Darius’s eyes snapped open as the world solidified around him, his heart pounding with a volatile mix of adrenaline and fear. He was instantly alert, instincts honed by countless battles roaring to life. The desolate wasteland beneath his feet came into focus—a cracked, barren landscape, littered with jagged rocks and the skeletal remains of ruined columns. Dust clung to the air, swirling like the restless ghosts of battles long past. And then he noticed the silence.

He wasn’t alone.

Hundreds of figures stood around him, locked in a tense stillness, like statues frozen mid-motion. Adventurers, warriors, and mages of every shape and size—some of familiar races, others beyond his wildest imaginings. They formed a vast circle, each warrior’s eyes flickering with suspicion, muscles coiled like springs ready to snap. The battlefield was a powder keg, waiting for a spark to ignite the explosion.

Darius’s breath hitched as he scanned the crowd. Hulking, iron-clad brutes with horned helmets loomed beside stocky warriors wielding intricately carved axes. Lithe figures cloaked in shadow moved like whispers, while others shimmered with crystalline armour that refracted light into dazzling rainbows. Some bore enchanted weapons that hummed with barely restrained power, and among them, ethereal creatures with elongated ears and eyes glowing with an unsettling, otherworldly light.

But it was the giant with the tree sized club that truly seized Darius’s attention.

A towering mass of muscle and fury stood amidst the throng, twice the height of a normal man. His skin was rough and weathered like granite, veins bulging across his neck and arms like twisted ropes. The giant’s muscles rippled beneath his skin, straining against the invisible force that held them all in place. His eyes blazed with desperate determination, veins in his neck standing taut like cords ready to snap.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the giant might actually break free. His entire body tensed, every sinew straining as he bellowed in rage, gripping the air as though he could tear reality itself apart. His iron armour groaned under the pressure, metal creaking as his muscles swelled grotesquely, veins pulsing with raw power.

Darius watched, transfixed, as the giant’s final, monstrous heave seemed to warp the very air. But then, just as quickly, the force snapped back into place. The giant’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief, the fierce hope flickering out like a dying ember. His face contorted with rage and frustration as the realization sank in—he was still trapped. A howl of pure, unbridled fury tore from his throat, reverberating across the battlefield.

Darius couldn’t look away. The giant was a testament to sheer will and strength—a living embodiment of defiance. And he was just one of many.

This gathering wasn’t just of challengers from his world. These were beings from realms Darius had never imagined. Either they hailed from eras long before his empire’s rise, or there were other towers like his scattered across the world, drawing in legends from distant lands. For the first time, Darius grasped the sheer scale of how small his world truly was.

The silence stretched on, every warrior sizing up the others, calculating who would strike first. Darius’s grip tightened around his war hammer, his shield strapped securely to his back. His pulse thundered in his ears as he evaluated the threat, the tension thick enough to choke on. No one moved, yet the battlefield crackled with unbearable anticipation.

Then, the countdown began.

A disembodied voice boomed across the wasteland, each word laced with cruel mockery. “Three… two… one…”

Hell broke loose.

The battlefield erupted in chaos as hundreds of combatants surged forward, weapons drawn and spells crackling. Darius barely had time to raise his shield before a creature with bark-like skin and sickly green eyes charged at him, swinging a wickedly curved blade. He blocked the strike with his shield, the force reverberating up his arm as Tyler mana shield lit up around him. “Thank god for that boy” he said to himself. Darius held his ground, retaliating with a crushing blow from his hammer that sent the creature sprawling.

Before he could finish it off, a towering brute with tusks protruding from his jaw barrelled into him, attempting to overpower him with sheer strength. Darius braced himself, adding weight to his shield with his gravity rune, digging his heels into the cracked earth as he held the beast at bay. The brute’s eyes bulged in fury, but Darius was unyielding. With a roar, he shoved his shield forward, unbalancing the creature, then delivered a bone-crushing hammer strike that left it crumpled on the ground.

But there was no time to relish the victory. A mage in flowing robes hurled a firebolt across the battlefield. Darius barely raised his shield in time—the flames scorched the edges of the metal, searing at his mana shield. He gritted his teeth and charged, slamming into the mage with the full weight of his shield. The caster crumpled, their focus shattered.

Around him, the battle raged—a cacophony of clashing steel, roaring beasts, and crackling magic. Darius fought with grim determination, his shield a bulwark against the relentless tide, his hammer a whirlwind of destruction. But exhaustion gnawed at him. The relentless blocking, bashing, and swinging began to take their toll. Sweat stung his eyes, mingling with the dust and blood caked on his armour.

Suddenly his mana shield blinked out and the full weight of his shield and hammer hit his tired arms. His muscles burned, breath ragged as he swung his hammer with waning strength. A coordinated assault pushed him closer to the brink—blows driving him to the edge of defeat. Only sheer determination kept him standing. He was running on fumes, and his enemies knew it.

They closed in for the kill.

A two-handed sword slashed down—Darius barely deflected it, but a mace slammed into his ribs, sending a shockwave of agony through his body. The world spun, his vision blurring as he staggered, struggling to stay upright.

That’s when he saw the giant from earlier. The massive figure had been content to observe until now, but something shifted in his eyes—a decision made. With a snarl, he tightened his grip on the colossal club he wielded, muscles rippling like molten steel as he took a thunderous step forward. The ground trembled beneath the force of his stride.

Darius barely had time to react. The giant’s roar ripped through the battlefield as he swung his club in a wide arc. The blow was monstrous, obliterating not just Darius but two other warriors standing beside him. The sheer force crushed armour and bone alike, launching Darius and the others like ragdolls across the wasteland. He felt his body crumple, bones snapping like twigs as he tumbled through the air.

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Everything went black.

The din of battle faded into muffled echoes, distant and hollow, as if he were sinking into an endless abyss. He tried to move, but nothing responded. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the cracked earth. Is this really how it ends? The thought drifted through his fading mind. He had fought so hard, survived so much—only to die here, in a place that held no meaning to him, among strangers.

But when the darkness parted, he wasn’t in the wasteland anymore.

Darius found himself standing in a forge—a place so perfect it took his breath away. It was as if every detail had been plucked from his deepest dreams. The stone walls gleamed in the light of flickering flames, tools lay arranged with meticulous care, and the anvil was polished to a mirror finish. The forge fire crackled with a comforting warmth, sending soft orange light dancing across the room. This was the forge he’d always envisioned but never had the chance to build—the kind of place where a master smith could create works of art.

The realization slowly dawned: I must be dead. But if this is what lies beyond… maybe it isn’t so bad.

He picked up a hammer, testing its weight in his hand. Perfectly balanced. He placed a bar of glowing metal on the anvil and struck it, the familiar ring of steel resonating through the chamber. Each strike was precise, effortless. This was a world without pain, without struggle—just the pure satisfaction of creation.

Maybe… maybe I’ll stay here.

Time lost its grip as Darius lost himself in the rhythm of the forge. He felt peace for the first time in what felt like ages, his mind drifting into a serene calm. But that peace was disrupted when he heard a familiar voice.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Darius froze mid-strike, his breath catching. Slowly, he turned to see Marcus standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face.

The hammer slipped from Darius’s hand, clattering onto the stone floor. “Marcus… You’re here?”

Marcus nodded, stepping into the forge. “Yeah, I’m here.” There was a warmth in his voice, but beneath it was something else—something bittersweet.

“Does this mean…?” Darius’s voice wavered as the realization struck him. “You’re dead.”

A shadow passed over Marcus’s face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Darius’s heart twisted in his chest. “Then I must be dead too.”

Marcus shook his head gently. “Not quite. You’re at a crossroads, my friend. But this isn’t where you’re meant to stay.”

“But look at this place.” Darius gestured around the forge. “It’s perfect, Marcus. No more fighting, no more pain—just the forge, just the work. I could stay here forever.”

“And you’d be happy, I’m sure,” Marcus agreed, his voice soft. “But you’re not done yet, Darius. There are people out there who still need you.”

Darius’s eyes clouded with confusion. “Who?”

“The boy, for one,” Marcus said, his tone firm and steady. “Tyler needs you. Big things are coming his way—challenges that will define the future of the world itself. With the good, there will be hardships that could break him. Without you and the others, Darius. Everything he’s meant to become could be lost.”

Darius’s heart sank. “I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.”

Marcus’s smile grew sad, but there was a fire in his eyes. “You’ve always had more fight in you than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re not done. You’re stronger than this, and you know it.”

Darius clenched his fists, torn between the peace of the forge and the call of duty. “But it’s so hard, Marcus. I’m tired.”

“I know you are,” Marcus said gently. “But that’s exactly why you can’t give up now. You’ve fought through worse, and you’ve always come out on top. The world hasn’t beaten you yet.”

Marcus walked over to a workbench and picked up a hammer of his own. As he did, he began to hum—a tune that Darius knew all too well.

“Na-na-na… Thunder… na-na-na, thunder…”

The melody sent a shiver down Darius’s spine. It was their anthem; the song Tyler had blasted from his Walkman before their fight in the colosseum. The memory of it stirred something deep within him.

Marcus hummed the song, the sound barely above a whisper, but they echoed in the forge, resonating like the ring of a hammer on steel. He continued humming, the tune filling the space with a sense of defiance and strength.

Darius felt a spark reignite in his chest, a stubborn refusal to let go. “I don’t want to leave you here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Marcus’s eyes softened. “I’m where I need to be now, Darius. But you’re not done. The world still needs you. Tyler still needs you. Go back and fight. Don’t let this be the end.”

The hum of the song grew louder, filling Darius’s mind, pushing away the peace of the forge with a rising, relentless energy. He could feel himself being pulled back, the warmth of the forge giving way to the cold bite of reality. The perfect forge began to fade as Marcus’s voice echoed one last time: “You’ve got this.”

The music surged, reverberating through Darius’s veins. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself back on the battlefield. “It’s the boy,” he realized, feeling an ocean of his friend’s mana pulsing through him. Healing energy coursed through his veins, reversing the damage. Slowly, Darius pushed himself to his feet, strength flooding back into his limbs, every fibre of his being thrumming with power.

The music was deafening now, the song thrumming in his chest. “Thunderstruck…” The rhythm pulsed in perfect harmony with his heartbeat. Darius gritted his teeth as the riff filled his mind, infusing him with power. Was it Marcus, reaching out from whatever realm he’d gone to? He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The song drove him, propelling him upward.

With a snarl, Darius activated the gravitic rune on his hammer, launching himself into the air like a glowing comet. Below him, chaos reigned, but his gaze locked onto one target: the giant who had struck him down. For a moment he hung there like a shining star as his mana shield pulsed around him just soaking in the fact that he could fly. Looking down, the brute was still roaring, obliterating combatants, oblivious to the retribution descending upon him.

Darius’s grip tightened around the haft of his hammer as he leveled it at the hulking giant below. He channeled every ounce of mana he had left into the weapon, feeling it surge and crackle with raw energy. The runes along the hammer’s surface flared to life, glowing with a fierce intensity. With a determined snarl, he activated the gravitic rune on his shield, inverting gravity and launching himself downward like a living projectile.

The wind howled in his ears as he rocketed toward the giant, a glowing blur streaking down from the heavens. As he closed in, Darius poured even more power into his hammer, increasing its weight until it was like a star collapsing under its own mass. The weapon became a force of nature, the gravity around it distorting as he descended.

The giant’s head snapped up just in time to see death coming for him, surprise flickering in his eyes. But it was too late—there was no escape from the blow that was about to land.

The impact was cataclysmic.

Darius’s hammer struck with a bone-shattering crunch, smashing through armor, flesh, and bone in a single, devastating strike. The ground buckled beneath the force, fissures spiderwebbing outward as shockwaves tore through the earth. The giant’s body crumpled under the blow, collapsing into a twisted heap, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the sky. The sheer force of the impact was so immense that if it weren’t for the protective barrier of his mana shield, Darius knew he would have been reduced to nothing but shattered bones and pulp himself.

For a moment, the battlefield fell into stunned silence, the echoes of the strike reverberating across the wasteland. Dust and debris hung in the air, drifting down like ash as the last vestiges of the giant’s strength ebbed away.

Darius straightened, his chest heaving with exertion, the weight of his hammer still crackling with residual energy. The once-mighty giant lay broken at his feet—a testament to unstoppable force meeting immovable resolve.

All eyes turned to the wreckage of the once-mighty giant. The echoes of the song still pounded in Darius’s ears as he stood, war hammer raised, a storm personified. Fear rippled through the ranks, challengers scattering in panic, scrambling to escape. Some vanished in flashes of light, others clawed at runes in vain, trapped.

Darius took a deep breath, the echoes of “Thunderstruck” still vibrating within him. He had one goal: find Tyler, Livia, and the others. He scanned the battlefield one last time, then looked upward.

The massive ring encircling the world loomed above, each section a different terrain—forests, mountains, deserts—all part of the impossible structure. They’re out there, he thought, determination flaring anew. And I’m going to find them.

With renewed resolve, Darius activated the gravitic rune, reversing gravity. He soared above the battlefield, leaving the chaos behind as he set off in search of his friends.