Fate of the Marked

Worldbreaker

A blinding light erupted from the sky, streaking like a vengeful comet across the battlefield. Its searing heat hit me even before I could react, forcing me to stumble back. The air around me ignited with a blistering wave of fire, making it impossible to breathe.

My instincts flared, and with the last dregs of my mana, I slammed my staff into the ground, conjuring a protective dome spell around myself. The shimmering barrier materialized just as the comet crashed, engulfing the world in an earth-shattering explosion of fire and raw power.

The shockwave roared like an angry god, scorching everything in its path. Flames spiraled outward in a furious maelstrom, swallowing the cracked earth in a blazing inferno. The ground ruptured, tearing apart into a deep, smoking trench as if the very world split open in protest.

Astoroth was launched backward, his monstrous form spiraling through the air like a broken puppet before crashing into the distant ruins, leaving a jagged, gaping scar on the battlefield.

My ears rang, my vision blurred, and the heat still pressed against my protective shield, threatening to melt it entirely. When the blast finally subsided, all that remained was a scorched wasteland, still smoldering and glowing with fading embers.

And where Astoroth once stood, there was someone else.

Through the swirling smoke and dying flames, a figure emerged—taller and broader than the boy I remembered, his shoulders squared with an unmistakable strength. His burning eyes reflected the very fire that had shattered the ground.

Kael.

His fists still smoldered with trailing embers, his stance as solid as the earth he'd torn asunder. The heatwaves rippled around him like a living aura, and in that moment...

He looked every bit the unstoppable force that had just fallen from the heavens.

"I'm cool, right?" he asked, his voice deeper now, rougher—but still unmistakably Kael. His long, wind-tossed hair framed his face, and there it was—a ridiculous attempt at a mustache that did absolutely nothing for his boyish features. He looked like a teenager trying to be taken seriously at a tavern. I almost laughed. Almost.

"You grew a mustache," I said flatly.

He smirked wider. "You like it?"

I shook my head. "Not even a little."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his longer hair. "Figured as much." His stance shifted, his presence radiating something... different. Gone was the brash, reckless boy who once threw himself headfirst into danger with nothing but raw speed and stubborn determination. What stood before me now was something far more composed—controlled.

"I learned a lot from our goodbye, Thalia," he said, his tone softening for a moment. "I figured out how to control and explode my Chi flow... not just let it loose like before." His hands sparked faintly as if the very air couldn't contain his energy.

His gaze met mine—steady, confident, and far too mature for the young man I remembered. How long had it been? Half a year? It felt like a lifetime. Did kids these days just... grow up this fast?

"So, you're not just the thunder boy I knew before?" I asked, my chest tightening with a mixture of relief and dread. He shouldn't be here. Not in this cursed battlefield. He had so much left to live for if this all went wrong...

But his Chi pulsed around him, fierce and untamed but somehow balanced. He could handle himself now.

"So far," he said, raising both hands, flames flickering in one and electric sparks dancing across the other, "I've mastered two types of Chi flow—Thunder and Fire. Turns out... they work really well together."