEPTABLE!"

(Etelgan said, filled with rage.)

His voice became rougher and more beastly, revealing a more aggressive side, like a monster burning with fury.

With a sharp snap of his fingers, the titan of trees rose again, its gaze fixed on Morgan—he was now its target.

"It seems you need to be punished as well… Ah, you’ve put me in a very bad mood. But don’t worry, when I’m done with this, I’ll have a little fun with my sweet Iliana… and maybe we can have Ariel join our little game. Ah, how exciting, how exciting…"

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(The Zorath said, his voice filled with twisted delight.)

The colossal being, imposing and terrifying, took a few steps toward Morgan, making the ground tremble with each movement. When it was close, it lifted its foot with the intention of crushing the young man.

"Alright, let’s finish this and get back to what we were doing."

(The Zorath said, his voice devoid of any compassion.)

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the air.

"MORGAN! MORGAN, PLEASE, HELP MY PARENTS! I BEG YOU, I PLEAD WITH YOU! I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, BUT PLEASE, HELP MY MOM AND DAD!"

Iliana screamed, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with pure terror as she begged for help.

The Zorath approached her with a cruel, malicious smile. He covered her mouth with one hand, gripping her face tightly, and looked at her with monstrous coldness.

"No, no, no… Good girls shouldn’t cry. So stop, my sweet Iliana, or I’ll have to punish you too. And I don’t want to do that, do I? Do I? Please, stop crying…"

(Etelgan said coldly.)

The Zorath’s voice grew more venomous, like poison crawling under the skin.

He positioned himself behind Iliana, still covering her mouth, preventing her from speaking, and whispered into her ear.

"Look, this is what happens when they make me angry."

Morgan, still with his impassive expression, watched as the monster was about to crush him. But he did not move a single inch. His face showed nothing—no trace of emotion.

"Alright, let’s say goodbye to our friend… goodbye, goodbye."

The Zorath murmured mockingly, grabbing one of Iliana’s arms and moving it left and right like a broken toy, making a waving gesture with her hand.

With a diabolical smile, Etelgan raised a finger and pointed at Morgan, violently signaling downward. The titan of trees brought its foot down with force, like a hammer, to crush Morgan. Iliana tried to scream, but the Zorath’s hand prevented her. Tears continued to stream down her face, her soul shattered.

"I told you to stop crying."

The Zorath whispered in her ear, a threat wrapped in poisonous sweetness, his cold gaze utterly terrifying.

The monster’s foot crashed into the ground with a deafening sound, but Morgan did not move. Not a single inch.

"Alright, now let’s get back to our business."

Etelgan couldn’t hide his frustration. He smiled again, but this time, his smile turned into a grimace of confusion.

The pink-haired young man was there, holding up the monster’s foot with a single hand—without any effort.

"Impossible! I thought the first time was just luck, but… this guy is preventing himself from being crushed with pure brute strength."

(Etelgan said, worried.)

"What damned race does this brat belong to? He has no fur, no ears, his tail is different, and he has no fur… Drakaris? No… He’s not one of them, he has no wings. Then, who the hell is he?"

(The Zorath thought, confused.)

His twisted mind was incapable of finding answers—he had never seen anything like this before.

Morgan stopped holding back the monster and lifted it with both hands. The strength with which he threw it was such that the monster was sent flying through the air like a mere doll.

"Alright… If that’s how you want it, I’ll take this seriously. I’ll show you my Karma."

(The Zorath said, his voice laced with cold, calculated hatred.)

"No matter how strong you are, I can see that you were not blessed by it. So I’ll be kind to you… I’ll show you what true power looks like."

(Etelgan said, smiling arrogantly.)

Then, with a calculated gesture, he revealed his wrist. A grotesque tattoo covered his arm—two intertwined roots that seemed to move with a life of their own.

"Tremble, trash, before the manifestation of my Karma! Elder Gra."

Etelgan blinked, and his gaze shifted. Morgan was no longer where he had been before. Instead, a deadly embrace trapped him from behind.

The young man no longer had his armor, nor his horns. Now, his body was covered in white fur, and his hands were coated in jet black. Two sharp mandibles protruded from his mouth.

Etelgan froze, staring into those empty, pink eyes, which expanded to fill his entire eye sockets, and terror immediately overtook him. His once-imposing body now felt completely vulnerable.

Then, something worse than terror seized him. Morgan’s insectoid wings emerged, and a suffocating heat began to engulf them. The air grew dense—almost unbearable.

"What is this?! It burns! It burns!"

The Zorath screamed in palpable desperation, his arrogance now reduced to pleas, his smile turned into tears of pain.

And with a voice that would chill anyone’s blood, Morgan whispered:

"Aztlán, Fifteenth Representation, Golden Sky Monarch, Specimen Number 231, Apis Cerana."

End of the chapter.

Next chapter: Nightmares.