The Lost Kingdom | Nova Terra Chronicles

The world seemed to slow as Brant laid there--wounded, bleeding, and barely breathing. Solira knelt beside him, cradling his broken form in her arms. Her smile trembled, painted with pain and fire, as she whispered something Brant couldn't quite catch. But then--

A flash.

A crack.

The scream of lightning.

A bolt of divine electricity shot through Solira's temple, exiting with a sickening burst of red mist.

Blood sprayed across Brant's face.

Her body collapsed forward--limp and lifeless.

"SOLIRA!" Veltra's scream pierced the battlefield. Orin echoed it, enraged. Lysa didn't even speak--her hands were already on her rifle. She opened fire with relentless fury, emptying every charged round she had into the gods across the field.

But Brant... Brant only stared.

His fingers shook as they reached for Solira's hand--warm one second, already cold in the next. He pulled it to his lips, trembling.

"I vowed to protect you," he whispered, tears mixing with the blood on his face. "And I failed... but now... I vow to redeem you, my Darling."

At that moment, Brant's body sparked--embers igniting at his wound as it stitched itself shut with fire and smoke. His sword trembled across the battlefield, then launched itself into his hand, reshaping and reforging into a mighty, radiant greatsword--The Flamebound Blade--its hilt glowing with newly formed letters:

SOLIRA.

As Brant stood, the very sand beneath him scorched black. Fire danced around him like a halo, and his form shifted--his armor molten, blazing, transcendent. He was no longer Brant. He was Pyrelux, The Emberbound Vow.

"Orin," Pyrelux spoke, his voice echoing like the roar of an inferno. "One final push, with all your strength."

Orin, sweat-stained and shaking, clenched his shield and nodded. With a bellow of defiance, he surged forward--his massive shield crashing into Mars with all the strength his war-torn body could offer. The impact staggered the war god, just enough.

Pyrelux blinked forward in a burst of light and flame, appearing behind Mars in a flash. But instead of striking, he pivoted--locking swords with Neptune, who'd rushed to reinforce.

Trident and greatsword collided, sparks of fire and water spraying out like clashing storms. Neptune gritted his teeth, jumped backwards, and sent a tidal wave roaring toward Pyrelux. But Pyrelux ignited his entire body, unleashing flames so intense they turned the ocean wave into steam.

Through the blinding vapor, he dashed again--unstoppable.

Behind Neptune, Pluto strolled forward, summoning a massive beast with jagged jaws. Pyrelux didn't even flinch. He kicked the summon square in the chest--launching it backward with enough force to create a crater--then reengaged Neptune.

Pluto stepped in to support with his staff, but Pyrelux grinned.

"Just like you," he whispered to Neptune, sword locked in his trident, "I'm not alone."

Veltra twirled into view like a whirlwind, her staff spinning faster than the eye could follow. She slammed it into Neptune's flank, knocking him off-balance and sending him sliding backward across the scorched arena.

Pyrelux turned his sights on Pluto, the flame in his eyes now glowing white.

With one swift, perfect swing, he cleaved Pluto's summon in half. Another strike followed--and Pluto himself fell, split across the chest in one clean cut.

Meanwhile, Orin stood trembling, his shield-arm quaking from exhaustion. Across from him, Mars--still upright--glared at the battered tank. But he didn't move.

Neither did Orin. He dragged his shield forward, inch by inch, steps heavy as stone.

Mars finally stepped toward him, weapon raised.

And Orin.. simply walked.

He raised his sword, slowly and deliberately.

And poked Mars in the chest.

Mars blinked.

Then--his body split in half. A perfect cut, so sharp and seamless it hadn't even registered until now. Pyrelux's attack on Mars wasn't just for show or to get behind him, but that was when he struck.

Gasps echoed from the stands.

The once-dominant gods were crumbling. For the first time in the Arena Games, FLAMMA was on the offensive. They weren't just holding their own--

They were winning.

Flames danced and Thunder cracked. And with Solira's name etched into flame, Pyrelux's vengeance had just begun.