MICHAEL
The throne hall is a grave.
Charred pillars lean like broken limbs. The floor's scorched, cracked, scattered with shattered gold. Smoke curls through fractured windows. The only sound in this hall is the clink of our chains as the guards shove us in — Charlotte, Emma and me.
We stop cold.
"Oh my God." Emma utters, glancing round.
"We're too late.... Is he dead?" Charlotte asked
The guards rush to the aid of Neverland's King as he lies motionless at the foot of the throne. One hand twitching. The other outstretched. Reaching for it—
"No, he's not." Emma replies, turns to her
"Unbelievable. So the helmet is real?" I ask myself
The ancient and alive head protector hovers inches above the ground. Humming with cosmic breath.
And beside us and the artifact—
A portal materializes. From it, emerge an unarmed and unflinching stranger.
He stands like a monument built for war—broad, immovable, every contour of his frame shaped by power. His skin, a dark alloy-grey, gives off a muted sheen beneath armor designed not for ceremony, but for combat.
The suit is engineered red alloy with molten-gold circuit lines curling across the chest like stylized flame—equal parts functionality and intimidation. It moves with him, second-skin tight, reinforced at the joints for maximum agility and protection.
Heavy boots, plated to the knee, brace his stance. His gauntlets hum faintly, as if waiting for a command. A full-face helmet—sleek, angular, with deep-set optics—conceals everything but his stare: two slits of glowing red light, locked on the relic, unwavering.
Guns click into position all around us. The guards—ten of them—aim their rifles at the stranger standing at the far end of the chamber. Their hands are steady, but I can hear the tension in their breathing.
The stranger doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink.
"Hello, little ones…" he says, voice low and slow, like a growl wrapped in velvet. Then he takes a few steps toward us, calm as a god walking through smoke.
"Freeze!" one of the guards barks. "Take one more step and you'll be dead."
The strange man smiles. It's not a friendly smile. "We haven't officially met," he says. "I'm Erebus… the true Emperor of Gavaria."
He takes two more steps forward.
The guards instinctively pull back, just half a step—but they don't lower their weapons.
"One of the most powerful kingdoms in the multiverse," Erebus continues, pacing slowly, deliberately. "A kingdom you were never meant to cross."
"We know who you are," Charlotte says beside me, her voice sharp and steady. She doesn't blink.
Erebus raises a brow, amused. "Do you now?" He tilts his head slightly, scanning our faces. Then his eyes land on me. "Wait… You're Christian's best friend, aren't you?"
Charlotte doesn't flinch. "He knows who you are."
"Wrong," Erebus replies, taking another step. "I know who you all are. Your lives. Your pasts. Your failures. Your destinies. I know Christian. I know you, Michael—the desperate genius who nearly tore himself apart building the Cyclotron. I know how you all struggled just to defeat your first villain."
Emma steps forward, chin high. "What do you know about Chase?"
Erebus chuckles. "Ah, Bloodlust. A genius who gave up everything the moment he lost his purpose. I know he failed himself long before he ever failed you. And yet…" His smile widens. "Every time you fought him, he won. Over and over. You call yourselves heroes, but one man—just one—kept defeating you. Isn't that a little… pathetic?"
"Nice try, Emperor," I say, my voice firm. "We've heard the stories. How you destroyed entire planets just to steal power that was never yours. You and your master might be gods in your own eyes—but today, the Marvel Five are here to end this."
Erebus's chuckle turns cold. "With cuffs on your wrist ankles?" He walks toward us now, slow and deliberate, the smile fading into something darker. "Tell me, if you found it difficult to defeat Bloodlust… what makes you think you can stand against me?"
I step forward. The cuffs around my wrists hum softly with energy, but I don't care.
"Don't push me, Erebus," I say quietly. "You really won't like how this ends."
He stops, eyes burning into mine. Then that malicious smile creeps back onto his face.
"Trust me," he says. "I will."
I clench my fists. Heat rises in my chest like a dam cracking. My cuffs hiss, buckle—
Melt.
Then I'm off the ground, fists blazing, jetting forward like a missile.
I twist mid-air, fist cocked, flame trailing behind me—
CRACK.
My punch connects square with his jaw.
His head jerks. Slowly.
He turns back to me. Smiling.
Then his fist thuds into my chest.
BOOM.
The world shatters. I rocket backward, plowing through a column. Stone explodes. I slam into the floor, coughing blood, shoulder dislocated.
Air whistles above.
Charlotte rises into the smoke-filled rafters. Her cloak whips behind her. Eyes like stars. Hands crackling with voltage. Wind coils at her heels.
Her voice echoes like thunder:
"Get. Over. Here!"
She plunges like a falling god—both fists wrapped in blinding lightning.
She crashes into Erebus's chest like a meteor.
The hall explodes.
Shockwaves tear through the stone. Light blinds the room. Debris flies.
For one glorious second—it looks like she broke him.
Then the smoke clears.
He's still standing.
Unmoved.
Unimpressed.
He reaches out—
One hand.
Clamps around her throat.
Mid-air.
She thrashes, lightning sparking from her skin, bolts lashing out wildly—
But Erebus absorbs it.
His armor glows faintly where she struck.
The strikes burn into him—he grits his teeth, the pain undeniable, but he holds steady.
Then—
SLAM!
He drives her into the ground like a hammer. The marble shatters in a crater beneath her. The shock breaks nearby pillars. The wind stops. Her limbs go slack.
She doesn't rise.
Then—
A blur zips past him.
Emma.
She moves like lightning wrapped in silk—barely touching the ground, weaving between smoking rubble. Her body tilts low, arms pumping, hair flaring behind like a comet's tail. Her eyes are locked on the helmet. Nothing else matters.
Ten feet.
Five.
She's almost there.
Erebus doesn't even turn.
Snap.
He flicks two fingers.
Reality folds.
Air convulses. Emma's path fractures like glass—space bends, rebounds, and slams her backward as if the world itself rejected her. She crashes into a wall with bone-jarring force, leaving a crater. Her body drops to the floor, twitching, steam rising from her boots.
But she gets up.
Slowly. Shakily. Blood running from her mouth.
She dashes again.
This time, she feints left—appears right.
A blur of movement—faster than thought. She hammers three strikes to Erebus's ribs, spins low, and uppercuts his chin with both fists.
Boom.
His head jerks.
A grunt escapes him—he felt that.
She vanishes—reappears behind.
Two sharp jabs to his spine.
Vibrations ripple through the strikes, distorting the air, sending tremors deep into his armor.
Erebus stiffens, jaw clenched—pain clearly registering now.
A blur of kicks, elbows, dodges—a masterclass of motion. She's not trying to overpower him. She's trying to outmaneuver, unbalance, unravel.
For a moment, Erebus stumbles.
His steps falter as the lingering vibrations hum through his body.
But only for a moment.
He grabs her ankle mid-flip.
SLAM.
He swings her like a wrecking chain into the floor. Once. Twice.
The third time she recovers mid-air—blazing forward with a scream, eyes bright with rage. Her punch cracks like a cannon—
a deep vibration coating her fist.
But he stops it. Barehanded.
Then punches once.
BOOM.
She folds around the hit, flies back into a shattered pillar, limp.
I exhale once.
Then I strike.
Flames burst from both of my palms—violent, unrelenting. I hurl them toward Erebus like missiles.
But he moves.
Too fast.
The fire crashes into the floor behind him—BOOM—blasting stone apart, hurling debris into the air, swallowing us both in thick smoke.
"Is that your best shot, weakling?" Erebus' voice cuts through the haze like a blade. Loud. Mocking. Sharp.
I walk through the smoke, shoulders squared, heart pounding in my chest like a war drum.
He's waiting for me now, standing tall, his body relaxed—but his eyes say otherwise. They're locked on me. Focused. Ready.
"No, Emperor," I say, lowering into my stance, fire still dancing in my veins. "I'm just getting started."
Without warning, I twist my left leg into a wide kick, fire trailing from my heel, then blast another torrent from both palms—left, right, again. Flames tear through the air.
He blocks with his forearms. His skin barely flinches.
Then he conjures something I can't see—an invisible shield. My last blast hits it, and a shockwave rocks the hall.
"Not impressed, human," he growls. "Why don't you try something else?"
I steady my breath.
"Alright then," I mutter. "I'll give you something else."
"Bring it on, boy."
His left arm ignites, glowing a deep violet. Veins surge with energy, pulsing unnaturally bright. With a grunt, he launches a blast of pure power from his fist.
I dive.
The energy tears past me, burning a molten groove into the marble.
No time to breathe.
His right arm lights up the same way, and another blast screams through the air. I spin and roll—narrow escape again.
I counter—swinging my right arm, hurling fire. It screams across the space.
Erebus ducks, sweeping his leg low, and sends another violent energy wave across the ground—aiming for my legs.
The floor beneath it detonates, cracks spider-webbing in all directions.
I leap high, fire blasting from my feet, flipping over him and landing just behind.
He pivots.
Another energy burst erupts toward me.
I brace with my left arm—the impact is brutal. Pain rips up my shoulder, and I stagger, my vision swimming.
I fight through the agony and fire back with my right hand, but Erebus weaves away. Effortless.
Then he lashes out—a blast from his left foot, red and concussive.
I launch myself into the air, spinning mid-flight, fire surging from my feet. I land behind him—barely.
I retaliate—fire bursts from my foot mid-kick—but he's gone again.
Suddenly—WHAM!—a crushing kick slams into the side of my left leg.
Before I react, his backhand cracks across my face.
My head jerks. Blood sprays from my mouth and nose. Stone splinters beneath me.
I turn toward him, dazed—but he's already there.
He grabs my arm and hurls me across the throne room.
My body smashes into rubble, rolls over jagged rock and broken wall. My back explodes with pain.
My breath is gone. Everything screams. But I push myself up.
I snarl and raise both hands, fire roaring from my chest.
I hit him.
The blast slams into his torso, and Erebus flies backward, smashing into the floor. Debris shoots in every direction.
Still burning, I dash forward with a roar.
"AAARGHH!!"
Rage floods me. Fire coils around my arms. My fists hammer forward, trailing flame.
Erebus dances through the onslaught—calm, untouchable. Not a single blow lands.
I channel the fire to my fingertips—claws form, sharp and blazing—and strike with fury. Slashes. Hooks. Elbows. Precision.
He blocks them all. Dodges. Spins.
Nothing connects.
"What's wrong?" he grins, sidestepping my next strike. "Tired already?"
I grit my teeth and launch into a triple flying kick—each one powered by fire from my feet, burning the space between us.
He raises his arms and covers his face—the blast pushes him back. He skids across the fractured floor, boots carving into the marble.
I'm on him again, fire claws slashing.
Still—he dodges. Effortless. Smooth. Like he's sparring, not fighting.
I launch into a roundhouse kick, fire screaming from my foot.
He ducks—and his claws rake across my forehead.
My vision explodes in red.
Blood pours down my face.
I scream. I charge. Again and again, I slash with everything I have.
Nothing.
Each step, each swing, brings me closer—but Erebus never gives me the chance. His body weaves like a ghost.
Then I miss.
My foot slides too far—my guard drops.
And he strikes.
A red blast smashes into my stomach—point-blank.
The pain is instant. White-hot. My knees collapse, my breath vanishes.
I stagger back, clutching my gut, trying to breathe, trying not to fall.
But I refuse to stop.
I sprint back, fire claws igniting again, and attack.
He blocks. Grabs my left wrist. Twists.
Pain floods my shoulder.
Then—he looks into my eyes.
And he smiles.
No words. No movement. Just that twisted smile.
Then—he drives his glowing fist into my gut and lets the full force of his energy erupt.
Everything goes white.
The explosion lifts me from the ground and hurls me backward like a ragdoll.
I crash into the wall—stone splits, dust fills my mouth. My back slams hard into the rubble and I fall into the broken ground below.
I can't move.
Not yet.
CHARLOTTE
Smoke coils from the rubble. Heat sticks to the air like oil. The throne is gone—crushed beneath stone and blood.
Michael lies broken in the wreckage.
And Erebus walks through the collapsing arch, untouched by falling stone.
I hover above the fractured hall, wind snarling around me. My hair whips wildly. Clouds churn overhead, drawn by my fury.
The air tastes like ash.
My fingers tingle. My veins scream. I gather every ounce of breath into one roar.
"You will surely pay for this!"
The wind howls at my command as I launch myself downward—arms wide, lightning coiled around my fists.
I hit him like a hammer from the heavens.
BOOM!
The impact caves the floor inward. Dust shoots up in a tidal wave. Thunder shatters the glass windows in the outer wings of the palace.
But before I can follow through—
His hand grips my throat.
Mid-air.
CRACK!
"Is that all you got, Miss?" he asked.
He drives me into the stone floor, and it splits beneath my back like a spiderweb.
A crater blooms around me. Shards of marble bite into my skin.
My breath stutters.
But I don't stay down.
I let the storm take me.
Wind lashes out as I twist my body and kick upward—a blast of compressed air bursting from my heel. He shifts, absorbing it, skidding back just a step—but his boots leave cracks in the ground where he lands.
I flip up, my body spinning with cyclone force, and launch three bolts in rapid succession. They light the ruins in white-red flashes.
He walks through the lightning.
Unbothered.
Or almost.
A twitch at his jaw. His shoulder jolts slightly on the third hit, as if something cracks beneath his skin. Smoke curls from his armor. For a second—just a second—his eye narrows.
And then he moves.
Faster than thought.
A punch to my ribs. My body folds. My feet leave the ground.
I'm launched across the hall—through a pillar—through a second wall—into the gardens outside.
Stone statues crack and collapse. Fountains shatter. The wind spirals out, tossing debris across the palace grounds. Trees bend violently. Birds scatter in every direction.
I cough. Blood. Can't feel my left side.
He steps out of the ruin behind me—silent, unstoppable.
I rise anyway.
Lightning surges from the skies—through me—into my fists.
I scream and drive myself toward him, every strike an explosion, every movement trained, lethal.
Left elbow to his jaw. Knee to his gut. Spin—hook his leg—slam him down.
The ground shakes with each hit. Dust swallows the gardens.
But he catches my next strike—
And turns the air inside out.
Suddenly gravity vanishes beneath me. The sky twists. I fall sideways into space that shouldn't exist. The palace stretches and warps like a mirage, folding in on itself.
I twist midair, flipping through the distortion, and roar—lightning bursting from my chest, blasting the air back to normal.
He's waiting.
His next hit feels like it tears reality open.
My body folds again. A pressure wave blasts me across the garden—through trees, into stone.
The outer gates of the palace shake.
Statues fall. The earth cracks in jagged lines spreading toward the city.
I land on my feet, sliding, barely conscious.
But I don't stop.
I let the storm flood me—lightning arcing through my veins, my eyes blind with white fury.
I fly forward, surrounded by spinning blades of wind, and strike like a god.
I rain down hits—ten, twenty, more—so fast the air rips behind every blow. The force sends shockwaves down the palace steps. Columns collapse. Birds drop from the sky.
He stumbles back a step. Just one.
But it's enough.
I twist, leap, bring both fists down on his back with the strength of a hurricane.
The ground splits open.
We crash into the crater—dust and rock erupting upward.
He vanishes into the smoke.
I hover there, gasping, chest heaving, sparks dancing across my skin.
Then—he walks out of the crater.
Not limping. Not broken.
But slower. His shoulders rise unevenly. A fine tremble dances across his fingers—burnt skin around the knuckles crackling, flaking away like scorched bark.
Something in the air bends around him—heat, gravity, pressure. As if the world itself yields to him.
I feel the weight before I feel the pain.
His hand lifts toward me—
And the pressure in the air deepens. My lungs crush. The sky darkens.
I drop from the air like a broken thing.
The storm breaks apart.
I hit the ground hard.
Vision swimming.
Thunder fades into silence.
My fingers twitch—reaching—
I see Michael, crawling toward his helmet, blood painting his fingers.
And Erebus steps over it, like it's meaningless.
He kneels. Picks it up slowly, reverently. Turns it in his hands.
And then—
The air screams.
A rip appears behind him. Burning. Black. Wrong.
Two figures step through:
One—carving the air with a curved blade that hums.
The other—a walking storm of metal and menace.
They step onto this ruined earth like it belongs to them.
I try to rise.
My legs fail.
Erebus tucks the helmet beneath his arm. Turns to us—not with triumph.
But with judgment.
He glances at me—battered, broken, sparking with fading storm—and says, almost to himself:
"Fierce."
And then they vanish.
The rip closes with a boom that sends another shockwave across the ruined city block.
Statues fall.
Glass shatters.
The dust takes the sky.
And all I know—
Is silence.
EREBUS
The portal hums with quiet thunder as it collapses behind us, its swirling energy fading into silence. Agrona, Jabez, and I step forward into the polished marble of King Goliath's corridor—his throne not carved of stone, but of skyline and power. Jabez grips the Fortune Helmet tightly, reverently, like a man clutching prophecy.
We stand few steps away, just behind Goliath, our silhouettes framed by the gold-lined spires beyond the glass. He says nothing. Only raises one hand, fingers spread slightly, like he's conducting the horizon itself.
The corridor stretches wide and high, sleek obsidian floors reflecting our forms beneath our boots. Golden beams rise like sunstruck ribs across the walls, their surface etched with runes too old for time yet still humming with quiet energy. The glass panels before us aren't just windows—they're declarations. Through them, the city unveils itself.
Skyscrapers gleam like blades dipped in light. The one directly ahead—the Citadel Spire—pierces the heavens with elegant defiance. It rises in bold gold, its crown shaped like interlocked wings, regal and deliberate. To its right, twin towers of chrome twist subtly, catching the morning sun in a dance of reflection. The streets below look carved by precision, flowing with silent speed and purpose. This isn't just a city—it's a statement.
We kneel — Agrona to my right, Jabez to my left — heads bowed low in reverence. I glance up briefly. The helmet. The city. The architecture. Everything here bears the signature of one man.
"My King," I say calmly, my voice respectful yet firm. "We return as requested. This time, with the Fortune Helmet in our possession."
King Goliath turns to us and steps forward, a trace of pride flashing in his eyes.
"Well hast thou done, Erebus. Even as thou ever hast."
Then, a shadow crosses his tone.
"But lo, a troubling report hath reached mine ears."
I lift my eyes to meet his, steady. "May I ask, what kind?"
He begins to walk, slow and deliberate, boots echoing against polished stone.
"My messengers spake unto me, saying thy servants hath failed to seize the Sorcerer's Amulet. Is this not a marvel? Beings of celestial strength brought low by mere mortals... and the offspring of a lesser god."
His voice is calm, but the weight behind it is heavier than steel.
"Wast it not thou who trained them?"
"I did, your highness," I reply. "But I've yet to receive word on how they were overcome."
He stops in front of Jabez. Without a word, Jabez rises, presents the Fortune Helmet in both hands.
Goliath takes it — gently, almost with affection — and smiles.
"Thou art faithful, Erebus. I have never doubted thee."
"I serve you with my life. Without you, I'd be nothing."
He nods, eyes sharp.
"Then go thou once more. Recover the Amulet, though it cost thee all."
He turns, the hem of his golden cloak sweeping the floor as he walks past us.
"May I ask," I say, rising to my feet and turning to face him, "where the humans are heading?"
He pauses, halfway through the arched doorway, then turns his head just enough for his voice to carry.
"Unto Gavaria — thy land. There shall the heroes descend. They shall find their kind, and they shall rise together. But thou must go, and take the Amulet ere they lay hands upon it."
"It will be done, your majesty."
He nods once, then adds without turning:
"Thy comrades shall not go with thee. Agrona and Jabez — ye shall descend unto Earth."
Jabez furrows his brow. "Earth has many lands, my King. Which country, if I may ask?"
Goliath raises a single finger as he vanishes into the corridor.
"Seek ye a land whose name beginneth with 'N' and endeth with 'A'. Are ye not supernatural? Then discern it."
The corridor swallows him whole. Silence lingers.
Agrona looks over at me. "How exactly do we figure that out, My Emperor?"
My gaze fixed on the empty hallway.
"Don't worry, warriors," I say with a small smile. "I know exactly where he's pointing us."
The End of Chapter 5.