[Chp. 13.2] Eruption of Judgment

“My lord…Voragoth.” Azareth voice deep and demonic, “Kingdom Nerathis, has been destroyed.” Azareth reported. Voragoth claps his hands “Good job. I’m surprised she pushed you to having to use your true form.” Voragoth said. “Yea well It has been a decade since I transformed into it though. Look why don’t we just end this entire war with me just using my Ultimate Move…wipe them all out in one blow.” Azereth said. “Let’s wait on that move, but free feel to have it be on standby.” Azareth raised his hands up in the air. “The end of this world... the end of all worlds... I summon forth the destruction of hell itself! Meteors of Hell—descend! Rain down like stars of wrath!” The sky began splitting open, rocks, size of trees, boulders, mountains, appeared in the sky, just sitting there ready to rain down on the entire planet. Azareth started to let meteors the size of small bushes rain down upon the land. Far beneath the surface of a dormant volcano lay the Kingdom of Valdros. More fortress than kingdom, its jagged walls were carved directly into volcanic rock, fortified to withstand war itself. It had stood untouched for centuries—until now. Days had passed since the fall of Nerathis, reduced to ruin by Azareth’s wrath. Now, meteors the size of small boulders—remnants of the Meteors of Hell—rained down upon Valdros like a divine punishment. “Everyone, take cover!” a voice shouted through the chaos. “Meteors are falling—don’t get hit!” A man jumped into the top of the volcano. “Shield of Morgana!” A radiant blue light erupted from his hands, surging into the sky. In an instant, a massive dome-shaped barrier expanded outward, enveloping the entire top of the volcano in shimmering energy. The falling meteors slammed into the shield with fiery force—only to dissolve into harmless sparks on contact. The man landed in the center of the fortress, right where the army had gathered. Dust and ash scattered around him as soldiers turned in awe. “It’s Tyr!” someone shouted. “King Balaris’s right-hand man!” Murmurs rippled through the crowd, fear and relief mixing in their voices as Tyr straightened, his aura pulsing with raw, divine energy. “Has the enemy c—” Before he could even continue, the shield at the top of the Volcano crack in all directions. Lighting scattered throughout the entire shield. “Heavens Wrath!” A destructive bolt of lightning broke through the shield, bits of pieces of the shield scattering throughout the entire volcano. That same bolt crashes down into the throne room. A wave of pressure surged outward from the lightning’s impact point. Servants were flung like leaves in a storm. Soldiers shielded their eyes as dust and debris clouded the chamber. Sparks of lightning danced across the crash site. “Shit…” Tyr muttered, voice rough with rage. In a flash, he teleported to the mysterious man, pressing his blade against his neck. "Nice blade you got there..." The man smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pinched the edge between two fingers—and snapped it in half like it was paper. Tyr staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief. “That... was a relic blade,” he growled, the broken hilt trembling in his hand. Rage and confusion twisted across his face. “Who the hell are you?” “The name is Draxon, Bolt of Judgment.” The air thickened, crackling with volatile energy as Draxon stood unwavering, his gaze icy and piercing. Tyr could feel the weight of the storm building around him, a pressure in the atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe. His legs were barely holding him, his vision fading at the edges as Draxon’s hand began to glow with violent energy, sending tremors through the ground. The lightning sparked to life—his fingers twisted, forming a jagged spiral of lightning that flickered with blinding intensity. This was no ordinary strike; this was Raizel Fang, but with the power to raze everything in its path. Tyr’s breath came in shallow, desperate gasps. His body felt detached, as if he wasn’t in control of his own movements anymore. He saw the electricity swirling in Draxon’s hand, and he knew what was coming—but there was no escape. The cold indifference in Draxon’s eyes said it all. Tyr had no hope. Draxon closed the distance in a heartbeat, his movements precise and relentless. Tyr tried to speak, but the words were lost in a gurgle of blood that spilled from his mouth. His limbs felt heavy, his heart racing in time with the slow realization of his fate. Draxon didn’t hesitate. His hand shot forward like a blade, piercing straight through Tyr’s chest. The shock of it split his ribs wide open, his bones breaking under the force, and Draxon’s palm drove deep, right into his heart. A sudden, high-pitched crackle filled the air, followed by the deafening roar of Raizel Fang detonating within Tyr. Lightning erupted through his body, tearing apart muscle, vein, and bone alike. It was a storm, a force of nature unleashed from within. The raw energy surged through him, scorching Tyr’s insides, burning away everything, it touched. His veins turned black, his organs cooked, and his bones splintered as though they were fragile glass under a hammer. Tyr’s body locked in place, muscles spasming violently, as he crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth in thick, gasping breaths. Draxon’s expression remained unchanged, cold as ever. He twisted his hand deeper, forcing the lightning to crawl further into Tyr’s body. The surge of power grew, expanding until Tyr’s body could take no more, reduced to a twitching, smoldering ruin. With a final, brutal yank, Draxon wrenched his hand free, leaving Tyr’s lifeless form crumpled in a heap. The blood spilled from his chest, sizzling where it met the air, a testament to the brutal force of the strike. Tyr’s vision blurred, his body limp, and in his last fading moments, the words that left his lips were filled with a deep, unwavering loyalty—despite the pain. “Run… my king...” King Balaris watched from the distance. His heart seemed to stop, as though the very breath had been sucked from his lungs. His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms. His gaze was locked on Tyr’s fallen form, blood seeping into the dirt, his once-strong body now a broken husk. A fire of rage ignited deep within Balaris, but there was no time for a roar of fury, no time for vengeance. The loss of his closest ally—his friend—sank into him like a dagger to the heart. He sprang to his feet and lunged at Draxon, throwing a punch aimed straight at his face. But his fist passed right through him, as though Draxon’s form was nothing but electricity. His hand sailed through the crackling energy with no resistance. Before he could react, Draxon seized his arm, effortlessly flinging him toward the wall. The impact sent him crashing through it, propelling him further out of the throne room. As he was sent hurtling through the air, he caught a glimpse of his army battling Draxon’s fierce lightning warriors, the sparks of battle lighting up the chaos around him. As the force of the throw ripped through the air, his cloak, symbolizing his title as king, was torn free, fluttering away like a discarded relic. Beneath it, his volcanic armor was revealed in all its terrifying glory. The armor clung tightly to his body, crafted from jagged, obsidian-black plates that seemed to shimmer with an inner heat. Lines of molten lava traced across the surface, glowing a fiery orange, as if the armor itself was alive with the power of an erupting volcano. Sharp, angular spikes protruded from the shoulders and forearms, their edges burning with searing light. The chestplate was designed to resemble the cracked surface of molten rock, with veins of bright, molten gold and red pulsing beneath the surface, like the heart of a dormant volcano threatening to awaken. A faint haze of smoke curled up from the back, and the heat radiating from the armor was palpable, distorting the air around him. It wasn’t just armor—it was a living force of nature, a reflection of the fiery power that surged within him. Each movement caused the armor to shimmer and crackle, as if the very earth and fire were at his command. He lands onto the ground successfully only to be confronted by Draxon appearing infront of him. “Nice armor you got there.” Draxon said. Balaris smirked, “Oh you should know something! I have something that can in fact hurt you!” Balaris said while jumping back, “Obsidian Veil…” His arms coats in black, a small feint of red aura glows around his arms. He lunges forward at him punching him straight into his face sending him flying. “Ow, That-“Before he finished Balaris made a giant fist of volcanic magma “Magma…. Fist!” His voiced echoed throughout the entire Volcano. The colossal fist of magma shot forward, trailing a storm of molten embers in its wake. As it collided with Draxon, the ground beneath them cracked and trembled, the very air igniting from the sheer heat. The magma fist contacted Draxon’s body with a violent crash, a wave of intense heat and pressure radiating outward from the point of impact. The molten rock scorched through the air, splattering in all directions as Draxon’s body was sent hurtling backward. His form flickered and crackled, but the force of the impact was undeniable. His body sizzled and sparked, the electricity around him momentarily flickering out as the magma seared through him. A guttural roar escaped his throat, but it was quickly drowned out by the thunderous explosion of lava and fire that engulfed him. Draxon was thrown against the rocky walls of the volcano with bone-shaking force, the impact leaving a crater in the stone. The heat radiating from the explosion burned the surroundings, the ground beneath his feet melting into pools of lava. For a moment, the battlefield fell silent, the aftermath of the eruption echoing through the volcano's core. The smoke cleared, and Draxon’s form, now scorched and battered, staggered to his feet, crackling with electrical fury. His body was smoking, with tendrils of darkened energy sparking and fizzing around his limbs, but the power of Balaris’ Magma Fist had left him visibly weakened. “Impressive,” Draxon growled, his voice laced with fury, as the last traces of magma sizzled off his form. In a crackle of lightning, Draxon vanished—only to reappear behind Balaris in a flash of blue light. Without hesitation, he drove his blade, Raizel Fang, straight through Balaris’ chest. The crackling weapon pierced clean through—but met no resistance. Draxon's eyes widened. “What the hell!?” The blade had passed through as if Balaris were smoke. Balaris let out a dark chuckle, his body beginning to solidify once more. “Did you think I wouldn’t adapt?” he said coldly. In one fluid motion, Balaris twisted around. His leg surged with blackened power, coated in the same dark obsidian energy as his arms—Obsidian Veil. The air rippled from the sheer pressure as he spun into a powerful back kick. The strike hit Draxon square in the chest with bone-crushing force. A shockwave erupted on impact, launching Draxon like a missile through the volcanic air, his body carving a fiery trail before slamming into a jagged rock wall. Lava hissed where he landed, and the cliffside cracked under the weight of the blow. Balaris lowered his leg, the obsidian slowly fading back into embers. “Your lightning won’t save you from this.” Draxon staggered, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth as he clutched his chest. His eyes, though dazed, still burned with fury. “…Heaven’s Judgment,” he growled, his voice laced with venom. The skies above the volcano roared in response. A massive black cloud spiraled into existence, swirling violently with unnatural force. It growled like a living beast, pulsing with dark energy. Suddenly, bolts of lightning—thick as tree trunks and glowing a haunting violet—crashed down from the storm. Each strike hit with godlike fury, tearing into the ground, the lava, and even the volcanic walls. The entire battlefield was engulfed in a chaotic barrage of destruction. These were no ordinary bolts—they howled like wrathful spirits, searing through stone, melting obsidian, and electrocuting everything in their path. The very air screamed as if heaven itself was unleashing its fury upon the earth. The volcano trembled beneath the divine onslaught. Balaris looked up, eyes narrowing, as the lightning rained down in a storm of divine retribution, sky cracked with celestial fury, the bolts of lightning tearing through the air like the wrath of ancient gods. His eyes narrowed, unshaken. Raising one hand high into the air, he shouted, “Magma Shield!” In an instant, molten rock erupted from the ground beneath him, spiraling upward and solidifying into a massive dome of glowing volcanic armor. The shield shimmered with intense heat, its surface pulsing with veins of lava, absorbing the impact of the falling lightning. Each bolt struck the shield with a deafening BOOM, sending bursts of molten sparks flying—but the barrier held firm, glowing brighter with each strike. The obsidian-like magma didn’t just defend—it seemed to feed off the energy, the surface bubbling and thickening with every hit. Inside the searing barrier, Balaris stood unfazed, his silhouette framed by the roaring heat. “You’ll have to do better than that, Draxon,” he muttered, fire dancing in his eyes. Draxon closed his eyes, his body trembling as raw power built up inside him like a dam about to burst. The air grew heavy. Rocks around him floated into the air, pulled by the force erupting from his core. The ground cracked, then shattered beneath his feet, veins of lightning racing outward in all directions. Then— “HAAAAAAAHHHH!!”
His voice exploded from deep within. The wind howled around him, spiraling upward in a vortex of energy. Lightning cracked across the sky—each bolt brighter than the last. His aura erupted in a blinding flash of white and violet, pulsing like a supernova. “RRRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!” His body arched back, arms flared out as the scream grew deeper, louder echoing across the volcanic wasteland. Magma surged in the distance, tremors rippling through the mountains. Energy tore from his body in waves. His veins lit up like lightning channels. His hair sparked and lifted slightly, flickering with static arcs. The sky above began to swirl into a massive storm, as if the heavens themselves were responding to his call. “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” The scream kept rising—unstoppable. His muscles flexed, his aura expanding like a detonation of thunder and light. Enemies were blown backward just from being nearby. Even the lava trembled. Then, in a final burst— “RAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” A shockwave erupted from him, leveling everything nearby. Lightning exploded in every direction. His body now stood engulfed in a storm-like aura—violent, chaotic, divine. His breathing was heavy, his eyes sharp, glowing with white-hot power. Draxon lowered his arms, staring ahead through the smoke. “...Now I’m done holding back.” Draxon took a step forward. The ground sizzled under his boot, and a chain reaction of lightning burst from beneath, splitting the floor into molten slabs. His cloak whipped violently behind him, half-burnt away, revealing more of the glowing Ember Vows mark now ignited on his back like it was carved by thunder itself. He reappeared in front of Balaris in a blink, his fist already mid-swing, cloaked in condensed storm energy. The punch collided with Balaris’ Magma Shield—shattering it instantly like glass under a hammer. The shockwave lit up the volcano like a second sun, and Balaris was launched like a comet, crashing through a mountain wall behind him. Before the rubble settled, lightning arced through the sky and struck the mountain itself—obliterating it in a single blast. The explosion painted the sky white. “You call yourself a king? Pathetic—you can’t even keep up!” Draxon roared. “Shut…up…Shut…Up…SHUT…UP!!” Balaris’s bellow shook the volcano’s core. The entire fortress quaked, walls crumbling, the ceiling splitting with a violent crack as molten pressure built beneath. “PYROCLASMIC ERUPTION!!!” BOOOOOOOOOOM!!! The ground exploded beneath them. A hellish column of lava, obsidian, and fire shot skyward, incinerating what remained of the volcanic fortress. Rivers of magma surged, devouring mountainsides. The volcano was no longer erupting—it was screaming. Cracks split the land for miles. The sea hissed and boiled as magma spilled into it, turning entire coastlines to glass and steam. Balaris stood within the epicenter, his armor melting into his skin, his eyes wide with fury and madness. “YOU’RE NOT TAKING ME DOWN WITHOUT THIS ENTIRE WORLD COLLAPSING AROUND US!!!” But through the flaming haze…Draxon stood still. Unmoving. Aura flickering. Blue, trembling. Then— His head dropped. Fists clenched. His whole body shook. “...You’re pushing me… too far…” His voice was low. Breathing heavy. Muscles tightening like chains wrapped around his soul. The blue aura began to ripple—unstable, distorted. The wind pulled inward. Then— “GGRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” Draxon screamed. It was raw. Unfiltered. The sound alone shattered stone. Ash exploded upward, forming a swirling storm around him. Lightning crashed down around him—not from the sky, but from his aura itself. Veins glowed crimson. His hair began rising, twisting in the chaotic energy. The ground beneath him collapsed inward, forming a crater beneath his feet. “GGRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!!” More screaming. More power. More chaos. He roared like a beast fighting its own limits, and the aura cracked—then detonated outward like a supernova. The blue was gone. In its place—a dark red aura, thick and wild like liquid fire, swirled around him like a living inferno. His eyes now glowed white-hot. His mouth still open—still screaming into the storm. The volcano began to collapse on itself, as if Draxon’s presence was tearing it apart. “YOU WANT AN ENDING? HERE’S YOUR DAMN ENDING!!” He took a step forward. The air ignited. Another. The ground crumbled beneath his feet. And then—he vanished in a blur of fire and lightning, reappearing in front of Balaris mid-scream, fist pulled back, glowing with a molten red lightning spiral. Draxon flew back to the gathering of Zero, Voragoth, and Azareth, his red aura still flickering from his recent battle. As he approached, his energy began to settle, though his intense gaze remained. He landed with a heavy thud, the ground shaking beneath him. He stared at Voragoth, his eyes cold and resolute. "It's done," Draxon said, his voice dripping with both exhaustion and satisfaction. "The volcano's gone. Balaris is finished." Before Voragoth could respond, a deafening roar shook the very air. The volcano that had once been the center of the battle erupted once more—far worse than before. The land itself trembled, and the ground cracked open as a violent surge of molten lava shot into the sky. The eruption tore apart the landscape, causing massive cracks to form as magma poured like an uncontrollable river. Azareth, standing beside Voragoth, glanced toward the disaster with cold amusement. "It seems even your final victory couldn't contain the power of the volcano, Draxon." Draxon turned, watching the eruption with a hardened gaze, his hand reaching out, as if to harness the forces that were still raging from the mountain. "We have bigger battles to face," Draxon muttered. "But for now, let the volcano burn." As the inferno blazed in the distance, the eruption sending shockwaves throughout the world, the group stood in grim silence, aware that their journey was far from over.