With the other two greater titans out of the picture, Chris eyes focus entirely on the towering form of Coeus. The Titan had recovered from the initial shock of the lightning strike, but the pain and damage were evident. The Titan's wings, once pristine and fearsome, now bore the marks of Chris' wrath, the feathers charred and brittle.
With a roar that echoed through the heavens, Chris launched himself at Coeus, his axe raised high. Lightning danced along the axe, the energy crackling in anticipation of the strike. The Titan responded with a barrage of cosmic beams, but Chris was undeterred. He weaved through the attacks with incredible speed, the lightning granting him an almost ethereal agility.
When he reached Coeus, Chris brought his axe down with all the force he could muster. The blade bit deep into the Titan's wing, the lightning-infused strike tearing through flesh and bone. Coeus screeched in pain, the force of the blow nearly severing the wing entirely.
“This is for Neil!” Chris snarled, his voice thick with anger. He yanked the axe free, the motion causing another surge of lightning to course through Coeus's body.
The Titan flailed, his once-mighty wings now struggling to keep him aloft. The cosmic energy that had seemed so unstoppable moments ago was faltering under the relentless assault of the Thunder King. Chris pressed his advantage, launching a series of devastating strikes that drove Coeus back.
But Coeus was not without his own power. In a desperate attempt to fend off his attacker, the Titan unleashed a burst of gravitational energy, the black holes around him expanding with a violent force. Chris was momentarily caught in the pull, his body dragged toward the swirling void.
For a moment, it seemed as though Coeus might regain the upper hand. The rest watched in horror as Chris struggled against the gravitational pull, his body straining to break free.
But Chris was far from finished. Summoning every ounce of his strength, he let out a roar that echoed through the heavens. A surge of lightning erupted from his body, the energy so intense that it shattered the pull of the black holes. With a final, mighty swing of his axe, Chris struck Coeus once more, this time driving the blade deep into the Titan's other wing.
Coeus let out a final, agonized cry as the lightning tore through him, the damage too great for even a primordial Titan to withstand. His wings, now both severely damaged, faltered, and the Titan began to descend, his power waning.
As Coeus crashed into the jagged plain, the earth shuddered beneath his massive form. Chris landed nearby, his chest heaving with exertion, every breath a reminder of the grueling battle he had endured. The weight of his victory bore down on him, his armor scorched, and his body marked by the toll of the clash. Yet his axe still crackled with residual energy, a testament to his indomitable resolve.
Coeus lay sprawling, his celestial form dimmed, struggling feebly against the lingering chains of Chris' thunderous assault. The titan's once-mighty wings, now fractured, twitched weakly as a guttural sound of frustration and pain echoed from its throat. Chris approached the defeated primordial, his steps heavy but purposeful.
He glanced toward Motherglare and Doloros. Their battered forms crouched at a distance, their once-menacing gazes now shadowed with an unmistakable flicker of fear. For the first time, the creatures that had loomed so monstrously over the battlefield hesitated, their confidence shattered. They did not dare challenge the Thunder King.
Chris raised his axe, its radiant energy casting arcs of light across the desolate battlefield, ready to end Coeus once and for all. But a sudden surge of energy erupted from the shadows of the fallen titan’s wings, halting him in his tracks.
From the gloom emerged Rem, her form cloaked in a cold and commanding aura, her eyes burning with cosmic light. “You fight well, Thunder King,” she said, her voice cutting through the crackle of electricity, “but you have not won.”
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Before Chris could respond, she unleashed a torrent of cosmic power, its sheer intensity aimed directly at him. He twisted to the side, narrowly evading the burst, the impact of which cratered the ground behind him. Chris' face darkened with fury, his golden eyes locking onto hers.
Rem stepped back, a sly smile playing on her lips as her cosmic energy pulsed around her. “This is not the end,” she declared, her voice steady and filled with malice. “Elysion will fall, and the age of the Titans will rise again.”
With a commanding gesture, she extended her hand toward the fallen titans. Coeus, Doloros, and Motherglare groaned as shadowy tendrils enveloped them, their forms vanishing into the void. The battlefield, once filled with chaos and roaring defiance, was left eerily silent.
Chris stood there for a moment, his axe still humming with power, his mind racing. Around him, the jagged plains bore the scars of the ferocious battle, and his battered form stood as a lone sentinel against the gathering storm of what was yet to come.
——
The academy grounds were a scene of chaos and sorrow. Medics rushed back and forth, their urgent shouts echoing through the halls. "Medic here! Faster!" Stretcher after stretcher passed by, carrying wounded students and faculty. Hans sat against a cold stone pillar on the floor, his head resting in his hands, trying to process the avalanche of emotions and revelations. His vision blurred as he caught glimpses of familiar faces.
A medic hurried by with Marge on a stretcher, still unconscious from the ordeal. Behind her came Lenny, her body marred with severe burns, the smell of scorched flesh still lingering. In a corner, Shierra and Nova, now conscious but visibly shaken, sobbed quietly, their faces pale with lingering terror. The sheer devastation of what had occurred was etched into every face in the hall.
Lorenzo sat hunched in another corner, his face twisted with anguish as Martin’s words replayed in his mind—the truth about Rem’s betrayal cutting deeper than any wound he had sustained. His hands shook, clutching at the fabric of his uniform as though it could ground him.
Ika sat nearby, clutching a small pendant that Neil had given her long ago. She had never imagined she would lose him like this—not betrayed by someone they had fought alongside for so long. How could she have hidden her treachery so well?
From across the hall, Ron, Flo’s boyfriend, stood frozen, his gaze fixed on Flo as if the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them. His heart clenched at the sight of her battered form, the bruises marring her skin, and the weariness etched into her every movement. She looked like a shadow of the strong, determined girl he had always admired. He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to whisper that it would all be okay, but his feet felt like lead, his body rooted in place by a profound sense of guilt and helplessness. How could he face her after failing to protect her from such horrors?
Flo sat next to Hans, her head bowed low, the weight of the day pressing down on her slender shoulders. Her face was smeared with dirt and streaked with dried tears, traces of the silent battles she had fought and lost. She clenched her trembling hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms as she tried to hold herself together.
Her gaze wandered to the training grounds visible through the hall’s arched windows. There, amidst the fading light, lay the space where she and Rem had once sparred together, laughing and pushing each other to their limits. Her vision blurred as the memories played in her mind like ghosts of a time when things were simpler—when trust was unbroken and betrayal unthinkable. The training grounds now seemed haunted, not by literal specters, but by the bitter sting of shattered friendships.
Ron’s hands twitched as he watched her stare into the distance. He wanted to call out to her, to break through the fog of sorrow that enveloped them both, but the words lodged painfully in his throat. How could he ease her pain when he felt so powerless, so utterly incapable of making anything better?
Master Khan stood tall despite his bloodied and battered appearance, a symbol of resilience as he joined Chris and the remaining academy board. Beside him, Rena knelt next to Neil’s lifeless body. Her hands hovered over him, her voice murmuring sacred incantations as a golden glow surrounded them. The High Cleric’s duty was clear: to purify Neil’s lost soul and guide him to peace. Yet even her calm exterior could not hide the sorrow in her eyes.
The remaining members of Master Khan's team sat silently in a distant corner, receiving triage. The once-proud unit was now fractured, their strength spent and spirits crushed. Whispers rippled through the hall, carrying fragments of grief and disbelief.
“They’re back…”“But not all of them…”“Professor Neil is dead, Captain Steven too.”“One of the third years betrayed them—can you believe it? One of their own…”
These words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the hearts of the survivors. A suffocating silence followed, broken only by the distant clamor of the medics and the subdued sobs of those mourning.
—-
Far away, deep within the dark, swirling void of the Shadow Realm, Rem stood over her father, Coeus, the primordial titan. His once-glorious form now lay battered and weakened from the battle. His massive wings, once radiant with cosmic energy, were torn and damaged, shimmering faintly with stardust as they slowly healed.
Rem’s expression was cold, emotionless, as she tended to his wounds. She had made her choice—it had all been for this. To bring about the rise of the titans. Coeus stirred slightly, his deep, otherworldly voice resonating in the dark.
"They will pay," Rem whispered, her eyes burning with quiet fury. "The Thunder King may have struck today, but this is far from over.”
Coeus’ glowing eyes flickered with acknowledgment. His daughter had proven herself, and now they would wait, recover, and strike again when the time was right.
The betrayal had been set in motion long ago, and this was only the beginning.