The roar of the crowd was a physical weight, a tangible pressure that pressed against the chest. Fifty thousand students screamed for blood, their voices merging into a single, deafening drone. Above, fireworks exploded, painting the sky in Aamon’s colours—Gold and White—showering the arena in artificial starlight.
In the centre of the ring, Lack Flameheart stood adjusting his gloves. The crushing weight of the conspiracy evaporated, leaving his body dangerously, unnaturally light.
"We did it," he whispered to the Light Devil. "She drank the fake. The catalyst is inert. She's safe”.
You’re a good guy, Lack, the Devil said, sounding unusually sincere. Stupid, but good.
"And now," Lack looked up at the VIP box where High Councilman Aamon sat like a king. "I just have to knock her out gently. Then we storm the box”.
The Announcer.
"And now! The Pride of the Healing Faculty! The Vessel of the Moon! SARAH!"
The gates groaned open. Lack smiled behind his mask, muscles tensing to catch a scared, depowered girl.
Lack’s smile dying instantly.
Sarah floated out. She didn't walk; she drifted, suspended by a terrifying surplus of power. She operated as an absolute, collapsing star. Her skin was no longer translucent; it was cracking like porcelain, revealing blinding beams of pure, unadulterated light underneath.
Her eyes were gone—replaced by two pools of molten gold.
The air around her screamed. The stone floor beneath her feet turned to magma instantly.
"Sarah?" Lack took a step back.
- System Warning: Energy Signature Critical.
- Vessel Status: Overload (200%).
- Corruption: Forced Evolution.
Lack, the Light Devil’s voice went cold. That’s not the fake serum. That’s the Pure Concentrate.
"I swapped it!" Lack shouted, his voice cracking. "I gave her the fake!"
Someone swapped it back.
[Scene Change: The VIP Box]
Aamon leaned forward, his golden goblet crushing in his grip.
"Magnificent," Aamon whispered. "But... unstable. The output is too high. She isn't ripening; she's going supernova”.
[Scene Change: The Arena]
Sarah raised a hand. She didn't speak. The voice that tore from her throat wasn't human. It was the grinding of tectonic plates.
"Purge."
"Unique Ability: Lunar Cataclysm."
BOOM.
A shockwave of golden gravity slammed into Lack. It wasn't a wind; it was an omnidirectional crushing force. The sky itself collapsed.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Gah!" Lack was thrown backward, hitting the energy barrier hard enough to crack it. He slid down, gasping. His ribs—healed only weeks ago—groaned under the pressure.
"Sarah!" Lack yelled, standing up shakily. "Fight it! It's me! Lack!"
Sarah didn't react. She floated closer, the heat radiating from her melting the arena barriers. She raised her hand again. A miniature moon—a sphere of condensed light and gravity—formed above her palm.
"Divine Art: Falling Star."
She threw it.
- Trajectory: Impact imminent.
- Logical Solution: Dodge.
- Illogical Consequence: If you dodge, the blast radius (50m) hits the audience.
- Alternative: Attack her.
- Illogical Consequence: If you attack a pressurized vessel, she detonates.
Lack hesitated. His target lock anchored to her face—the cracks spreading, the golden tears vaporising before they hit her chin.
I can't hurt her. Paralysis locked his joints. I promised to save her.
Move, kid! The Devil screamed.
Lack didn't move. He stood there, frozen by his own morality.
The sphere hit him.
CRUNCH.
It wasn't just physical damage. The Divine Energy burned his soul. The gravity tried to fold his body in half.
Lack was buried in a crater of molten stone. His mask was shattered, revealing his bloodied face. He couldn't breathe. The weight of the Moon was on his chest.
Sarah floated above him. She prepared a second sphere. Larger. Brighter. This one wasn't for him. It was for the whole arena.
"Erase," the Moon God commanded through her lips.
Panic flickered in his eyes. "She's losing containment! If she detonates now, she takes the Divine Essence with her!”.
Cut back to: Lack. His focus shifted to the absolute death hovering above him. I failed. The mathematical reality settled over him.
You didn't fail, the Devil hissed. You just forgot that villains don't play by your rules. Now get up!
"I can't," Lack wheezed. "It's too heavy. It's a Unique Ability."
[System Alert: Karmic Energy Detected (1%).] [Resistance Activated.]
The crushing weight on his chest lightened—just a fraction. It wasn't enough to negate the damage, but it was enough to let him move his pinky finger. Then his hand. Then his arm.
The "Absolute" command of the Moon God had a 2% margin of error. A glitch.
Lack grit his teeth. He forced his broken body to obey.
- Illogical Logic Idea: Orbital Redirection.
- Premise: If I can't stop the explosion... I have to change the direction.
He stood up. His legs screamed. Sarah threw the second sphere.
Lack didn't block. He didn't attack her. He stepped into the sphere's path.
"Mixture Art: Photonic Resonance."
He didn't try to destroy the sphere. He vibrated his own body to match the frequency of the attack. He became a tuning fork.
He caught the sphere. His hands burned down to the bone. The pain was blinding. But the sphere didn't detonate on impact. It resonated with him.
"I won't... let you... kill them," Lack snarled, blood spraying from his lips.
With a roar that tore his vocal cords, refusing to target Sarah, Lack twisted his body and threw the sphere straight up.
Straight up. Toward the forcefield. Toward the sky.
BOOM.
The sphere detonated in the upper atmosphere, shattering the arena's dome and turning the sky a violent, blinding white. The shockwave knocked everyone in the stadium flat.
[System Record: Status Update]
- Health: 90% -> 2%
- Status: Critical. Armour Disintegrated.
Lack fell to his knees. His arms were charred black. His health was in the single digits.
But Sarah was still floating. Still glowing. Still charging. And Lack couldn't move anymore.
"She's going to self-destruct," Lack whispered, his attention anchored to the widening cracks on her skin. "She can't hold the power".
Aamon made a decision. "If I cannot harvest the fruit," Aamon growled, his eyes glowing with cold logic, "I will not let it rot".
Aamon raised his hand. He simply pointed a single finger at the exploding girl. He wasn't aiming at Lack. He was aiming at Sarah.
"Sanitation Protocol."
He was going to kill her before she exploded, to salvage the God Fragment from her corpse.
Aamon’s finger locked onto Sarah. The girl, who had sacrificed everything just to protect her brother, was now merely a target.
He had one move left. One suicidal, illogical move.
"Devil," Lack whispered. "Give me everything. Even the reserve."
You'll die, the Devil warned.
"If I don't," Lack smiled through the blood, "I'm not the hero she thinks I am."
? ? ?
[System Record: Character Progression]
- Health: Critical (2%).
- Current Situation: Aamon is attacking Sarah. Sarah is exploding. Lack is in the middle.