Echoes of Blood and Lightning

Chapter Four: Echoes of Blood and Lightning

As chaos erupted outside the castle walls, a deafening storm of screams and steel rang through Atlas. Issac raced through the grand halls, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. His breaths came in sharp bursts, the cold air of the corridor biting at his lungs. Dust trickled from the trembling ceiling with every distant blast. His mind screamed one thing: Find Klaus.

After several frantic turns, he spotted him—Klaus—slouched against a marble pillar. His cousin's figure was gaunt in the dim light, eyes wide open but lost, muttering under his breath while gnawing on his fingernails. He looked broken… or worse, unhinged.

"Klaus… Klaus? Klaus!" Issac's voice rose with each call as he approached slowly, wary yet desperate. Still, Klaus didn't respond—just kept muttering, completely detached from the world unraveling around them.

Without warning, Issac's fist collided with Klaus's face, the sound cracking through the silence. Klaus dropped to the floor, clutching his jaw, finally jolted back to the present.

"Snap out of it, you fool!" Issac growled, standing over him. "You almost gave Lena a heart attack. Atlas has been compromised, and my father is out there, fighting for his life!"

Klaus looked up at him now—eyes blank but slowly refocusing, as though swimming through a fog. The haze in his mind didn't have time to clear before another voice erupted behind them.

"I saw what you did there, Issac!" Idris's voice cut through the corridor like a blade.

Issac turned just in time to dodge Idris's incoming fist. "What the hell do you mean 'what I did'?" he snapped, sidestepping to the left.

Another swing. Issac responded on instinct—his Zone flared, white light flickering in his pupils as he shoved Idris back. The air grew heavy with static tension.

Idris rolled to his feet, his own Zone igniting. His eyes burned with the same brilliant white. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?" he barked, his stance firm, knuckles cracking.

"Look, Idris," Issac started, hands raised, voice tense, "now isn't the time—let's deal with this later. Right now, we have to—"

A shrill, manic laugh sliced through their argument.

Klaus.

He laughed uncontrollably, hunched over as if possessed, tears of delight in his eyes. "You two," he wheezed, "are an amazing source of entertainment."

Issac's face hardened. He stepped closer, voice sharp but filled with concern. "Klaus… what's wrong with you?"

The laughter stopped cold. Klaus's head tilted slightly, his smile eerily steady as he cut Issac off mid-sentence.

"Stop bullshitting me. Acting like some noble savior," he sneered. "You think you're a king?" Then he pointed at Idris. "And you—training every damn day just to get beaten by a guy who plays all day. What a waste of time."

Idris growled, fists clenched, but before he could strike, Issac exploded.

"Enough!" he bellowed, voice echoing off the walls. He grabbed Klaus by the collar, trembling with anger. "You're not the brother I know. I don't know what act you're putting on, but—"

"Act?" Klaus snapped, stepping forward, his usual laid-back demeanor evaporating. His eyes sharpened, voice like cold steel. "You call this an act? I had to pretend—for years. This whole noble fantasy, this palace full of liars. Lena. Idris. The King. Your precious mother. All of you... fools."

Something in Issac broke. He lunged, powered by fury, Zone blinding white—but Klaus vanished.

The chill of Klaus's breath ghosted over his shoulder.

When did he get this fast?

"Wanna see what else I've been hiding?" Klaus whispered.

Before Issac could react, Klaus raised an open palm—an exact replica of Issac's move during their last training.

But Idris moved first.

A spinning kick struck Klaus's neck with a brutal crack, sending him flying like a ragdoll down the corridor. Dust exploded from the walls as his body slammed through the air.

Silence. Then two glowing white pupils gleamed through the debris.

Issac and Idris exchanged a look. No words needed.

They both activated their Zones.

Klaus chuckled as he stood, brushing blood from his mouth. "Issac and Idris… teaming up? Now I've seen everything."

He charged. The collision seemed inevitable—until a gale-force wind slammed through the corridor, tossing all three boys apart like leaves in a storm.

From the shadows, two figures emerged. One tall, one childlike.

"Such a shame," the taller one said, voice indifferent, "to see the heirs of Atlas brawling like street dogs. Honestly… disappointing."

As they stepped into the light, Issac's heart stopped.

The taller one, a young man in his twenties, wore a pristine white uniform, eight golden stars gleaming on his chest. His eyes, though seemingly normal, held a chilling focus.

Beside him stood a boy. No taller than a child, with snow-white hair and cyan eyes that gleamed like morning skies. A lollipop dangled from his lips, and boredom dripped from his expression. His uniform bore seven stars.

The man scratched his head lazily. "So… which one of you wants to die first?"

The air thickened. The wind howled. None of the boys could move.

The uniforms. The stars. The crests. The legends.

The Twelve Arms of Arcacia.

Klaus was the first to stand—rage boiling over.

"You're the ones I've been waiting for."

He vanished, then reappeared in a blink, streaking toward the older man. But at the last moment, he redirected, pillars cracking beneath his feet, and lunged toward the boy.

"I'll start with the little bastard."

But something was wrong. The boy's eyes tracked him—every movement, every flicker.

And before Klaus could land the strike—

The child raised a single hand.

A crackle.

Lightning, shaped like dragons, burst from the boy's palm and slammed directly into Klaus's face.

The scream that followed was inhuman.

The volts kept flowing, merciless and unrelenting.

"KLAUS!" Issac and Idris screamed, charging forward—but the boy glared.

A storm of lightning and wind exploded around them, knocking them back like ragdolls. As Issac crawled, dazed, toward his cousin, the older man approached.

He leaned close to Issac's ear.

"You understand now, don't you?"

His grin stretched inhumanly wide.

"Today, we bury Atlas. Along with its heirs."

Tears welled in Issac's eyes. He turned to see Idris unconscious, broken.

Is this really the end? he thought, despair closing in.

The man raised a blade of wind, ready to strike down Issac—

A crash from above.

The ceiling shattered.

A figure descended like wrath itself.

In one fluid motion, he seized the child by the cape and hurled him into a nearby pillar. The resulting shockwave cloaked the corridor in dust.

A silhouette emerged, cradling the battered body of Klaus.

White pupils burned through the cloud.

Azar.

His presence shifted the very air. Walls trembled. Even the enemy paused.

The wind mage straightened. "Finally… a challenge."

A tornado roared down the corridor, lightning bursting where the boy had fallen. He stood again, unbothered, ready for war.

Azar laid Klaus gently by a pillar. Even as Issac tried to speak, his lips failed him. Darkness crept in. His vision dimmed. His body collapsed.

Azar stood alone.

"The dogs of Arcacia have broken the treaty," he roared.

His fury rippled like a quake.

"With my strength, I shall smite you all—make you beg for your final breath."

His pupils ignited. White fire enveloped his armored cloak.

And he marched toward them—unshaken, unstoppable.