Ehrek marched forward, each step deliberate and thunderous, sending ripples through the shallow, ink-like waters of the Abyss. Steam coiled off his armor, hissing into the dark as glowing filaments of orange and purple pulsed across the plating—like a dying star gasping through its final breaths.
Ahead, V?rher struggled to rise, one knee trembling beneath him, blood smearing down his chin. But Ehrek didn’t rush. He came to a halt just before him, towering, silent.
With slow, calculated weight, Ehrek drove his sword into the earth beside them—its edge carving through stone like cloth. The sound echoed like a bell of judgment.
But Ehrek was already there.
Towering above him.
No words.
No mercy.
He raised his hand, and with a crack like a thunderclap, his armored fist slammed into V?rher’s jaw—an audible snap echoed across the void as bone fractured instantly. V?rher’s head recoiled violently, blood spattering the rippling water beneath.
His body glowed a desperate red, Tenacity struggling to absorb the trauma.
But it wasn’t enough.
Another strike came from above.
This time, Ehrek brought down his fist like a sledgehammer, smashing into the top of V?rher’s skull. A sickening crunch followed, and V?rher’s body slumped, eyes rolled back, darkness overtaking him.
Ehrek stood still. Steam hissed off his body.
Without a word, he opened a wormhole—a swirling rift back to the battlefield.
From within the Abyss, he reached down, grabbing V?rher by the hair like a lifeless trophy.
And he dragged him.
Dragged him from that cold, wet void, leaving a trail of blood that shimmered unnaturally in the reflectionless water.
The wormhole tore open the sky. The others—Merkmal, Kara, The Director, Seraphina—turned their gaze toward the breach as it formed high above them.
And then they saw it.
Ehrek emerged, towering and unbroken, stepping out onto the hill with V?rher’s unconscious, bloodied form dragging behind him.
Without pause, he hurled the body forward, and V?rher landed hard—slamming into the dirt with a thud that echoed across the field. His form rolled to a stop, broken but breathing, red aura flickering weakly in his body’s attempt to heal.
Ehrek’s armor began to hum, the glow fading back to its usual state. His breath was steady, but his gaze burned.
The battle wasn’t over.
With a simple motion, he summoned another wormhole beside him, and this time pulled from it a massive spear, blackened and silver, wreathed in unstable orange-purple energy. It crackled and pulsed in his grip, its edge impossibly sharp—its presence heavy enough to warp the space around it.
He turned toward the others. His voice finally broke the silence.
“I told you... this wasn’t going to be fair.”
He planted the spear into the ground beside him. The wind howled across the field. Grass bent. The wind howled—and then it screamed.
Kara’s eyes narrowed, the pink glow of her spear reacting instinctively to the tension. Her smile was gone now, replaced by a blank, calculating stare. Seraphina took one step forward, her crimson longsword humming with the soft sound of restrained wrath. The Director’s gun glowed faintly red, spinning its chamber—waiting for the right moment.
Ehrek didn’t wait.
His fingers wrapped around the haft of the spear again—and he moved.
Fast.
The ground exploded beneath his feet as he launched forward, closing the distance between himself and The Director with terrifying speed. She fired—a charged glowing bolt of Determination lancing out—
—but Ehrek tilted his head slightly, and the bolt grazed harmlessly off his helmet.
His shoulder slammed into her chest with enough force to lift her off the ground—bones snapped like kindling under the sheer pressure of the hit as she flew backward, crashing through a half-destroyed wall. Her body ragdolled and then hit the ground, coughing blood and gasping for air.
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Kara reacted next.
With a scream, she launched herself into the air, spear overhead, black and pink lightning spiraling around her. She came down like a meteor—
—but Ehrek caught her mid-fall.
One hand around her throat. The other ripping the spear from her grasp.
She thrashed and kicked, but his grip was like iron. Her claws dug at his gauntlet, drawing sparks but no blood.
Ehrek's voice was low. Cold.
“Your Terror means nothing here”.
And with that, he slammed her into the earth.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The third impact cracked the ground like an earthquake, sending a shockwave in all directions. Her glowing aura flared, trying to regenerate her, but the damage was heavy. Blood dripped from her mouth, and her head lolled for just a moment—before her body twitched and hissed, forcibly knitting itself back together in jagged spurts of pink light.
Seraphina struck from behind, her blade slicing in a wide arc toward his neck.
Ehrek ducked.
The blade missed—but she twisted, spinning on her heel, and sliced across his side.
The armor screeched—sparks and heat flying from the point of impact. It cut. It cut him.
Ehrek growled—then backhanded her across the face so hard her body spun in the air before she skidded across the grass like a stone on water.
“Finally Something interesting.”
He drove his spear into the ground once more. Black tendrils of corrupted magic spiraled out toward him from Kara, spearing outward like living wires, trying to catch Ehrek.
But she wasn’t alone.
A beam of golden light shot from the rubble—The Director, her gun glowing blindingly now, firing without restraint. It hit Ehrek in the side, punching through his armor and sending molten shrapnel flying.
He staggered Just slightly. Kara, bleeding but alive, vanished in a flash of pink static.
And reappeared behind him. Her spear, reformed Her arm, trembling.
She thrust—straight through the gap in his damaged armor.
It got loged in him as his icy body covered the wounds and the damaged armor.
Ehrek roared. A primal, thunderous, inhuman roar.
His entire body surged with power, a burst of raw fusion and fission blasting everyone back—Kara went flying, her body twisting midair like a broken doll. Seraphina raised her sword in time to block—but the wave still flung her back. The Director was shielded only by a summoned green wall, which cracked and shattered on impact.
And still, Ehrek stood. Wounded and icing.
He pulled the spear from his own side, inspecting it for a moment—then turned his gaze to the trio slowly recovering from the dirt, bloodied and barely standing.
“You still breathe. Good.”
The battlefield quieted once more, save for the hissing of steam and the soft, wet rasp of V?rher’s body trying to heal in the grass behind them.
Ehrek stepped forward.
“I was hoping for a real fight.”
From the distance—a distant crack of shattering air tore through the tension. Rising dust and flames.
Rück stepped forward first. A white cloak billowed, scorched and ragged, his face solemn. Behind him came Merkmal, his glowing runes tattooed and pulsing with rhythm, eyes burning like twin suns.
Ehrek turned. Two more.
He let the ice spread from his side without care.
Rück raised one hand, eyes fixed on V?rher’s still body.
“You’ve done enough.”
Merkmal flicked his wrist, colorful essence and rotating around his arms like celestial rings.
Ehrek chuckled—slow, guttural.
Merkmal moved first—royal blue light erupted around him as he warped space, blinking forward in a blur, every step a spatial tear. He lashed out with a glowing blue open palm, and a shockwave of inverted gravity crashed into Ehrek’s chest, bending his armor inward, contorting the force of his own body against itself.
Ehrek staggered, but his arm was already moving.
He threw the spear like a javelin—Merkmal twisted to dodge, but it clipped the side of his bones.
Rück was already mid-incantation. His voice thundered and commanding.
“LIGHTNING.”
The sky above turned a bruised violet. Purple Lightning, split the heavens. Rück’s hands crackled with code-energy, and he slammed both palms to the ground.
The lightning blasted through Ehrek’s armor as the Armor began trying to glow orange and purple midway through but it was too late to stop the attack.
Ehrek screamed in fury, his body trembling under the weight. strained—his gauntlets cracked. The lightning held for a moment longer—until he forced himself out of his by pure forc. But the moment bought only a little time.
Seraphina was already back on her feet, blood trailing down her face.
Kara stood next to her, breathing heavily, Terror rippling around her like a living storm.
The Director crouched at a distance, reloading her weapon, its barrel trembling with yellow heat.
Merkmal, , raised both hands. “TRAIT—MIRRORED SEVERANCE.”
A dome of distorted space erupted around Ehrek. Inside it, his traits from the armor no longer worked, only able to rely on his abilities as a conduit.
Ehrek charged anyway.
He burst forward—and was met with a blast of pure crimson flame from Rück, the blast flaring wide.
He twisted—and a trait version of Merkmsl struck from the side.
He blocked Kara’s spear—and he was pierced by the Trait Merkmal in his shoulder.
He reached for The Director—who shot through his knee, the bullet infused with V?rher’s dormant Tenacity and her Determination, refusing to be denied.
He fell to one knee.
The field was a storm of color, blood, and magic.
Rück stepped forward again. Merkmal joined at his side. Kara and Seraphina stood ready. As well as The Director.
Ehrek whispered, trying to regain full composure “This…” he rasped, icy frosting over the helmet, “...is more like it.”
And with a growl, his body began to mutate again. The armor warped, metal creaking, spikes twisting out from his shoulders.
as he pushed out his hand and created a wormhole beneather Merkmal as he tried to expand it to get all of them Merkmal pushed out with his trait abilities flinging everyone away while he fell down into the Abyss with Ehrek following shortly after.