Dreadixz roared in fury, his massive frame colliding again and again with the enormous boulder that sealed the cave's exit. Each impact echoed like thunder, but the stone didn't budge.
"You're wasting your strength," Incarceration said, his voice cold and unhurried as his claw scraped along the cave walls, the sound like nails across bone. "All you're doing is feeding your own frustration."
Outside, the violent ice storm had begun to fade. The howl of wind lessened, and visibility opened just enough for a few battered Lunaranite soldiers to navigate their way back into the cave. They flanked Dreadixz and Incarceration, bruised and bloodied but obedient.
Dreadixz backed away from the boulder, eyes burning with humiliation. He turned slowly, his talons clicking against the icy stone. "If you think it's easy, why don't you give it a try?" he growled.
Incarceration stopped scraping and looked at him with narrowed crimson eyes. He raised a hand, and a sphere of darkness formed between his thumb and index finger—pure, compact, and unstable.
With a breath, he sent it flying. The orb smashed into the boulder and detonated with a blast of void energy. The stone exploded into fragments, the shockwave pressing the cold cave air into a momentary silence.
Incarceration turned to Dreadixz with a slow, smug smile. "That's why they call me the mastermind."
Sunlight broke through the breach, casting golden rays across the cold floor. In the distance, the mechanical clangs and hydraulic hisses of Mechamio began to echo.
Dreadixz spread his wings with a frustrated sigh. "So, tell me the plan again."
"I'm not repeating myself," Incarceration snapped. "What matters is that Don's mind is cracking. The nightmare worked. Physically, he's a threat. But emotionally? He's crumbling."
He paced slowly, talons tapping with purpose. "Violence won't derail the prophecy. Emotion will. Fear. Doubt. Regret. Break his confidence and the prophecy unravels itself."
Dreadixz narrowed his eyes. "You think he'll just flip sides because of a few mind tricks?"
"He's unstable," Incarceration replied, "Powerful, yes—but unstable. Ever since he left Insane Middle School and trained with Power, he's been building strength with no emotional foundation. We don't need to beat him. We need to twist him. Then he joins us."
He smiled darkly. "And if he doesn't... I have other ways to break him."
At Mechamio:
"KAYSON?! KAYSON?! DUDE, STOP WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING, KAYSON!" I yelled, my voice slicing through the chaos like a knife through butter. Around me, the crowd's screams and frantic shouts echoed everywhere—people running, panicking, eyes wide like saucers.
The ground trembled violently. The stone monster—Kayson's massive beast form—let out a deafening roar that shook the entire city of Mechamio to its core. Dust and rubble rattled from the shaking buildings. Its enormous claw-like fist started descending toward us, a crushing nightmare looming over the fragile bridge I was still hanging from, chains biting into my hands.
Okay, Don, think fast. My brain raced. This dude's about to smash the bridge into oblivion. If it collapses, we're all toast. Yeah, no pressure.
"WE GOTTA GET DOWN!" Prince shouted, clutching the rails with a death grip as the bridge shuddered beneath us. Then—bam!—it hit me: Angel's powers!
I hollered over the roar of destruction and the shrieks of terrified citizens, "Angel! Use your Portal Element! Get us down to safety, now!"
Angel gave me a quick, steady nod, his grip tightening one last time before he let go. The moment he dropped from the bridge's railing, his hands started weaving through the air, and suddenly a shimmering, swirling portal blinked open beneath him.
Below us, the city was a frantic mess—people sprinting in every direction, dodging debris and each other in sheer panic.
One by one, the rest of us let go and fell through Angel's portal, the wind whipping past as the bridge groaned and cracked behind us.
We landed hard but safe on the crowded ground of Mechamio, swallowed by a sea of panicked citizens—probably a million people, all staring upward, wide-eyed and frozen by fear.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead, letting out a shaky breath. "Oh thank God we survived…"
But just when I thought the nightmare was over, Kayson wasn't done.
You see, Kayson is a 12-year-old dude who's... well, let's say he's built like a tank—and not just because he loves to eat anything and everything. No, this guy is a Stone Mover, a beast with the Size Element that lets him grow and shrink at will. Dude's max size? About as big as the freaking Eiffel Tower.
I know Kayson from Insane Middle School—yeah, that chaotic hellhole. The dude's basically a walking mountain with a bottomless stomach. His stone monster form? Gigantic and scary as hell. And the way he eats? Brutal.
He bellowed another monstrous roar, shaking the eardrums of everyone in Mechamio. Some poor folks even started bleeding from their ears—no joke.
Without warning, Kayson ripped a huge, narrow chunk straight from the bridge. The sound of metal tearing filled the air—screeching, grinding, the kind of noise that makes your skin crawl. Then, he sank his massive teeth into the piece and started chomping like a beast savoring a rare delicacy.
He chomped. He munched. He devoured that chunk like it was the best meal he'd had in years.
And get this—I still don't get why Kayson is here in Mechamio. He's supposed to be chilling in the Rufty Mountains, the homeland of most Stone Movers. But nope, here he is, casually demolishing infrastructure like it's snack time.
"Mph! This is amazing! Can't wait until they rebuild this again in a few years!" Kayson said, his voice deep and thunderous, echoing across the chaos like a natural disaster.
People around us sighed in relief as the immediate panic faded and they went back to their business, ignoring the massive bridge-shaped snack in Kayson's mouth.
Then, as if flipping a switch, Kayson started shrinking—smaller and smaller—until he was about the size of a typical five-drawer nightstand.
Then—boom!—he jumped off the bridge from an insane height and landed with a ground-shaking thud that sent shockwaves rippling through the streets.
He trudged up to us, still chewing on the chunk of bridge like it was a hot dog, then shoved the remaining piece back into his mouth with a satisfied lick of his fingers.
"Artificially fantastic, I must say!" he said, grinning like a goof.
Now, here's a wild fact about Kayson: unlike the other Elementanites, he doesn't have normal skin. Nah, his entire body is pure stone—like a living statue carved from rock. Some folks might call him a golem, but he's not quite that simple. He was born a Stone Mover.
I crossed my arms, glaring at my stony friend. "Hey, Kayson, how was dinner?"
His huge grin only grew wider. "Oh, it was nice! Great to see you guys!"
"WE ALMOST DIED, YOU KNOW!" Demaurion exploded, launching a furious water ball at Kayson in pure frustration.
Kayson just laughed it off, unfazed. "Hey, sorry! I was just trying to get the bridge."
Then he tilted his head, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what are you guys doing here? Trying to catch the Avangard Battles?"
"Yeah, we're heading there," Olsen chimed in, "but only to find the next beast for Don to kill."
Kayson's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. "I'm going there too! Mind if I show you around Mechamio first?"
I shook my head firmly. "Nah, man. We're here to kill and go. No time for tours."
Sophia, with her usual sassy edge, cut in, "Let's just focus on getting to Gordiman's Bothole. Come on, idiots!"
Now, about King Gordiman—lemme just say it straight:
The dude's clueless.
Like, can't-find-his-own-crown clueless.
And yet? Somehow, he still wears a crown. Like a toddler who grabbed the grown-up's hat and refuses to take it off.
His so-called "army"? Yeah, they couldn't even hold a candle to the Blushinites. Yes, those Blushinites—the same folks from the Land of Hearts. The land where fighting isn't exactly a hobby. They're more about love and, well… feelings. Yet somehow, after a bit of training, they stomped the Mechanites. Which is wild, because Mechanites aren't exactly slackers; they're tinkerers, inventors, gear-heads, always fiddling with metal and steam-powered nonsense. So how did the "clueless" King Gordiman lose to a bunch of lovebirds with maybe two punches between them? Beats me.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky with this insane blood-orange fading into sapphire blue—like the world itself was hyped for what was about to go down. The city of Mechamio thrummed beneath our feet—the constant clank of gears turning, hiss of pistons pumping, steam puffing out of brass vents like a tired dragon exhaling.
Robots marched by, every movement crisp and almost too perfect, like they were mimicking humans but just a little off. Some humans lingered too, faces wary, eyes scanning for trouble. The whole place felt like a giant clockwork beast that never slept.
And then—bam—my mind went back to the worst question of all:
Should I kill my friends?
I know it's a messed-up question to even ask myself, but… should I really do it?
Incarceration's been storming through my mind like a hurricane—dragging up nightmares, twisting memories, forcing me to relive every awful moment like some broken record every time I close my eyes. Sometimes, I'm straight-up scared to sleep.
But damn, he's not wrong.
Some of them did laugh at me. Some mocked me, others never gave me a shred of respect. A bunch thought I was weak, or stupid. Yeah, he was right about all that.
But that was back then. Fifth grade.
Now? It's obvious—it was just their way of being weird, their messed-up way of trying to make friends.
But do I trust people like Anhia? Daysni? Heck, even Prince?
Maybe it wasn't just them. Maybe everyone was laughing.
Maybe everyone thought I was nothing—worthless.
Demaurion? Prince? Ryan? Sophia? Jocabed?
The list spins around in my head like a broken compass, pointing nowhere.
I'm running. Through memories, through pain, through every past tragedy that clutches my mind like a vice.
They won't let me go.
Every exit I try to find—every escape route I chase—it's like they vanish into thin air.
There's no escape.
It's still chasing me down, faster than I can run.
I'm sprinting through my own head like a maniac, heart pounding, screaming inside—
AHHHHHHHHH—
"Don? Are you alright?" Ella's voice sliced through the chaos.
I stopped dead, shaking my head to clear the fog.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm—fine…"
Her eyes didn't buy it—not for a second—but she didn't push. She just kept walking.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself forward.
I gotta keep telling myself—those laughs were just childish noise from fifth grade.
I'm twelve now. I can't be stuck holding onto grudges like some crybaby.
I need to man up. Keep moving.
"And we're here!" Kayson's voice snapped me back to the moment. We reached the arena—no, the arena. The Colosseum rose before us like a titan forged from steel and sweat. It was massive, more machine than stone, with ten rows of cold, unforgiving steel seats curving around a giant sandpit at the center—the battlefield.
King Gordiman sat high above, perched on a throne that looked like it was welded from gears and silver plates. Behind him, a complex machine of ticking cogs and spinning wheels hummed quietly. His robe wasn't fabric—it was mechanical, with shoulder plates that shifted and clanked softly as he moved. His cape was a cascade of steel mesh that caught the dying light and shimmered like liquid metal. Even his hair was crafted from flexible metal strands that glistened under the sky.
He stood up.
"WHO WANTS TO SEE THE CHOSEN ONES FIGHT?!" he bellowed, voice booming through the colosseum like a battle horn.
The stadium exploded in cheers.
Kayson's face went pale. "Wait... fight? We're fighting?!"
"Duh," Sophia rolled her eyes, folding her arms with that trademark sass. "Our beast might be here."
Gordiman raised his hand, silencing the crowd instantly.
"Let me introduce... our Crystallized Celestianite, Don—and his opponent... RYAN BUCKNER!"
The crowd went wild. Lost it.
"RYAN?!" I shouted before I could stop myself.
From beneath the sandpit, a massive metal dome shattered open with a clang, and a figure blasted upward like a rocket, landing with an earth-shattering boom that sent dust flying in every direction.
"RYAN! RYAN! RYAN!" the crowd chanted like it was a rock concert.
Ryan. Twelve years old. Gamer. Influencer. Obnoxiously cocky. The kind of kid who's always one step away from livestreaming his own ego.
He was decked out in mechanical armor layered with spinning gears that shifted constantly, arms transformed into giant drills, legs fitted with booster jets ready to launch. Dude looked like a walking Swiss Army knife designed for mayhem.
"COME AND GET IT, DON!" he roared, voice dripping with cocky bravado.
Celestial energy sparked and danced along my arms and flared behind my eyes like a cosmic wildfire. My fists clenched tight, a familiar heat rising in my chest.
The crowd fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Energy pulsed through the rings embedded in my wrists—alive, buzzing with power.
"Let the battles begin..." I whispered, stepping forward into the storm.