Dark's Pre Crisis

Arc4- Training And Domination.

The air still felt heavy, even though Sukojo's presence was long gone. Dark stood amidst his allies, his crimson eyes reflecting frustration, anger, and a hint of fear. His hands trembled at his sides, clenching and unclenching as if trying to crush the lingering echoes of Sukojo's control.

Leona took a step forward, her voice cautious, almost hesitant.

Leona: Dark... Are you okay?

He didn't answer immediately. He stared down at his hands, the weight of his failure clawing at him. His mind raced, replaying every second of Sukojo's dominance over him. He felt weak. Useless. He finally spoke, his voice low and sharp.

Dark: I wasn't strong enough. He took over... and I couldn't stop him.

Gilmuar crossed his arms, his voice steady but grim.

Gilmuar: None of us could've stopped him. Sukojo isn't just a problem you fight head-on. He's a goddamn nightmare. You're lucky we're even standing here.

Leona's frustration flared as she turned to face Gilmuar.

Leona: That doesn't mean we just roll over and let him win! We need a plan—something, anything—because this can't happen again.

Cron, standing a little farther back, spoke quietly, his golden aura flickering faintly.

Cron: She's right. Sukojo isn't invincible. He's chaos, but chaos can be fought... if we're ready.

Dark let out a bitter laugh and turned to Cron, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dark: Fought? You've fought him before, right? You barely survived. So tell me, Cron. How do we fight someone who doesn't even care if we exist?

Cron's jaw tightened, his aura briefly surging before he forced himself to stay calm.

Cron: (quietly) That was a long time ago. Things are different now.

Dark: (snapping) Are they? Because it sure doesn't feel like it.

The group fell silent, the weight of Dark's words settling over them like a storm cloud. Before anyone could respond, the air shifted violently. Time itself seemed to stutter, freezing for a fraction of a second before resuming in an almost imperceptible loop. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, and a strange hum echoed through the wasteland. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to make every hair on their bodies stand on end.

Leona's hand instinctively went to her weapon, her eyes scanning the horizon.

Leona: What the hell is this?

Cron's voice was low, his expression dark.

Cron: It's him.

The hum grew louder, and then he appeared. It wasn't dramatic, no blinding light or deafening noise. Sojo simply stepped into existence as if he had always been there, his calm smile as disarming as it was familiar. His simple, flowing robes shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made them seem alive.

Sojo: Long time no see, everyone.

Leona visibly relaxed, lowering her weapon but keeping her sharp tone.

Leona: Took you long enough. What, saving another verse?

Sojo chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to Dark. His expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, perhaps.

Sojo: Something like that. But I heard about your little... situation. Thought I'd drop in before things got worse.

Dark's expression hardened as he stepped forward, the weight of his frustration and anger channeling into his voice.