I yawned and stretched out on the rocky ground, my wings snapping back into place behind me like they were auditioning for the world's most dramatic entrance.
Don't start.
Yes, I sleep with my wings out. Celestianite thing. Saves gold on blankets.
The cave buzzed as everyone woke up—and of course Olsen couldn't just rise quietly like a civilized creature. He yawned so loud the walls trembled.
I stared at him. Flat. Unamused.
"Was that necessary?"
He shrugged and shifted into his bulky Ankylosaurus form, stone plates clanking.
"Earthnites gotta Earthnite."
I peeked outside.
The sky was already boiling into that cursed red-orange soup again. Heat slammed into my face like the planet personally hated me. Volcanoes rumbled in the distance, sounding irritated—like they hadn't had caffeine yet.
Out there, Vexes prowled the ash flats. Skinny. Four-legged. All head, all teeth. No eyes. No nose. Just vibes and violence.
I smiled.
"Cool. Daywalkers."
The squad regrouped—half-awake, fully annoyed. First objective: get off this molten nightmare and reach the next island without dying horribly.
"Where to?" I asked, pulling out the map.
"North," Olsen said, squinting like the horizon owed him money.
Then—twotwoot.
My dragon ears twitched.
That's bad. That's very bad.
"You guys hear that?" I asked.
They shook their heads.
Great. Love being the only one with paranoia and ears.
Twotwoot—again. Louder this time. Some unholy screech-roar that sounded like a cat and a T-Rex were beefing in a metal band.
I spun around, tail wagging before my brain could stop it.
"We should absolutely investigate."
Scarletsville stretched out before us—endless scorched valleys, lava dripping down cliffs like the world's worst faucet. The air tasted like smoke, ash, and poor life choices.
At the bottom of a steep hill stood a glowing blue figure, crackling with energy. Eyes blazing. Knuckles cracking. Final-boss posture.
Prince squinted.
"Isn't that… Power?"
My brain detonated.
That.
Is.
Power Zenith.
THE Power Zenith.
The legend. The blueprint. The reason the Power Gems even exist.
I didn't think. I acted.
I grabbed a flat rock, hopped on it like a hoverboard, and launched down the hill—drifting, sliding, ash spraying everywhere. I backflipped off at the bottom and flicked the rock away like I meant to do that.
Power turned, smiled.
"Well, well. If it isn't Don. Remember me?"
My soul left my body and did a lap.
POWER Z. The OG. The absolute GOAT of Avangard.
I grabbed his hand and shook it like I'd found the last slice of pizza and it was still warm.
"It's an honor—I'm your biggest fan—you're actually here—I—"
"Easy," Power laughed. "Breathe, kid."
My face went nuclear red.
"Right. Sorry. Normal. I'm being normal."
"Fanboy alert," Olsen called from the hill.
Archie tilted his head.
"This guy's the top hero? You're this obsessed with him?"
I stared at Archie like he'd just said two plus two was spaghetti.
"HOW do you not know him? He saved over a hundred people in the Leviathan raid. Literal. Living. GOAT."
Demaurion crossed his arms.
"Fantastic. History lesson over. We still have a prophecy."
I sighed, smoke puffing from my nostrils.
"Yeah. Let's do the save-the-world thing before more villains smell us."
Prince studied the map.
"Next stop: Gadian Sea. And we're not even close!"
He flipped it upside down. Paused.
"Oh. Never mind. I was reading it wrong."
"We're south of Scarletsville," I said, pointing. "Near the Pyramids of Markilao. Water's that way."
Back at the cave, Power's expression finally shifted—lighter gone, focus locked in.
"So," I said, "Celestianites and Lunaranites are beefing over the Lost Key. Lunaranites want control. Celestianites want peace. And us—me, Olsen, Prince, Archie, Demaurion—we're supposed to stop the apocalypse."
Power nodded.
"Yep. Long fight. No breaks. No vacation."
Then he smirked.
"But I think you kids can handle it."
FIVE MINUTES LATER
For hours.
We trained. No joke. We trained hard—muscles screaming, sweat pouring like rivers, and laughs slipping through the cracks like accidental relief from the apocalypse's weight.
Archie was trying to breathe fire without torching his own eyebrows off. Spoiler: he looked like a crispy chicken nugget by the end.
Olsen was grunting like a grizzly bear with a grudge, slamming boulders into the dirt like the world owed him something.
Prince? Dude was basically a human bullet, zipping around so fast even his own shadow struggled to keep up.
Demaurion was over there summoning water with all the finesse of a kid who just learned to pour a glass—accidentally dousing Olsen's face more times than anyone could count.
And me? I was chasing my celestial energy like it was a hyperactive cat hiding in a tree—sometimes I caught it, sometimes I faceplanted, and sometimes I just looked like I was doing an interpretive dance of defeat.
Power watched from a distance, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. Finally, he walked over, voice booming but calm.
"Alright, Don. Let's talk daggers."
My eyes lit up like I'd just won a free pizza. "Daggers? You mean these spirally things?" I brandished the pair of sleek, humming Celestial Daggers Power had forged himself.
"You called them 'spirally things', they're daggers," he added, expression dry. I twirled them around, eyeing both of them. "Spirally equals spirally, they look spirally so I'll call them 'spirally things'." Power sighed, "Yup. They're your new best friends."
I grinned, imagining myself slicing through enemies like a shadow ninja.
Power's smirk twisted. "But here's the catch: daggers aren't about brute force. It's speed, precision, and control. You've got the speed part down, but your precision? Not so much."
Oof. That hit like a cold bucket of water.
"Okay, wise guy, what do I do then?"
He clapped his hands, and suddenly the clearing filled with glowing blue figures—short, flickering shapes that looked like holograms of some kind.
"Meet the Shadow Patrioits. They're tough, fast, and relentless—perfect practice dummies. Your job: slash them all down in 30 seconds."
I stared, heart pounding. "Thirty seconds?! That was like, ZERO TIME!"
Power's eyes gleamed. "Ready? Go."
I lunged, daggers flashing, but the Shadows darted and spun like smoke. My strikes were wild and unfocused. I missed more than I hit. Time slipped by, the timer in my head ticking down mercilessly.
Thirty seconds ended. Fail.
Power shook his head. "Again."
Thirty seconds later: fail again.
"Don't get sloppy. Calm your mind, focus your strikes. Precision."
Third time, I started to find a rhythm—daggers slicing through two Shadows, then a quick pivot to hit a third. My strikes grew cleaner, movements tighter.
Power nodded, impressed. "Better."
We ran the drill again and again. The shadows blinked out faster each time. My arms ached, sweat stung my eyes, but I got it. Precision wasn't about raw power; it was about dance, about moving like you owned the space.
"See," Power said, eyes sharp, "daggers demand agility. You've got to be light on your feet, fluid like water."
Agility. That word echoed in my mind.
I thought back to the move I'd loved as a kid—the Wing Jump. Using my wings to boost my jump height, launching myself higher than I should've been able to.
"Show me your Wing Jump," Power said suddenly.
I hesitated, then spread my wings, crouched low, and pushed off the ground. My wings unfurled just right, and I soared higher than I ever had before, feeling power surging through my veins. My body was stronger now, forged by hours of grueling training.
Power nodded approvingly. "Good. Combine that with your dagger work. Speed, precision, and agility all fused."
I grinned, panting but pumped. "So… daggers and flying ninja moves? I'm basically unstoppable now, right?"
Power chuckled. "Slow your roll, kid. You're just getting started."
Hours rolled on like this—me practicing dagger strikes, dodging, weaving, slashing Patriot Shadows, jumping higher and moving faster.
I was falling, failing, laughing, sweating, but every time I got up, I was sharper, quicker, better.
And the best part? I knew this was just the beginning.
We all went back into the cave mid-day. Training had drained every last drop of sweat and fire from our bodies, but none of us dared relax—not yet.
I stared down at my hands, swirling thoughts locking in place. Why are they fighting over one thing?
Olsen shot me a look like I'd lost it.
"You serious? Lunaranites want to take over Avangard!"
"No, I mean… why though? What even started all this?" Power's confident grin faded. He glanced down, voice dipping into something darker. "Alright, time for a little history lesson."
***
Origin Story of — King Dreadixz
Dreadixz was never meant for ordinary.
From the very beginning, his hunger for power felt unnatural—like a void that couldn't be filled, only expanded. While others lived within the structure of Celestia, he rejected it entirely. Even as a miner in its depths, he wasn't just working—he was watching. Thinking. Waiting.
He didn't just want strength.
He wanted authority.
Control.
A throne high enough to stand above even the stars.
And above all else… he wanted what King Vigilzante had.
Vigilzante was everything Dreadixz wasn't—respected, untouchable, a ruler crowned in legacy and balance. While Dreadixz carved through stone and shadow, Vigilzante ruled with effortless dominance. Every word of praise toward the king felt like an insult. Every moment under his rule felt like suffocation.
It wasn't admiration.
It was hatred.
The Lunaranites during this time were already intelligent—capable of thought, loyalty, and decision. But they had no true ruler. No unifying force. They lived scattered, divided, without purpose beyond survival and instinct.
Dreadixz saw that weakness immediately.
Not as something to fix…
…but something to exploit.
Everything changed the day he found it.
The Lost Key.
It didn't glow. It didn't speak. It didn't choose.
It simply existed—ancient, silent, and absolute.
And Dreadixz understood something no one else did.
It wasn't meant to judge.
It was meant to be used.
When he took the Key, nothing stopped him. No force pushed back. No destiny intervened. The power within it bent to his will, and with it, Dreadixz elevated himself beyond anything the Lunaranites had ever seen.
Not by changing them—
…but by proving he was above them.
Through sheer power and presence, he unified the Lunaranites under a single command. Not through kindness. Not through leadership.
Through dominance.
Through fear.
Through undeniable strength.
And just like that…
He became their king.
Not by birth.
Not by right.
But because no one could challenge him.
With an army behind him, Dreadixz carved out his own dominion—ruling a vast portion of what was once Celestia. But time itself reshaped the world. The land fractured, broken apart by natural ocean patterns, collapsing into a single, isolated continent:
Foreshade.
A land drowned in shadow.
A kingdom built on control.
And from there…
Dreadixz ruled.
But even with power, territory, and an entire people beneath him…
It still wasn't enough.
Because Vigilzante still stood.
Still praised. Still followed. Still representing everything Dreadixz despised—balance, order, peace.
To Dreadixz, those weren't strengths.
They were flaws.
Illusions that kept the world weak.
His hatred evolved into something far greater than jealousy. It became belief. A vision of reality where the world itself was the problem.
Why rule a broken system…
…when you could erase it completely?
Dreadixz no longer sought a throne beside other rulers.
He sought a world where he would be the only one left to rule.
No kings.
No gods.
No resistance.
Just silence.
And absolute control.
He spread this ideology across Foreshade, shaping the Lunaranites into something far more dangerous than a kingdom—into a force. A unified belief that the world didn't deserve to exist as it was.
That it needed to be destroyed.
Remade.
Purified.
And when the time came…
Dreadixz rose fully as the King of the Lunaranites—the Shadow Lord—and declared his true goal:
Not conquest.
Not balance.
Annihilation.
The complete destruction of the world itself—so that from its ashes, he and the Lunaranites could rule in eternal silence.
And at the center of it all…
The Lost Key remained.
Not a god.
Not a force of destiny.
Just power.
Power that Dreadixz had already claimed once—
…and would use again to finish what he started.
No matter who tried to stop him.
Power's voice dropped as he finished. "That's why Dreadixz and the Lunaranites want the Key. Vengeance. Power. Control."
I lowered my gaze. "Damn… I get it now." The cave was dead silent except for a slow drip… drip… drip echoing somewhere deep inside. My breath puffed into little clouds—it was cold enough to freeze a dragon sneeze.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out this old, crinkled scroll. "Okay, so uh… I may or may not have found this thing earlier," I said, unrolling it carefully.
Prince leaned in. "Bro, that was in your pocket this whole time?!"
Olsen blinked. "Wait—you mean we almost got eaten by Scar and you had the legendary scroll of destiny in your jeans?"
"…It wasn't exactly labelled that, Olsen," I muttered.
Archie squinted at it. "You sure that's not just your grocery list or something?"
Power shot everyone a sharp look. "Quiet." The glow from the runes flared as he took the scroll from my hands, his eyes scanning the ancient Celestianite symbols. His voice dropped as he began to read.
"Celestial's Fight, Earth's Might, Lightning's Surge, Flame's Burns…"
As he spoke, the words rippled through the air, lighting up the cave walls with golden light. The energy was heavy, ancient—like time itself was listening.
When he finished, the last line echoed like a whisper in the dark:
"Shall he ascend and claim his name."
The glow faded, leaving us in eerie silence.
Olsen scratched his head. "That… sounded kinda royal. Like, you're about to get a crown or something."
Prince grinned. "Your majesty, would you like to hold your shiny crown because even the ones that fold under their breath deserve to be a king."
He made this dramatic kneel motion before instantly slipping on a rock, "AH!"
"Stop—" I started, snickering. "You look like a broken swan."
Power didn't laugh. He slowly rolled the scroll back up, his eyes never leaving me. "It's not a joke."
The air got heavier.
"That line—'Shall he ascend and claim his name'—it's not just prophecy fluff. It means you, Don, are destined to become the next King of the Celestianites."
My smile dropped instantly. "…Huh?"
"King," Power repeated, his tone dead serious. "Celestia hasn't had one since the old empire fell. This prophecy says you'll take the Celestial throne when the trials are complete."
My wings twitched. "King? Bro, I can barely wake up on time. You think I can run an entire species?"
Prince snorted. "So what, we gotta start calling you 'Your Majesty' now?"
"Do it and I'm kicking you into a portal," I warned, glaring.
Olsen crossed his arms. "Well, guess that means we're guarding royalty now."
Prince grinned again. "Nah, I'm still calling him 'King Celestianite Dragon of the Divine Tribe Lens Donnerton the Absolute III'. With fancy violin music playing in the background." He took a deep breathe, then let out a high-pitched, "DODODODO DOO DOO—"
"PRINCE!" I snapped, wings flaring.
"DON'T HURT ME PLEASE I DON'T KNOW PRINCE!" he squeaked, ducking behind Olsen.
Power sighed, shaking his head. "Children of prophecy, definitely…"
Suddenly, the cave trembled. The ground groaned beneath our feet, rocks rattling and crashing down around us. Adrenaline surged through my veins as we bolted outside. From the depths of the canyon, something stirred. The wind screamed, the earth split, and the ground ruptured to reveal a river of glowing lava.
Then—oh no.
Did I forget to mention… he's a Flamenite? NO SHIT HE SURVIVED! HE FELL IN LAVA!
I snapped at Archie, "HOW COME YOU DIDN'T TELL US ABOUT THE LAVA PART?!"
He shrugged. Classic Archie.
King Scar stepped out. Seven-foot hybrid-lion nightmare. Armor scorched red, claws aflame, mane blazing like molten hell. Burning orange eyes, scars across them, tail on fire. Every inch of him screamed apocalypse.
I drew my daggers, hands shaking.
"What the heck is that?!" Olsen yelled.
"F***ing KING SCAR!" I muttered. Celestial energy crackled across my skin.
Power hovered nearby, arms crossed, blue aura flickering. His expression screamed: I did not sign up for this. Amateur hour.
"Can't you just kill him already?" I hissed.
"This is your prophecy, not mine," Power said, unimpressed. Arms crossed. Watching. Judgmental.
I gritted my teeth. "Alright… it is what it is."
Olsen groaned. "Fight? That thing could eat us for breakfast!"
I glared. "We're the Five Chosen Ones. If we die… we die trying."
Olsen blinked. "…Okay, just try not to actually die."
We charged. I leapt. Scar mirrored me. Mid-air, daggers clashed against flaming sword. Sparks flew, shockwaves tore the ground.
Prince zipped in. Lightning crackled. Scar swatted him aside. "OUCH! Not fair!"
Olsen swung his hammer. Scar kicked him back. "I think I broke my dignity… and my ribs."
Archie launched fireballs. Scar waved his sword. Archie went rolling like a flaming noodle. "Why is he so extra?!"
Demaurion hurled a water vortex. Steam hissed. Scar uppercut him. "Well… that was rude."
We flailed. Scratched. Barely dodged. Tiny sparks of improvement flickered—one dodge here, one nick there. Not enough to matter.
Power hovered, arms crossed. "Cute. Really cute."
Scar slammed a fiery claw into the ground. Shockwave ripped through us. I barely leapt out of the way. Olsen tried a hammer swing. Scar caught it, snapped the handle. "Seriously?! My hammer?!"
Prince blinked behind Scar, trying to strike the neck. Scar spun, elbowed him down. "OW! I… can't… do this…" Prince wheezed.
Archie dove again, fireball after fireball. Scar sliced through them midair. "Are you kidding me?" Archie yelled, flaming tail smoldering.
Demaurion summoned a tidal wave. Scar stomped, turned it into steam. "Water… useless…" he growled.
I ducked, rolled, kicked, slashed, blinked. Sparked tiny hits. One cut his forearm. He roared, claws slicing the canyon. "RUN!" I yelled to the others.
We regrouped, breathing heavy, blood everywhere, armor scorched. Power still watching, arms crossed. Judging.
Scar's tail whipped. I jumped, barely avoiding a lava swing. Olsen swung his hammer again—Scar caught it mid-air, spun him, slammed him into a boulder. "I… think I'm unconscious…"
Prince tried another blitz. Scar elbowed him into molten stone. Archie dived again, but Scar just kicked the air near him, and flames sprayed. Demaurion slammed water, but it boiled instantly.
I wiped blood from my nose. "Okay… tiny improvement?"
Scar leapt at me, roaring. I twisted daggers, blocked, kicked. Sparks, clangs, WHASH! Graze on his leg. Water blasts encased him in obsidian for two seconds before he shattered free.
Power muttered, "You're all adorable when you flail."
Scar launched a beam of fire. Prince zipped to dodge, accidentally zapping Olsen's shoulder. "Hey!" Olsen yelled. Archie dove and landed in a pile of ash. Demaurion tried water again. Hit the ground. Everyone just getting destroyed.
We staggered. Tiny hits here and there. My dagger nicked his neck—almost nothing. Scar smirked, claws tracing the canyon walls, sending sparks into the air.
Then… by some cosmic, impossible miracle: I slipped on ash, flailed, bounced off Scar's flaming tail, dagger twirled, hit a weak spot in his armor. Scar staggered.
Olsen scrambled, hammer swinging—accidentally smacked Scar in the side. Prince blitzed, clipped another weak spot. Archie dove, landed fireball right where the armor cracked. Demaurion blasted water perfectly to cool a critical spot.
All at once, chaos magic, lightning, fire, water, hammer, and daggers combined in one impossible chain reaction. Scar's tail caught wrong, armor opened… my dagger flicked, celestial energy crackling, and struck the exact spot in his neck armor.
King Scar roared, staggering into lava. His blazing mane flared one last time… then PLOP. Lava swallowed him. Silence.
Power finally spoke, dry as ever: "You… survived. And somehow, against all odds… killed him. I'm mildly impressed. Don't make it a habit."
We collapsed. Exhausted, scorched, bleeding, stunned.
Archie groaned. "We… we actually did it?"
Olsen smacked his forehead. "Somehow… alive."
Prince muttered, "That was not a drill."
Demaurion coughed. "Tiny improvement… maximum luck."
I wiped blood, tail wagging weakly. "First enemy down… first miracle win."
Archie pulled out the map. "Gadian Sea Kingdom isn't far. Let's move before lava physics get bored and kill us anyway."
I raised my fists, grin shaky but victorious. "Gadian Sea Kingdom… here we come… alive, barely, but alive."