Lord_Turtle_the_first

  He lifted his burning gaze and peered at the sky. A silvery comet streaked through the heavens, its tail splitting the skies with a gleaming arc of light.

  The maelstrom of metal around him froze, as if time itself had stilled at the sight of her.

  Cale turned slowly, his focus locking onto the metal-cd figure descending toward him.

  The metal mage's white armor gleamed, intricate glowing runes pulsing across its surface like veins of molten energy. It was a masterpiece—an artifact of war and power.

  But he did not care for the armor.

  It was nothing more than a trinket.

  His focus was on the soul within.

  Her soul.

  His lips parted slightly, a whisper escaping into the air—

  "Strong."

  The woman hovering before him hesitated.

  "Cale?"

  Her voice reached him, slicing through the heavy stillness like a knife.

  He knew that voice.

  Isa.

  For a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Memories flickered at the edges of his mind, but they did not bring warmth.

  His fist clenched at his side. When he finally spoke, his voice carried through the air like a decree of judgment.

  "Did you know what they were doing underground?"

  Isa's entire body tensed. A deep, primal chill crawled up her spine. The hairs on her arms stood on end.

  It was not the question that terrified her.

  It was his voice.

  It did not travel through the air—

  It reached directly into her soul.

  The weight of it pressed against her very being, heavy as an unshakable truth.

  She swallowed, the air thick around her. "No. I had no idea."

  A lie.

  A single lie whispered into the storm.

  He looked at her, his burning eyes locking onto hers, searing through her defenses. The bluish-white glow within them flickered, not with rage—but with something deeper, something unrelenting, absolute.

  A cold, spectral fire.

  His right arm shifted.

  Metal rippled, reshaping itself, folding and extending into something deadly, absolute. In an instant, his hand was gone—repced by a bde of gleaming silver, its edges humming with unseen power.

  With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised it—

  And pointed it directly at her.

  His next word was not a shout.

  It was not a scream.

  It was a judgment, spoken with the finality of a death sentence.

  "Liar."

  The battlefield quaked beneath the sheer weight of their presence, the air thickening with raw, uncontrolled power. The ground itself trembled as metal fragments hovered in midair, waiting, as if sentient, for the commands of the two warriors who stood at the heart of this storm.

  Cale stood motionless at its core, his form wreathed in an eerie glow, his bde-arm—once flesh, now a fusion of steel and spectral fire—gleaming ominously. The weapon pulsed with an ethereal radiance that devoured the light around it, shadows stretching unnaturally across the ruins. Opposite him, Isa hovered with practiced grace, her white armor a beacon of brilliance, glowing runes inscribed upon it pulsating like a heartbeat. Dust and debris danced wildly in the air around them, caught in the tempest of their cshing auras.

  "This doesn’t have to end like this, Cale!" Isa called out, her voice raw with desperation.

  Cale’s response was silence. His eyes burned—a cold, merciless blue-white fme, flickering like a spectral inferno. Without a word, he lunged forward, the metal beneath him twisting and rising in jagged formations, forging a path toward Isa as he surged forward like a specter of vengeance.

  Isa reacted instantly, clenching her fists as fractured weapons, shattered armor, and torn remains of the battlefield rose around her. The debris spiraled, coalescing into a protective vortex, shielding her from his approach. Her aura fred with celestial intensity as she propelled herself toward him, a comet streaking through the chaos.

  Their collision was cataclysmic.

  A shockwave of metal and raw energy exploded outward, obliterating the ground beneath them, sending cascading ripples of destruction in all directions. The air itself cracked with the impact, and for a brief moment, the battlefield was consumed by an all-devouring storm of shrapnel, smoke, and fire.

  Through the chaos, Isa twisted midair, unching a barrage of razor-edged shards, each one imbued with the full force of her will. The metal shrieked as it cut through the air, seeking flesh. But Cale was faster.

  With a mere flick of his hand, his own metal responded, shifting and forming a seamless, impenetrable barrier. The shards rebounded uselessly, cttering to the ground. Without hesitation, he retaliated, extending his free hand as bckened tendrils of molten steel erupted from beneath Isa, twisting and grasping, trying to ensnare her.

  Isa spun, barely evading the metal tendrils as she soared higher. Her armor rippled, shifting seamlessly into twin forearm bdes. With a defiant roar, she dove, cutting through the air, her bdes seeking the core of his being.

  Cale met her in kind. His bde-arm shifted, elongating into a massive cleaver of silver and fire. Their weapons cshed with a deafening resonance, a celestial chorus of steel upon steel, sparks cascading around them like falling stars. Their eyes locked—hers filled with hope, his a void of cold certainty.

  "Cale, stop! What happened to you?" Isa demanded through gritted teeth, pressing forward with all her strength.

  Cale’s voice was eerily calm. "I woke up."

  With a sudden, explosive force, Cale sent her hurtling back. Before she could recover, the metal beneath her erupted, forming chains that shed out, coiling around her limbs and dragging her toward the earth. Isa struggled, her runes fring as she fought against the iron grip of his will.

  "Enough!" she cried, unleashing a shockwave of pure force. The chains shattered, disintegrating into fragments as she hovered above the ground, breathing heavily.

  Cale advanced, unshaken, the metal around him bending and shifting, shaping itself into jagged, floating bdes that swirled like a hurricane of death. Each step he took echoed with finality, the earth itself quaking beneath his presence.

  "You cannot defeat me," he stated, his voice carrying the weight of undeniable truth.

  Isa refused to accept it. With a desperate cry, she unched herself at him again, twin bdes sshing through the air, every stroke aimed to break through the impenetrable defense he had become.

  But it was futile.

  Every strike met his bde, every attack deflected with precise, effortless efficiency. He was not merely fighting—he was dominating.

  Isa’s breath came in ragged gasps. Realization settled over her like an ice-cold wave. This was not Cale. Not anymore.

  Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Isa reached out with her power, lifting fragments of shattered swords, broken armor, and twisted metal debris from the scarred earth around her. Closing her fist tightly, she compressed the metal until it glowed molten-hot, forming a bzing nce. Without hesitation, she rushed forward, driving the nce straight toward her opponent.

  Cale, unmoved, met her assault head-on. His spectral fmes roared brighter, eyes bzing with intensity as metal surged forth from the ground, shaping itself into a molten nce identical to Isa’s. With blinding speed, he matched her charge, their nces cshing like fiery comets in the heart of the battlefield. The resulting explosion erupted outward, carving a massive crater beneath their feet and scattering debris in every direction.

  Isa was hurled back by the force, skidding painfully across the ground. Struggling to her feet, she stared in disbelief. Cale stood perfectly unharmed, his nce intact, glowing menacingly, while her own weapon y shattered at her feet.

  Exhaustion began to cim her, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Realization dawned on her, chilling her to the core. This was not the Cale she had trained, cared for, and watched grow. This was something else, something beyond her power, beyond human comprehension.

  "Cale, please," she cried out, desperation gripping her voice. "This isn’t you! Remember who you are!"

  For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Cale’s eyes, a glimmer of recognition, quickly extinguished by the return of cold indifference.

  "You knew what they were doing to the children. Tristan died because of you," Cale accused, his voice hollow yet heavy with betrayal. "You helped kill him."

  With a devastating wave of his hand, he summoned countless shards of metal from every corner of the battlefield, merging them into enormous bdes that hovered ominously around him. With a single, effortless gesture, he unched the colossal weapons at Isa.

  She dived desperately aside, narrowly evading death as bdes tore through the earth. Isa hit the ground hard, scraping and rolling, her strength waning with each passing moment. She knew then, with terrifying certainty, that Cale was lost to her, unreachable by any means she possessed.

  Gathering what little strength remained, Isa formed two immense glowing swords from the metal at her disposal.

  Screaming defiantly, she lunged at Cale in one final, desperate attack.

  But as their bdes met, the disparity in power became brutally clear. Cale’s bde-arm, reinforced with spectral fmes, shattered her defenses effortlessly, reducing her weapons to fragments. In an instant, his free hand shot forward, seizing her throat in an iron grip, lifting her helplessly into the air.

  Isa struggled weakly, eyes wide with horror and pain, meeting Cale’s unfeeling gaze. She gasped desperately for air as his grip tightened.

  "Cale… please…" she choked out, her voice barely audible.

  "It’s too te," Cale replied coldly, the finality of his judgment echoing around them. "Liar."

  Without hesitation, he plunged his bde-arm deep into her abdomen. Isa’s body convulsed, her eyes filled with shock and agony as the spectral fire consumed her from within, burning her soul with unimaginable torment. The pain was overwhelming, erasing every coherent thought, leaving only a silent scream of despair as darkness swiftly overtook her.

  She colpsed lifelessly to the ground, consciousness slipping away, her mind offering only a single, broken whisper of regret:

  "I’m sorry."

  Cale stood silently over her fallen form, his gaze cold and distant, the fmes in his eyes dimming gradually, leaving behind emptiness and lingering sorrow. Turning slowly, the metal around him dispersed, dissolving seamlessly back into the earth.

  "It’s time to go back to sleep," he murmured quietly, stepping away from the devastation.

  "Move her carefully," the old metal mage commanded sharply, his voice tight with barely suppressed urgency. His dark armor glistened ominously beneath the pale glow of the moon. His gaze flickered anxiously toward Isa’s unconscious form.

  "How did our strongest mage end up like this?" he muttered bitterly under his breath, frustration and disbelief intertwining in his tone.

  Two soldiers bore Isa gently on a stretcher, their expressions strained as they tried not to worsen her already critical condition. The old mage’s eyes lingered on the brutal wound piercing her abdomen—an unnatural injury that refused to close, bleeding faintly with an eerie, persistent trickle.

  Isa’s face was pale, nearly translucent, her breaths shallow and uneven, each one seeming to cost her dearly. Her life hung precariously by the thinnest of threads, a faint heartbeat stubbornly clinging to existence.

  "She should have healed herself," the old mage whispered, his voice carrying an undercurrent of bewilderment. "What dark magic did he use that prevents the flesh from knitting itself back together?"

  After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached their destination. The heavy iron door swung open with a groan, revealing a stark white room beyond—cold, sterile, and illuminated by harsh, clinical lighting. At the room’s heart stood a solitary surgical table, surrounded meticulously by strange devices, countless tubes, shimmering potions, and arcane instruments whose purpose eluded even seasoned veterans.

  A group of white-robed men and women awaited their arrival, their expressions grave and unreadable. They moved quickly, silently directing the soldiers to pce Isa carefully onto the surgical table.

  As the soldiers withdrew, their footsteps echoed softly through the oppressive silence of the room. The heavy door closed behind them with a resonant finality, sealing Isa within the stark, cold chamber—a chamber of hope and dread, healing and mystery.

  The old mage lingered briefly, casting one final gnce toward Isa, his face lined with deep worry and helplessness. The door sealed shut, leaving behind only silence and the haunting uncertainty of what awaited them next.

  Isa's eyelids fluttered open, her vision swimming in a blur of harsh white light. A dull, unrelenting throb pounded inside her skull, her body a sluggish weight against the sterile sheets. Slowly, the world around her sharpened, revealing a white room—cold, clinical, impersonal. The air smelled of antiseptics and old magic.

  She shifted slightly, and pain exploded in her abdomen. A sharp, agonizing reminder of what had been done to her. Her hand trembled as she raised it, every movement draining her of what little strength remained, until her fingers brushed against the wound.

  Cale’s bde had pierced her there.

  She could feel the stitches pulling against swollen flesh, the unnatural way her skin resisted healing. Instinctively, she reached inward, calling upon her elemental power, willing the wound to close.

  Nothing happened.

  The magic inside her remained unresponsive, severed from the natural rhythm of her body. She tried again, forcing her will against whatever invisible chains bound her regeneration—but it was gone.

  Cale had done this to her. He had taken away her ability to heal, left his mark carved into her very flesh. A punishment. A reminder that she had lied to him.

  Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. Another one suffered because of her. Just like it always happened. Just like before.

  The sharp creak of a door broke the silence.

  Isa turned her head as the heavy door swung open, her muscles tensing despite her weakness. A figure in simple white robes stepped forward, moving with deliberate, measured steps. His presence alone was enough to command attention. His robes were pristine, untouched by battle or grief, his face composed in that infuriating mask of serene detachment.

  She clenched her teeth. Voz.

  Or, as he preferred to be called within the walls of that cursed castle—the Director.

  "How are you feeling?" Voz inquired smoothly, his tone perfectly neutral, betraying nothing.

  If Isa hadn't known him, hadn't spent years watching the effortless way he wove deception, she might have believed he actually cared about her well-being. But she knew better. She knew that beneath that calm exterior lurked only calcution.

  "What do you want?" she rasped, the movement of her breath sending fresh agony through her abdomen.

  Voz did not react to her hostility. If anything, he regarded her with mild amusement, as if speaking to a cornered animal too weak to sh out.

  "Just a small peek into your mind. Nothing more, I promise," he said, stepping closer. "We need to understand how you ended up in this state."

  Isa felt cold dread coil in her gut, but she forced herself to nod. "Just do it. Then leave me alone."

  Voz moved beside her bed, pcing his hand lightly on her temple. His touch was cool, impersonal, but what followed was far worse.

  The moment he closed his eyes, she felt it—his magic burrowing into her mind like fingers digging through wet earth. She wanted to resist, to fight back, but she was too weak. He sifted through her memories effortlessly, dragging them to the surface, unearthing each moment of her battle with Cale.

  Then, suddenly, her vision darkened. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  A voice, distant and quiet, whispered into the void.

  "Just a few more sessions, and we’ll rearrange your memories. Soon, you won’t feel anything for that boy, Cale. You don’t need those emotions anymore."

  The words barely registered before darkness swallowed her whole.

  Voz straightened, smoothing his robes as he stepped away from the unconscious woman. He had seen enough.

  He turned swiftly, exiting the room with quiet precision. His steps carried him down a long corridor until he reached another heavy door. Pushing it open, he stepped inside.

  The chamber was dark, the air thick with the scent of burning incense and aged magic. The only illumination came from a weakly glowing magic stone embedded in the floor, casting long, wavering shadows along the walls. At the center of the room, seated upon the cold stone, was a lone figure.

  Voz halted, waiting.

  The man before him did not move, his back still turned, long silver hair cascading past his shoulders, an eerie contrast against the dim light. The only sound was the faint humming of runes inscribed in a perfect circle around him, their glow barely perceptible.

  Minutes passed in silence.

  Then, slowly, the man raised his right hand.

  Metal groaned as fingers flexed—a prosthetic limb, arcane-forged, crafted from enchanted bcksteel and embedded with veins of pulsing crimson energy. The glow within them fred brighter, reacting to something unseen.

  Voz inclined his head respectfully and detailed Isa’s memories of her battle against Cale.

  Silence.

  Then, at st, the man spoke.

  "You may leave now."

  Voz bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the chamber as quietly as he had entered. The heavy door swung shut behind him with a dull thud.

  Alone in the darkness, the man’s metallic fingers clenched, the metal groaning under the strain. The crimson veins embedded within his prosthetic pulsed with violent intensity, casting fractured shadows against the stone walls.

  His lips parted, his voice a whisper of prophecy and dread.

  "The cataclysm… has finally arrived."