Final Clash (Arthur vs Abaddon)

Arthur stood firm, his aura radiating with raw power. Excalibur's glow intensified, the blade now a beacon of hope. The air around him crackled with energy as he prepared for the decisive strike.

Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands, his voice steady and filled with resolve. "In God's will, give me strength. I will win. I shall stand, just as my father before me."

With a mighty leap, Arthur launched himself from one piece of floating debris to another, climbing higher through the battlefield. Each step brought him closer to his enemy.

Abaddon hovered in the sky, his blood-forged blade pulsating with malevolent energy. "Arthur!" the Demon King roared, his voice shaking the heavens. "I will bring your home to ruin! Nothing will remain but a crater—a testament to your failure!"

Arthur's sword flared brighter, its brilliance almost blinding as he reached the peak of his ascent.

Abaddon's blade erupted with dark energy, crackling with destructive force. The Demon King aimed his weapon to obliterate the entire town, his laughter echoing across the battlefield.

With a final burst of strength, both warriors charged at each other, their weapons poised to deliver the ultimate blow.

The clash of their swords was deafening, the light and darkness colliding in a cataclysmic explosion that left the battlefield in suspended chaos.

The scene fades out, leaving the sound of their clash echoing in the void.

Aftermath: Alaric and Artreus

In the aftermath of Arthur's mana magic, Alaric found himself in an unfamiliar, icy terrain. The cold bit through his armor as he held the unconscious Artreus in his arms. The boy's pale face and shallow breathing filled him with worry.

Alaric glanced around, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Where are we?" he muttered, his voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. "Artreus... we need to find shelter."

Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the boy and the chilling wind sapping his strength. But he pushed on, his eyes scanning the dark, frozen landscape.

"Hang in there, Artreus…" Alaric whispered, his grip tightening.

In the distance, a faint glimmer of light pierced the darkness, sparking a flicker of hope in Alaric's weary heart.

"A village?" he muttered to himself, quickening his pace despite his fatigue.

As he approached, the light revealed a small cluster of houses, their windows glowing with the warmth of life. Alaric staggered to the nearest door, knocking urgently.

"Help! Is anyone there?" he called, his voice filled with desperation. "We need shelter!"

The door creaked open, and a middle-aged villager peered out. His eyes widened at the sight of the battered knight and the unconscious boy.

"Oh dear," the villager exclaimed, stepping back to let them in. "What happened to you?"

"Please," Alaric said, his voice hoarse. "This boy needs help. Can you give us a place to stay?"

"Of course, come in, come in!" The villager ushered them inside without hesitation.

The warmth of the house enveloped them, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The villager led Alaric to a small room, where he gently laid Artreus down on a modest bed.

"Thank you," Alaric said, his shoulders sagging with relief. "We've had… a rough night."

The villager nodded, his concern evident. "I'll fetch some blankets and water. And there's a doctor in the village—he can help the boy."

Alaric watched as the villager left the room, then turned his attention back to Artreus. He knelt beside the bed, brushing the boy's silver hair from his face.

"You're safe now, lad," he murmured softly. "Just rest."

As the warmth of the room began to chase away the cold, Alaric allowed himself a moment of respite. But in his heart, he knew the battle was far from over.

As the villager hurried out to fetch the doctor, Alaric sat by Artreus's side. The weight of the night bore heavily on him, each moment replaying in his mind like a relentless storm.

The chaos. The battle. Arthur's desperate magic to save his brother. It all felt like a terrible dream, one he couldn't wake from.

He glanced at the unconscious boy. Artreus's chest rose and fell faintly, his face pale but peaceful in sleep. The sight brought some comfort, but the uncertainty of their future loomed over him like a dark shadow. They were far from home, far from the battle… but not far from danger.

Alaric sighed, his weary eyes fixating on the flickering light of a lantern. "Arthur… I hope you're still alive out there," he whispered to himself. "We can't afford to lose you."

Artreus's Dream

In the depths of his unconscious mind, Artreus dreamed of home—a simpler, happier time.

He found himself standing in their modest kitchen, the air filled with the familiar aroma of his favorite meal. The gentle hum of his mother's voice reached his ears, and he turned to see her by the stove.

"Mom?" Artreus called out, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Hilda turned with a warm smile, her hands busy stirring a pot. "Oh, Artie dear," she said, her voice as soothing as he remembered. "Dinner's almost ready, hehe. I made your favorite, with Mom's secret special ingredient… love."

She chuckled softly, her laughter light and carefree. "Go on, prepare the plates on the table. And don't forget your brother—he'll be home soon."

Artreus's heart swelled with joy as he watched her. Without hesitation, he ran toward her, his feet barely touching the ground in his eagerness to reach her.

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But just as he was about to embrace her, the scene shifted.

A cold, sinister voice pierced the air.

"You cannot escape the darkness, boy…"

Artreus froze, his surroundings warping into a nightmare. The kitchen dissolved into ash, replaced by a burning town. The flames rose higher, consuming everything in sight. He stumbled backward, his gaze falling upon the charred remains of homes, the screams of the innocent ringing in his ears.

In the distance, he saw her—his mother, engulfed in flames, her figure burning to a crisp.

"Mom!" Artreus screamed, his voice breaking.

But it was too late.

Abaddon's voice thundered above the destruction, cold and unforgiving. "The sins of the father always find the son. Look at this destruction, boy. This is your inheritance. This is your destiny."

Tears streaked down Artreus's face as the inferno consumed everything around him, the Demon King's cruel laughter echoing in his mind.

Awakening

A few days passed since the harrowing night. Artreus stirred, his eyes fluttering open to an unfamiliar ceiling. His body ached, and his head throbbed as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Where am I?" he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Hearing movement, Artreus pushed himself up weakly as the door creaked open. Alaric stepped inside, his expression softening with relief when he saw Artreus awake.

"You're awake," Alaric said, his voice warm with gratitude. "Thank goodness."

Artreus's heart leapt at the familiar face. "Uncle Alaric?" he asked anxiously, his mind racing. "Where am I? Where's Mom?"

At the mention of Hilda, Alaric's expression darkened. His lips tightened, and he hesitated before speaking, the weight of the truth heavy on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Artreus," he said quietly. "We're the only ones who survived."

The words hit Artreus like a hammer. His heart clenched, and his chest felt hollow.

"No…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Tears welled in his eyes as the memories of the battle, the fire, and his dream came flooding back. His mother's laughter, her warm smile—they were gone, replaced by the chilling image of her burning in the flames.

"Tsk…" Artreus bit his lip, his fists clenching tightly. The weight of loss threatened to crush him, but beneath it, a spark of defiance began to grow.

Alaric knelt beside him, his hand resting gently on the boy's shoulder. "We'll get through this, Artreus," he said firmly. "You're not alone. Your brother… your family's legacy—they'll live on through you."

Artreus wiped at his eyes, his jaw tightening as he nodded faintly. Though his heart ached, he felt the flicker of a resolve he hadn't known he possessed.

As dawn broke, Alaric descended the creaking stairs, his mind heavy with the task of supporting Artreus through his grief. The aroma of freshly baked bread and stew wafted through the small house, and the couple who had taken them in were already bustling about, preparing breakfast.

The woman noticed Alaric first and greeted him with a warm smile. "Good morning! Would you like some breakfast?"

Alaric nodded politely. "Thank you."

The man glanced up from the table, his voice tinged with concern. "How's the boy?"

Alaric's face darkened slightly, the weight of the night still fresh. "He's been through a lot. He needs time… and space."

The woman's hand went to her chest, her voice soft with sympathy. "Oh, my…"

Before long, footsteps creaked on the stairs, and Artreus cautiously made his way down. The woman noticed him immediately and waved him over with a kind smile.

"Oh, hi there! Come and have some breakfast, dear."

Artreus hesitated for a moment before sitting at the table. His movements were slow, his expression distant as if his mind was elsewhere. The warmth of the room and the couple's kindness felt almost foreign amidst the sadness that clouded his thoughts.

Alaric, seated nearby, offered a quiet word of gratitude. "Thank you for your hospitality. We don't know how to repay you."

The man waved it off, smiling. "No need. We're not used to visitors around here. Please, eat."

The woman, looking at Artreus, added gently, "We're sorry for your loss—your family, your friends… your home."

Alaric nodded faintly, acknowledging her words. "It's… It's okay. Sometimes things happen unexpectedly."

The man clenched his fists, his voice growing firm. "I just hope those knights of yours kill every last one of those monsters."

Artreus listened silently, his thoughts drifting. Memories of his mother and the peaceful town they once called home swirled in his mind. He pushed the food around on his plate, his appetite minimal.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "What's going to happen to us now?"

Alaric looked at him, his heart aching for the boy. "We'll figure it out, Artreus," he said gently. "For now, we need to stay safe and let ourselves heal. There's a long road ahead, but you're not alone in this."

As the day waned and shadows lengthened across the small room, Artreus sat by the window, his gaze distant. Outside, the faint rustle of wind through the trees was a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. Memories of his mother's laughter and the warmth of their home mingled painfully with the echoes of fire and destruction.

The weight of his brother's sacrifice pressed down on him, intertwining with the sharp sting of loss. His fingers traced the grooves of the table beside him as he tried to make sense of what lay ahead.

The soft creak of the door pulled him from his thoughts. Alaric stepped into the room, his expression unreadable but his movements deliberate. In his hand was a small object—a marble that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

"Here," Alaric said, extending the marble toward him.

Artreus hesitated, looking up at his uncle before taking it gingerly. He turned the small sphere over in his hands, its surface impossibly smooth, almost warm to the touch.

"What's this?" Artreus asked, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of confusion. "A marble?"

Alaric lowered himself onto the chair beside Artreus, his expression somber. "Your brother, Arthur, gave it to me. He told me to pass it on to you if… if anything ever happened to him."

Artreus's brow furrowed as he studied the marble. The faintest hum of energy seemed to pulse from within, almost as if it were alive.

"He gave this to you for me?" Artreus murmured, his voice quieter now.

Alaric nodded, his tone grave but steady. "He said to tell you to crush it. He didn't explain much more, but knowing Arthur, it's something important. Something that might help you."

Artreus glanced at Alaric, searching his face for answers. "Crush it? Why?"

Alaric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. "Arthur didn't leave instructions, just that this marble was meant for you. Maybe it's a way for him to still be there for you, even if he can't be here in person."

The words struck a chord deep within Artreus. He returned his gaze to the marble, his fingers tightening around it. The faint glow seemed to respond to his touch, growing stronger for a moment before settling into its steady rhythm.

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as resolve settled over him. "If Arthur gave this to me," he said softly, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment, "then I trust him."

Alaric watched silently, his heart heavy with both pride and sorrow as he saw a flicker of Arthur's determination in the boy's eyes. Whatever was to come, he knew Artreus was ready to face it.

Late that night, the guest room was silent, save for the faint creaking of wood as the wind pressed against the house. Artreus sat alone on the small bed, the marble resting in his palm. Its smooth, polished surface reflected the dim glow of the oil lamp on the bedside table.

He stared at it intently, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and unease. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he muttered, running his thumb over its surface. His brother's words echoed in his mind: Crush it.

He rose from the bed, pacing the room as he wrestled with his thoughts. "So, my brother tells me to crush it… But what if it's dangerous? What if I mess this up?" He stopped, shaking his head.

"No." His voice grew firmer. "Arthur wouldn't give me something like this if it wasn't important."

Determined, Artreus held the marble up to the light, its faint glow seeming almost alive. "Alright," he said to himself. "I'll crush it!"

With a deep breath, he clenched the marble tightly in his fist, his knuckles whitening. For a moment, nothing happened. He opened his palm, staring at the shattered pieces in confusion.

"Hmm… Nothing happens?" he murmured, glancing around the room.

Then, without warning, the marble's remnants began to pulse with energy. A surge of magic swirled up from his hand, enveloping him in a bright, otherworldly light. The room shook violently, the walls trembling as if an earthquake had struck.

Artreus's eyes widened in shock as the magic consumed him, lifting him off the ground. "What's happening?!" he yelled, his voice swallowed by the rising roar of the magical energy.

In a flash, the light grew blinding, and Artreus disappeared, leaving the room silent once more.