I am Him: Revered through Realms

"I am Aurora, Fourth Guard of the Abyss... and yet, I feel fear." The thought echoed in her mind as her eyes remained fixed on Marcellus, whose bloodlust seemed to press against the air like a suffocating weight.

What made this boy so terrifying? His ability? No. His aura? Still no. Sure, his power was extraordinary, unnatural, even, for someone so young. He was already capable of holding his own against the likes of them. Most Calamities required a century merely to breathe in the presence of the Elders, let alone challenge an Abyss Guard. But this boy...

Aurora's thoughts churned, spiraling like the chaotic winds around them.

Marcellus took a step forward. With a casual sweep of his hand, the raging hurricanes vanished. And still... he wasn't done.

Something within Aurora shifted. Instinct, honed over eons, screamed at her. This was no longer a spectacle to be dismissed. This child was a threat.

She inhaled sharply, steadying herself. "Diamanté..." she called.

The towering behemoth responded, tilting its massive head toward her. "I'm going in."

Upon hearing her resolve, Diamanté gave a solemn nod, its form bracing for what was to come.

Marcellus could sense it, something was building. Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to give them the chance to finish it. Without hesitation, his aura flared. It twisted and stretched behind him like spectral wings, dense and luminous, before launching him forward in a blur of force aimed straight at them.

Aurora didn't flinch. A cold smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she calmly raised a single hand in his direction. In an instant, the space between them vanished, erased as if it had never existed.

A silent rupture tore through the battlefield. Reality folded, and the space Marcellus surged through collapsed into the one Aurora occupied, the two zones cojoining with seamless violence.

Just like that, he was no longer charging towards her.

He was already in front of her.

Marcellus had no time to comprehend what had just occurred.

Aurora's hand was already crashing down toward his head like a divine judgment. Only instinct saved him. At the last possible moment, he twisted away, narrowly dodging her strike.

The space where his skull had been vanished, erased cleanly, leaving behind a shimmering void. A breath later, the surrounding space collapsed to fill the absence, reality coalescing with a snap that rattled the air.

Marcellus shivered, not from fear, but from the grim realization of what might've happened had he not known her ability.

His heart throbbed with a rare sense of gratitude toward Loki, who had earlier tipped him off about her ability.

Without hesitation, he aimed his palm at her abdomen, intending to use the singularity in the shape of a glove to tear through her innards.

But she had seen it. With a thought, she folded space again, and Marcellus was hurled across the battlefield, his momentum disrupted, his body flickering before crashing into the ground far from her.

"Worshipped by mortals as the harbinger of serene extinction," she began, her voice like tempered steel, "She who brings nothingness and calm, I offer you my respect. And thus, I bid you farewell... for we shall not cross paths again." She lowered her stance.

"Act II."

As her final words echoed, her horns began to grow, long, jagged, and crowned with Abyss-like energy, warping the very air around her. This was the technique that set her apart from the others, The power that earned her the title of Fourth Guard of the Abyss.

With a flick of her finger, Diamanté glitched, his massive form distorting like corrupted data, then vanished, teleported far from her.

The lesser creatures understood what was coming. Some turned and fled in pure instinct, while others, veterans of this darkness, hurried to etch protective sigils onto their bodies, wards passed down from survivors of past encounters.

Then, from behind Aurora, it emerged.

An entity born from darkness. It coalesced out of nothing, wrapping its limbs around her shoulders in eerie reverence. Its eyes, twin circles of cold, glowing white, stared into the world.

Then it screamed.

The sound was not heard but felt. Those without protection, those too weak or too slow, collapsed instantly. Their consciousness obliterated. Snuffed out like candles caught in a void storm.

A radiant white halo began to form above Aurora's head as the dark entity behind her reached forward, gently blindfolding her eyes with tendrils of shadow. Reality around her twisted violently.

Space itself bent and buckled, as if her very presence had become an affront to stability. On the other end of the battlefield, Marcellus broke from his usual calm.

A wild grin stretched across his face, filled not with malice, but an unexplainable exhilaration. Something primal stirred within him, something ancient.

He let out a savage scream. "Bring it on, darling!" In that instant, his aura detonated outward like a shockwave.

It surged across the field, an invisible tempest of raw willpower. Lesser creatures fell to their knees, shrieking, caught in a deluge of their worst nightmares. To many, Aurora's image became the embodiment of their fear.

But not to Aurora. She saw something else. Him. The boy. The anomaly. Marcellus. His presence pulsed with a power she couldn't quantify, an unnatural ability coupled with a terrifying capacity for exponential growth.

She remained calm, at least outwardly. Inwardly, a sliver of doubt crept in... but she clung to the belief that she could still end him.

Her fingers rose toward the blindfold, hesitant, knowing this part of her ability could deter far more than she hoped for.

But then, A voice, sharp and absolute, pierced the chaos. "That's enough. This will be addressed at a later time." It was the voice of an Elder.

Before Aurora could respond, another voice followed, softer, feminine, yet carrying the weight of something ancient and ominous. "From this moment forward, he bears the title of Thirteenth Guard… and you know what that entails."

Silence followed. All eyes turned to Marcellus. Among the other Guards, reactions varied, some filled with disdain, others with intrigue. A few showed no emotion at all. But no one spoke. None would dare challenge nor question the judgment of the Elders.

Then, as if remembering unfinished business, the Elders turned their gaze upon Mirah. "You are hereby stripped of your position as Elder," the female voice intoned, "For the murder of Demiurge, bearer of the Sixth Seat. Both your seat, and his, shall be reassigned in due time."

Mirah bowed her head in solemn acceptance. With her title revoked, the protections once afforded to her vanished. She was now a marked figure, vulnerable to the ambition of creatures eager to carve their names into legend by ending her and claiming the glory.

Marcellus exhaled deeply, casting one final look toward the Elders. Their eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, measuring, weighing. And then, as if caught in a silent signal, they faded.

Not vanished in light or shadow, simply gone, like mist under morning sun. The atmosphere shifted. The pressure lifted. The world felt breathable again.

One of the Elders raised a hand in quiet farewell. A brilliant wave of energy swept across the battlefield, and in an instant, the devastation left by the clash between Aurora and Marcellus was undone.

The land was restored, untouched, pristine. As though nothing had ever happened.

A heavy silence settled between Aurora and Marcellus as they locked eyes, a quiet tension brewing beneath their stillness, Aurora embarrassed by the speech she had made earlier only for the elders to lock her in a stalemate. It was Mirah who finally disrupted the moment, stepping forward toward Marcellus.

Loki let out a laugh so deep it seemed to ripple through the very air. "The lad came out of nowhere, and suddenly he's a Guard… from judgment to elevation," he scoffed, clearly displeased with the decision.

"It cost us dearly to earn our place as Guards," he added, his voice dipping into reluctant resignation. "But I can't say much against you... you do possess the qualities of one."

Marcellus, unfazed by Loki's protest or Aurora's silent stare, turned to Mirah. "Why did you save me?" he asked, his tone neutral but searching.

"Motherly instinct," Mirah replied softly.

At her words, Loki's expression drained of color. Aurora, too, seemed visibly unsettled. Marcellus, however, simply looked puzzled.

"I once had a child," Mirah began, her voice distant, laced with buried grief. "Born of me and a mortal. I was warned, not to trust too easily, but I clung to the foolish hope that some mortals could be different. Trustworthy. That hope… led to tragedy."

She exhaled shakily, her gaze unfocused as memories surged forward.

"My lover deceived me. He sought the knowledge that could elevate his nation to rival our kind, so he could make weapons of us. Use us as tools of conquest. In time, Deanery, a minor calamity, told me they were wiped out by their own, other mortals, before their ritual could be completed. They became a threat even to themselves."

Tears began to slip down her cheeks, and she covered her eyes with a trembling hand. "As punishment for my betrayal, my child was devoured by Demiurge. And when my child cried out for me... I did nothing."

She leaned in, her face now mere inches from Marcellus, her voice barely above a whisper. "When you were consumed by Demiurge, I felt it again, that cry. And for an instant, it was as if time had rewound. I acted on instinct... I saved you."

Her lips quivered before she spoke again, each syllable steeped in remorse. "Only afterward did I realize what I'd done. To kill a Ranked is the gravest sin... and worse, I branded a mortal with a sigil to anchor him in a world he was never meant to survive."

She paused, her voice cracking. "I told myself it was instinct. That I acted before I could think. But that would be a lie. I saw you getting consumed… and in that moment, I saw him. The son I failed to protect. The child whose cry for help I ignored as Demiurge devoured him."

She looked up, her eyes hollow. "I broke the law not once, but twice. And still, I don't regret it. I accepted the punishment. And now… here we are."

Marcellus smiled, but it was hollow. "I'll be there for you," he said gently. The lie tasted sweet on his tongue.

He had no intention of offering her sanctuary or comfort. She was a resource now. A pawn. A remnant of ancient power he would one day call upon. He hid the calculation behind soft eyes. But his mind was already moving. What truly stirred the Elders? Why let him live? Why grant him a seat? He would play the role, for now. But soon, the game would be his to control.

Marcellus approached Loki with purpose. Gratitude burned quietly in his chest, but so did questions, unspoken truths he could no longer ignore.

"My abilities," he began, his voice steady but searching, "are they truly mine... or were they imbued by you?"

Loki chuckled softly, the sound carrying both amusement and something more ancient beneath. "Mortals typically awaken their abilities around the tender age of four or five," he replied, tone almost reflective. "But the process is slow, instinctive rather than intentional. Since your body was aged unnaturally, the curse within you matured with it, just as it would in any mortal. I merely hastened your understanding." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Though… it seems you possess more than one."

His gaze shifted, slowly, deliberately, to Marcellus, sharp as a blade, as if waiting for a truth to be spoken.

Marcellus was about to respond, but a sudden chill gripped him, and Loki. They both froze.

It was familiar.

From the distance, the sky split open with a violent shriek. Black lightning burst outward with devastating force, each strike releasing on impact, tearing through the air with ferocity.

Marcellus's eyes widened.

A lone figure stood at the center of the storm, plowing through the Lower Calamities with sheer, unrelenting might. They swarmed, they attacked, but every blow they landed was returned tenfold, each strike of the figure birthing more black lightning. The earth trembled beneath the force.

His breath caught. A whisper escaped his lips, fragile with disbelief:

"Mother?"