Matana’s gaze flickered in disbelief as a dark frost crept across the chamber, transforming its jagged stone walls into an icy abyss. The frost’s eerie, black sheen shimmered faintly, seeming to pulse with a life of its own. It wasn’t just cold.... it was oppressive, as though the ice sought to crush the very essence of existence within its grasp.
“What is this?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the faint crackling of spreading ice. His golden eyes widened, reflecting the encroaching darkness. “I’ve never felt anything like this before…”
The frost tightened around the chamber like a predator closing in on its prey. Despite his monstrous size, Matana felt small, insignificant, in the face of this godlike force.
In the distance, Emma strode forward, her every step a deliberate statement. The faint glow of the Sword of Fate illuminated her path, its ethereal light casting long, ominous shadows. She moved with a calm posture, her eyes still shut but her presence radiating an overwhelming power.
Matana’s claws scraped against the icy ground as he tried to comprehend the surge of energy emanating from her. His voice wavered. “Who… who are you?”
Emma’s lips curled into a faint smile, but her steps did not falter. “Dark Frost Destruction: Imprisonment,” she whispered.
The black ice surged forward in response to her command, coiling around Matana like living tendrils. The monstrous feline screeched, his cry reverberating through the chamber, but the frost refused to yield. It climbed higher, weaving itself into a cage that shimmered with malevolent energy.
Matana thrashed, his claws raking against the bars, but they held firm. Emma continued her slow approach, her expression unchanging.
“Perfect,” she said, her voice mocking, yet calm. “A wild cat needs to be kept in a cage, don’t you agree, Matana?”
Matana’s golden eyes began to glow with an otherworldly brilliance as he searched for answers. His vision pierced through Emma, peeling away the layers of her being. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.
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“You… are you not human?” he whispered. Then he hesitated, as though correcting himself. “No… you are human. But you have two Ki Cores. A human Ki Core—and a damaged dragon Ki Core.” He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the freezing silence. “This… this is impossible. In all my existence, I have never seen anything like this.”
Emma tilted her head slightly, her faint smile unwavering.
Matana slumped against the icy bars of his prison, his claws dulling against the frost. For the first time, his voice softened, heavy with resignation. “Do whatever you will. Just… let me rest.”
Emma stopped just outside the cage, her grip on the Sword of Fate tightening. Her smile widened, cold and devoid of sympathy. “Not yet.”
Her tone shifted, laced with a quiet menace. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘There is no rest for the wicked’?”
The sword gleamed as she raised it. Without hesitation, she thrust it through the bars, driving it into Matana’s monstrous form.
And the loop began again.
Emma stabbed.
And stabbed.
Each time, the world reset. Each time, Matana was forced to endure her relentless assault. The cycle repeated.... over and over, unyielding and brutal.
A thousand more loops passed.
On the 2,079th iteration, the once-mighty Matana lay crumpled on the dark, frost-covered floor. His enormous, monstrous form had shrunk, now no larger than that of an ordinary housecat. His golden eyes, once burning with vitality and rage, were dim and lifeless.
He looked up at Emma with hollow resignation. “Just kill me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Emma crouched beside him, her expression cold and unfeeling. “Why don’t you kill yourself?”
Matana’s ears twitched, and he let out a soft, bitter chuckle. “If I do that, the loop will start all over, won’t it?”
Emma nodded, her smile returning. “You’re smarter than the average cat. I’ll give you that.” She reached out, her voice soft but no less menacing. “Why don’t you become my first sentinel in this world?”
Matana didn’t flinch as the black frost began to creep over his shrunken form. He closed his eyes, letting out a low sigh of surrender. “That’s better than suffering an endless loop,” he murmured. Then, with a faint, humorless laugh, he added, “I’ve lived for eons, and yet, in all that time, I’ve never encountered someone as insane as you. Especially not a child.”
The frost consumed him entirely, his body disintegrating into a fine black dust. The dust swirled around Emma, drawn to her presence as though recognizing its master. It circled her once, then faded into nothingness.
The chamber fell silent.
Matana, the once-mighty otherworldly being, was finally dead.
And yet, from the ashes of his existence, something new had been forged.
Matana had been reborn..... As Emma’s First Sentinel.