I am Him: Revered through Realms

He fell,

Plunged into a surreal abyss where time warped and meaning dissolved.

Above him, the portal still lingered, pulsing erratically, jagged and alive. From its gaping maw spilled tendrils of black lightning, chaotic and thunderous. The sound was deafening, a violent percussion that shattered Marcellus's eardrums, sending rivulets of blood trickling from his ears.

It all happened in an instant, yet every moment stretched endlessly, as though reality itself hesitated.

His breathing grew labored, jagged. He struggled for air that barely existed. Whatever realm he had entered, it was draining the life from him slowly, mercilessly.

Far below, attention stirred.

The creatures of this realm looked upward, drawn by the unnatural disturbance. Their gazes locked onto the portal and the lone figure tumbling from it, Marcellus, descending like a herald or a sacrifice.

To those with wings, it was an opportunity.

With shrieks and the rustle of wings, they took to the air, soaring toward the rift. They understood instinctively: this was a gateway, an interlink to the other side.

Others remained grounded, eyes never leaving the falling boy, captivated by his presence. Watching. Waiting.

A moth-like creature, its face a twisted mask of grotesquery, attempted to draw near the rift, but was instantly struck by a bolt of black lightning. Another beast followed: a monstrous eagle with the head of a bull fused grotesquely with a bird's beak, and a serpentine neck like that of a dragon.

It twisted and weaved through the air, agile despite its bulk, but its evasion ended in vain. Lightning split it cleanly in two, its remains spiraling downward in silence.

It became clear: the lightning was more than a barrier; it was a ward, keeping these abominations tethered to this dreadful place, forbidding escape.

Amid the chaos, Marcellus drifted downward, helpless and disoriented. He could scarcely hear, the world was muted, muffled by the pressure in his ears and the haze in his mind. Breathing was no easier; each gasp felt strangled by the very air, thick with dread.

And yet, even in this vast and forsaken space, purple, desolate, and soaked in malice, there lingered a strange warmth, faint and inexplicable.

Then came the fear.

It seeped in, slow and cold.

His limbs refused him, sluggish and disobedient, as though they no longer belonged to him. He was trapped within himself, a passenger in a fragile, uncoordinated vessel.

He was a newborn, after all, just hours into life. And now, flung into a realm no child should ever know.

Worry clouded his thoughts, heavy and relentless. How is my mother? The question pulsed through his mind like a drumbeat.

He had failed her, just as he had in his previous life.

Memories surged forth, sharp and unforgiving: his past self, powerless as his mother shielded him from armed robbers, her final act one of sacrifice. He couldn't save her then. And now, in this new life, history threatened to repeat itself.

He had failed again.

Yet a fragile thread of hope slipped through the despair. Perhaps… she was spared. After all, he had been the threat. Maybe, just maybe, she had been left unharmed.

But there was no time to dwell.

As he neared the ground, a colossal figure emerged, a gorilla-like behemoth cloaked in muscle and shadow. With a single, deliberate motion, it extended a massive hand and caught Marcellus mid-fall, cupping his fragile, infant form with eerie precision.

Panic swelled. Confusion, fury, and helpless fear churned inside him. He was too weak to fight, too small to resist, but one thing rang clear: if he died now, his wife and sister's souls would vanish with him.

A scream tore from his lungs, loud, raw, desperate.

But it was lost, a whisper against the enormity of the creature that held him.

His breath faltered.

His limbs slackened.

As his breath waned and his vision blurred, he surrendered to failure.

To the bitter truth that he had saved no one.

In that moment of unconscious surrender, something within him snapped.

A vast, uncontrolled surge of energy erupted from his core, wild, radiant, and uncontainable. It tore through like a silent scream, a volatile blend of rage, desperation, and defiance.

It was both a cry for help and rage: I want to kill Astarossah!!.

Lesser creatures nearby recoiled, stunned and bewildered by the force of his release.

Even from great distances, others felt it.

A ripple across the realm, impossible to ignore, their fears taking form within their mind.

The creature jerked its head back as Marcellus's aura flared to life, intense and otherworldly. Yet, undeterred, it opened its massive jaws and swallowed him whole in a single, fluid motion.

Above, the portal flickered out of existence. The other beasts began to retreat, their forms melting into the shadows. But then, a thunderous crash shattered the silence, halting their retreat.

From the darkness emerged a colossal fist, bursting through the gorilla-like titan with brutal force. It belonged to another giant, a far more fearsome presence.

This one was female in form, towering and dreadful, with six arms. Two veiled her eyes, another pair wrapped tightly around her torso as if shielding herself from cold, and the final pair pierced clean through the other beast.

With a smooth, deliberate motion, she drew her hand back, and there, cradled carefully in her palm, was Marcellus, unharmed.

Another resounding thud echoed as the lifeless body of the first colossus collapsed to the ground.

Other creatures below either ignited with fear or fled in frenzy as its aura howled through the air, an unseen scream that tore at the soul.

They feared this being with every fiber of their existence.

Yet some remained unshaken, unbothered. They watched with a strange, morbid delight, as though savoring the spectacle.

It gazed down at Marcellus, who lay unconscious, yet its eyes seemed to peer beyond flesh and bone, as though searching his very essence.

With a single finger, it touched him.

A sigil flared to life upon contact, ancient and intricate, its light branding Marcellus as time surged unnaturally. In an instant, he aged five years.

The atmosphere thickened, dense and suffocating. The air itself felt hostile, as though War had taken form and now exhaled.

From the distance, colossal beings began to advance, each footfall like a quiet declaration of judgment.

Among them, the indifferent ones reveled in the unfolding moment, drawn not by empathy but by anticipation.

The Elders had not gathered in eons; such assemblies were reserved for events that threatened the order of all things.

Marcellus's aura had sent ripples far and wide. But that alone did not summon them.

No. One of their own had been slain.

And now, they had come.