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Chapter 71
The Whisper of the Abyss
A thick black mist began to leak from Valthor's body like slow, heavy smoke from a dying fire. At first, it looked gentle, almost like the sweet smoke that rose from temple incense during quiet prayers. But then it changed. It grew darker, thicker, and full of a strange life of its own.
The mist twisted and curled around Valthor like living black snakes made of pure shadow. It spread fast across the broken stones of the plaza, sliding over cracked tiles and shattered statues with a soft, whispering hiss. The air turned cold and heavy, as if the whole world had suddenly forgotten the warmth of the sun.
Pope Lucian's old eyes widened in pure shock. His wrinkled face went pale under the golden glow of his holy robes. "No…" he whispered, his voice shaking with fear. Without wasting a single second, the old man dashed forward. His long white robes fluttered behind him like wings of light. Golden sparks danced around his wooden staff as holy power gathered there, bright and warm like morning sunlight breaking through clouds.
"Everyone, get back!" he shouted to the paladins and knights around him. His voice rang out strong and clear, full of the faith that had guided him for so many years.
But he was too late.
Before the Pope could reach Valthor, the black mist exploded outward with a deep, thunderous WHOOM! A giant wall of darkness swallowed everything in sight. The brave paladins in their shining armor vanished into the gloom. The broken plaza, with its fallen pillars and scattered weapons, disappeared completely. Even the starry night sky above melted away into nothing.
When the swirling darkness finally slowed and settled, the world had changed into a strange, endless void. There was no ground, no sky, no wind—only soft black mist stretching forever in every direction.
Only two figures stood there now.
Alex.
And Valthor.
But it was not really Valthor anymore. The man standing before Alex felt older than time itself. Ancient. Cold. Endless. Shadows wrapped around his body like a living suit of dark armor, shifting and breathing with every small movement. He took one slow step forward, and the sound of his boot echoed through the mist like the footsteps of something that had walked the earth long before any kingdoms or castles were ever built.
Alex's draconic aura flared up on its own, a warm golden glow that pushed back against the cold shadows. His golden eyes narrowed, ready for whatever came next.
The figure stopped right in front of him. Then, gently—like an old friend—he placed a hand on Alex's shoulder. The touch felt strangely calm and kind, not at all like the evil power that had filled the air moments before.
"Alex," the voice said softly. But it was not Valthor's usual sharp tone. This voice was deeper, older, filled with a quiet and endless darkness that seemed to come from the beginning of everything.
"Tell me… why do you have to do this?"
The mist around them moved slowly, like gentle waves on a black ocean at midnight. Soft images began to appear inside the darkness, floating like glowing pictures in a dream.
Alex saw his old classroom back on Earth—desks lined up neatly, sunlight streaming through the windows, the smell of chalk and fresh notebooks in the air. He saw his friends laughing together in the hallway, sharing jokes and snacks after school. He saw his quiet room filled with books, posters on the walls, and the soft comfort of his own bed.
"You had friends," the voice continued gently. "You had a life. You had peace."
The pictures shimmered and changed.
"But those three goddesses… my sisters… snatched that happiness away from you."
The shadows twisted and curled tighter, as if angry at the memory. "They took you from your world. They placed you inside the body of a cursed prince. And now they expect a child… just a boy like you… to save an entire world."
The voice grew colder, like ice wind blowing across a frozen lake. "While they sit high above the heavens… watching everything like it's just a game."
The ancient presence leaned closer. His eyes glowed faintly with dark power, yet his words sounded almost caring. "Tell me, Alex. Does this world truly belong to you? If this world is destroyed or saved… what does it have to do with you? This world is simply following its own destiny. Why should you carry its heavy burden all alone?"
The ancient being slowly extended one hand toward Alex. The shadows around the hand softened into something warm and inviting. "Take my hand. I will send you back."
The mist shifted again, and a new vision appeared—brighter and more beautiful than before. Alex saw his old world once more. His friends were waiting for him on a sunny park bench, waving and calling his name. He saw his family's cozy home, the smell of fresh dinner cooking, laughter echoing from the kitchen. No wars. No scary monsters hiding in the dark. No angry gods fighting in the sky. Just a simple, happy life filled with everyday joys.
"You can return to them," the voice whispered like a kind promise. "No more pain. No more fear. Just take my hand."
Alex's fingers trembled. The world around him suddenly felt so heavy. His heart pulled toward those warm memories. His mind began to drift, floating gently toward the comfort of home. Slowly, very slowly, his hand started to lift and reach out…
Then, inside his own mind, another voice echoed clearly.
"Alex."
Everything froze. The black mist trembled like it had been struck by lightning.
Alex turned in his thoughts and saw someone standing there—himself. The real Alex from Earth. The boy who used to worry about school tests and video games, not dragons or world-ending battles. That other Alex shook his head firmly, his eyes steady and full of quiet strength.
"Don't fall for it," he said calmly.
"But this world…" Alex started to reply in his mind.
The real Alex pointed outward, and new images appeared—warm and full of life. There was Max, grinning with that brave smile after they fought side by side. Leon standing tall and loyal, his sword raised high. Selena's kind eyes looking at him with trust and friendship. He saw the people he had saved—the villagers who cheered when he drove away monsters, the friends who laughed around campfires at night, and even his new parents in this world who had welcomed him with open arms.
"Think about them," the real Alex said softly. "Think about our parents. Think about the friends waiting for us here. They are our world now."
He stepped closer inside the mind-space, his voice warm like a hug. "If we run away now… then what was the point of coming here? We've grown stronger. We've made real bonds. Don't forget—you are not alone."
The vision faded away like morning mist under the sun.
Alex's real eyes snapped open wide. His golden pupils burned bright like two blazing suns, full of new fire and determination. The ancient god frowned just a little, surprised.
Alex's hand closed into a tight fist instead of reaching out. "Nice try," he said, his voice steady and strong.
HOLY LIGHT ERUPTED!
BOOM!
Alex's punch slammed straight into the ancient god's chest with a burst of pure divine force. Golden sparks flew everywhere, lighting up the dark mist like a thousand tiny stars. The powerful hit sent the ancient being sliding backward through the shadows, his dark armor cracking with small lines of light.
The ancient god looked at Alex quietly for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled—a calm, almost proud smile.
"Well done," he said. "If my sister chose you… you must truly be special."
He took a slow step back. The darkness around him rippled like water disturbed by a stone. "But you have already changed the world's timeline. The gates that were meant to open in ten years… will now open in only five."
His voice echoed like distant thunder rolling across mountains. "Prepare yourself, boy. Because when the day comes… when I descend into this world… this world will be destroyed."
The darkness trembled violently, shaking like an earthquake deep underground.
CRACK!
The black mist shattered into pieces like broken glass. Reality rushed back in with a whoosh of fresh air.
The plaza reappeared around them, still broken and filled with dust. The paladins were on their knees, coughing hard as the dark mist clung to them like sticky poison. Some clutched their throats, eyes wide with fear. The once-bright holy banners now hung limp and torn.
Pope Lucian roared with pure fury. "HERETIC!"
Holy light exploded from his staff like a blazing sunbeam shot from the heavens. The massive divine spell flew forward in a roaring wave of golden power.
BOOM!
It struck Valthor's body right in the center. The corrupted archbishop screamed as the holy energy tore through him like fire through dry leaves. His body glowed brightly, then shattered into countless sparkling fragments that floated up and scattered into the air like glowing dust on the wind. The last of the darkness inside him vanished with a final hiss.
But the black mist did not disappear with him.
It stayed behind, thick and heavy, spreading slowly across the entire plaza like a creeping sickness. Paladins fell to their knees one by one, choking and gasping. Their shining armor looked dull now, covered in dark streaks. Even strong Captain Kaelan dropped his sword with a loud clatter. He sank down, breathing hard.
"…Your Highness…" he whispered weakly, looking up at Alex with tired but loyal eyes. "…the mist… it's everywhere…"
One by one, the brave knights began to collapse. Their bodies shook as the poison worked its way deeper. Some reached out weakly toward their friends, trying to help even as they fell. Others whispered prayers, their voices fading. The once-noisy battlefield grew quiet except for the soft, painful coughing and the whisper of the mist that still floated like hungry shadows.
Alex stood in the middle of it all, looking around in shock. His heart pounded hard in his chest. Golden light still flickered around his fists, but now it mixed with worry. He saw the faces of the men who had fought beside him—the same men who had believed in him when he first arrived in this world. They had followed him into danger without question. And now they were slipping away, one by one, because of this cursed mist.
The weight of it hit him like a cold wave. Everyone was about to die.
But Alex's jaw tightened. His golden eyes burned brighter than ever. He was not the scared boy from Earth anymore. He was the hero this world needed—the one who had chosen to stay and fight.
He took a deep breath, feeling the warm power of the dragons and the goddesses inside him. "Not today," he whispered to himself. "I won't let you take them."
The mist swirled closer, almost as if it heard him and wanted to test him one last time.
But Alex stood tall, ready to push back against the darkness once more.
The fight was far from over.
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