Chapter Seven: I Am the Storm That Is Approaching

  After minutes of pondering, visualizing the form, and attempting to shape it...

  Tayren sat within his Soul’s Void on a chair—one of those old-fashioned café types. He was humming under his breath:

  "I am the storm that is approaching..."

  "Provoking bck clouds in isotion..."

  He smiled. He’d seen the video once because of his grandfather, but the song was truly great.

  Anyway, he was gd to finally get a chance to do that.

  He stood up, and the chair dissolved behind him.

  ---

  Moments ter, Tayren gathered himself and attempted to shape a sword.

  He kept trying, and when the intricate formation finally succeeded, he swung it.

  For some reason, unfamiliar combat motions were etched into his muscles—an elegant style he had never learned.

  "A style designed by the Echo King for his son, the Prince of the Void, and trained into him...

  Well then. Lovely."

  "Seems like I need to master this thing and funt it when this trial is over."

  That said, the sword itself was awful. Its bance was off, its bde cked sharpness.

  "But that’s fine… it’s my first attempt."

  "Cough… the first successful one, anyway. Doesn’t matter."

  After a short while of shaping trials, he sighed, stopped, and decided to leave.

  He and Iron were about to start moving again.

  Before exiting, he thought:

  "The pn is ready now... only the execution remains."

  ---

  Of course, Tayren wasn’t stupid enough to try forming a second core and begin world travel, even under the protection of a great swordsman like Iron.

  He needed to get out of this trial as fast as possible.

  The trial was just… a rerun of fate.

  But he had recently realized that the Void didn’t abide by natural ws like fate or time.

  Technically, you wouldn’t age even after thousands of years in here—

  if you survived the Void beasts… and the psychological torment, of course.

  This pce was literal hell.

  And Tayren could not—and would not—compin, even if he wanted to.

  Not because he didn’t want to…

  But because of that brutal fw of his.

  "Damn it..."

  Even if he formed a second core, he doubted Iron would let him leave.

  Hmm... as you know, tearing through the fabric of space to travel between worlds takes hours of focus—

  just for someone at Core Level One with two cores.

  So the only viable option... was to py chess.

  And he already had a fwless strategy.

  A wicked smile curled his lips.

  ---

  "My lord, let’s go. I’ve gathered everything we need."

  "Alright, Iron. Listen… Iron, can you request they bring white roses?"

  Iron was puzzled for a second—then remembered. He nodded with a touch of sadness:

  "Of course, my lord."

  Tayren suppressed a devilish grin and faked a sorrowful expression:

  "Thank you… for understanding."

  ---

  author:

  VERGIL

  I AM THE STORMMMM THATTTT IS APPROACHING

  PROVOKING BLLLLACK CLOUDS IN ISOLATION

  I AM RECLAIMER OF MY NAME

  BORN IN FLAME.