Subsection: "The Price of Victory"
Hatku stood alone in the battlefield, his sword dripping with the blood of the woman he once believed was his future. Lyra's body lay still, her once-piercing eyes now dim. The wind carried the scent of charred earth and betrayal.
The silence that followed was unnatural.
The sky darkened instantly.
Above him, a blinding light pierced through the clouds. The Universal Gods had witnessed it all.
"You have fulfilled the first phase of your fate, Hatku."
The voice wasn't spoken—it was delivered, directly into his mind. Ancient, emotionless, and vast.
"Your next battle has been chosen. In seven sunfalls, you will face the beast of the Nether Realm—Tretrabaxterri."
Hatku's stomach twisted. The name alone sent stories spiraling through his memories. A creature of unspeakable power—born in shadows, fed by the fear of dying gods, said to have slain entire realms single-handedly.
He was still bleeding.
Still reeling.
Still in mourning.
And now, they wanted more.
"You cannot refuse."
"You cannot flee."
"You are bound."
The light vanished. The sky cleared. But nothing inside him did.
Subsection: "Preparation"
For the next seven days, Hatku trained like a man already dead. His sword swings were heavier. His breathing shorter. His heart… empty.
He tried to restore his focus, but the curse on his mother throbbed in his veins like poison. His nights were haunted by her monstrous shrieks. By Lyra's final breath. By the knowledge that if he lost this next battle, everything he fought for would end.
His powers, his path, his mother's only hope—all gone.
But there was no backing out. The UG's will was final.
Subsection: "The Nether Arena"
Hatku stepped onto the field of nightmares.
The Nether Arena wasn't made of ground—it was made of ruin. Rivers of molten stone slithered through shattered terrain. Black spikes jutted from the ground like the bones of a fallen world. Screams echoed in the wind—not of the living, but of warriors past, trapped in an eternal loop of agony.
Across from him, a hellgate exploded in a swirling vortex of blood smoke and fire.
And Tretrabaxterri emerged.
Eight crimson eyes blinked in uneven sync. Its skin writhed like it was made of worms and bones, pulsing with dark matter. It had no single form—just limbs and mass shifting constantly, as if chaos itself were wearing armor. Two tails spiked with hooked bone tips lashed through the air behind it, dripping shadow venom that hissed as it hit the ground.
The beast roared—like ten-thousand beasts screaming at once.
Hatku's heart thundered.
He charged anyway.
Subsection: "The Longest Battle"
Clash. Boom. Scream. Blood.
Hatku's sword met claws first—sparks flew. The impact nearly dislocated his shoulder. The beast slammed a forelimb into him, sending him skidding backward, his armor scraping against obsidian and cutting into his skin.
Tretrabaxterri lunged, jaws snapping. Hatku raised his Emerald Shield just in time to block—but the force cracked the magical barrier, sending emerald shards flying. He rolled aside and slashed across the creature's leg, spilling black acidic blood that hissed as it struck the ground.
He tried to gain distance—summoning Flame Spires to erupt from the floor.
The beast leapt over them, claws glowing with Nether energy, and landed on him with all its weight. Its tails slammed down—one pierced his thigh, the other cracked against his ribs.
Hatku screamed.
His vision blurred. But he refused to die.
With one good hand, he triggered Blade Mirage, creating six clones of himself that lunged in a spiral. They slashed its back, neck, and legs.
Tretrabaxterri howled and twisted violently—its spinal whip unraveling from its back and flailing like a living serpent. It decapitated two illusions instantly. One whip wrapped around Hatku's ankle and slammed him into a jagged pillar.
Blood. So much blood.
He coughed and reached inside himself—pulling every ounce of power he'd gained in over twenty battles.
Shadow Lure. Thunder Fang. Gravity Collapse. Ice Brand.
He chained attacks with speed and desperation. His Neon Cyclone Slash carved glowing wounds across the monster's chest. His Obsidian Thrust pierced its belly. The beast staggered for the first time.
He saw fear. Real fear.
Hatku leapt high, sword burning with his final aura.
"EMERALD NOVA SLASH!"
The sky cracked.
He came down, blade first—driving the full force of his power into Tretrabaxterri's exposed chest.
A massive explosion of emerald light swallowed the arena.
Silence followed.
The beast… collapsed.
Panting, bleeding from everywhere, Hatku fell to his knees beside the corpse.
But the gods weren't done, as they found it unreal for a mere mortal to defeat the beast so, they believed he had cheated.
Subsection: "Judgment"
The air changed.
The heat vanished. The sounds stopped.
A divine pressure pushed down on Hatku like the sky itself was falling.
A voice boomed:
"The fight is over. And so is your power."
He tried to move. Tried to speak.
He couldn't.
He looked down at his sword—it crumbled to ash in his grip.
All of his powers vanished.
One by one.
Like candles snuffed out in a storm.
Emerald Shield: Gone.
Neon Cyclone: Gone.
Gravity Step: Gone.
Birthright Fire: Gone.
He screamed—but no sound came.
His body collapsed.
The arena darkened.
He was no longer a fighter. Not a warrior. Not a threat. Just a shell. A man broken beneath a god's command.