Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

03 | Define Strength

There's not much anyone can do when stuck in a situation like Veldora's. In the face of overwhelming odds, most would crumble. Panic would set in, survival instincts kicking into overdrive. You'd expect them to break down in surrender and plead for their lives, or run away and be chased like a rat in a secluded space that had no escape route.

But not Veldora.

The men in black cloaks froze for a moment, processing Veldora's arrogant declaration. Then, almost in unison, they broke into mocking laughter. Veldora smirked and crossed his arms, throwing his head back to join in.

"Kuahahahaha!"

Everyone was laughing—save, of course, the students, professors, and school personnel stuck and imprisoned in a barrier of their own. They just watched, confused and somewhat hopeful, of whatever was going to unfold. This strange man with his even stranger behavior had disrupted the oppressive atmosphere, and they clung to this unexpected turn of events like a lifeline.

But the man in red who sat in the flaming throne, was not so thrilled. Where did he come from? He—Draneeve, that was his name—asked himself as he stared at Veldora's rather odd appearance. His face was sharp and chiseled with perfection—almost too perfect to be human—and even if Draneeve himself was not from this continent, he was sure Veldora also wasn't.

I can't imagine my men having missed him in the campus, but he couldn't have gone through the barrier all by himself, right? His mind raced with thoughts and theories as he continued staring at Veldora. Before he knew it, his eyes were wide for reasons he didn't understand. Beads of sweat formed in his brows and dropped solemnly down his face.

Right?

As the laughter began to die down, Veldora's eyes locked with Draneeve's. For a moment, just a fleeting second, Draneeve could have sworn he saw something ancient and terrifying lurking behind those seemingly human eyes. A power that dwarfed his own, that made his flames feel like mere candles in comparison.

Veldora's smirk widened, as if he could read Draneeve's thoughts. He took a step forward, and silence descended upon the entire space. The men in black tensed, hands moving to their weapons. And Draneeve? He gripped the arms of his throne, knuckles white, as a single thought echoed in his mind:

What in the world have we stumbled upon?

~🐉~

It was entertaining to see them back away with just the intensity of my gaze, their hands trembling ever so slightly as they clenched their weapons and narrowed their eyes. I uncrossed my arms, making several of them visibly flinch and sending ripples of quiet anxiety through them. Oh, how quickly the tables can turn.

I relaxed my body and thrust my hand forward, palm open, toward the man sitting on that cool fire chair. And then I took a step. But that single, divine step brought me in front of the red-haired man instantly, energy crackling from my body in branches of black lightning.

My open palm gripped his head and effortlessly lifted him up from his fire throne, where he pompously sat before. He struggled against my grip, legs kicking wildly in mid-air, hands clawing at my arm. But it was futile. He is—no, they are—simply far too weak.

The man in black that stood beside the red-haired before took a step back and tripped, falling on his ass as he backpedaled away from me as quick as he can. I turned around, the red-hair still dangling in my hand as he tried to feel the ground. There were gasps and shouts from the men in black, but I responded in kind.

I thought of a storm—and by thinking it, I made it so.

Dark and ominous clouds materialized above us. Tendrils of black electricity danced within the clouds, occasionally reaching down to caress the ground with affectionate destruction.