"Baron Circe's hatred for commoners surpasses his hatred for monsters," the third eye of the monster twitched, looking about, finally looking downwards towards Paulio with intense hatred. "Heh, to sacrifice your son just because he had a child with a commoner," the figure said in amusement. Paulio agreed. Baron Circe has gone through great lengths to really demonstrate his hatred for commoners. Paulio was beginning to think that something larger was at play. Paulio sighed.
"I agree the seed of chaos is a bit excessive just to get rid of a measly commoner." Paulio laughed nervously. "It's to be expected he blames his son for .... Never mind," the voices said. "I think I must pay him a visit; he is well-suited to be a forbidden mage." The voice said in utter disgust.
"Pay him a visit?" Paulio's face darkened as he stretched out his hands, opening his palms, his golden gauntlet slowly creaking, an ancient power behind it. Slow streaks of lightning flash on the gauntlet after every creak. Suddenly, little orange orbs slowly floated around his palm, spiralling around it. As the seconds increased, the orbs spiralled faster as they converged in the center of the gauntlet. In an instant, a palm-sized fireball appeared, whose mass and depth increased by each passing second. Paulio then raised his right hand upwards, above his head, a massive fireball that seemed to illuminate the whole domain.
"You don't seem to understand the situation," Paulio said as fiery eyes flickered with a brief cold blue celestial light. "I see..." the voices said faintly as red blood suddenly oozed out of the third eye.
The sky overhead was a bruised slate, the clouds hanging low like a bruise over the ruined village and the encroaching forest, their edges jagged with lightning that crackled as if echoing the ferocity of the creature below.
The monster's eyes—those third, unblinking orbs that had once been the source of his power—were now dripping with an inky blackness. The blood that seeped from them was not ordinary crimson but a viscous, almost metallic shade, each drop a miniature storm that seemed to swallow the light around it. It fell onto the creature's skeletal flesh and pooled, darkening every exposed bone as if the very marrow itself had turned to night.
The monster's belly—once a simple, hollow husk—was now an abyssal maw from which emerged five skeletal hands, each joint knotted with black tendrils that pulsed like veins of darkness. Their fingers were long and spindly, tipped with nails that gleamed obsidian under the pallid light. The suction force they generated was not a mere pull; it was a vortex—a whirlpool of void that twisted around the creature's core, drawing in the very essence of the domain: fog, mist, even the faintest trace of human life.
Paulio stood there, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drum in an empty hall. His gauntlet—an heirloom wrought from gold and runes older than the kingdom itself—creaked with each creak. Lightning danced along its surface in slow, deliberate arcs, flickering between silver and deep blue as if it were a living thing, a pulse of ancient power that resonated through his veins.
He could feel the weight of every breath he took, every tremor of the ground beneath him. The air was thick with fear; even the wind seemed to hold its breath. A cold shiver ran down Paulio's spine as the monster's bone hands pressed against the cocoon—an ethereal shell that now shimmered with a darkness that could swallow stars.
The cocoon had once been a shimmering, translucent sphere of light—a protective barrier forged from pure will and raw energy. Now it was a jagged, crackling husk of obsidian and bone, its surface rippling like the skin of an ancient sea creature. The cracks were not mere fissures; they were living veins that pulsed with dark energy, each one threatening to tear the cocoon open, releasing whatever lay within.
When the cracks finally gave way, a shockwave exploded outward—a tremor that shook the very foundation of the domain. The ground split in half, and a jagged line ran through the forest, as if the earth itself had been cleaved by a blade. The monster emerged from the ruptured cocoon, its form grotesquely altered, each bone jutting out like a spire, each joint a point of malevolent grace.
Its legs—six in total—were elongated and bent at unnatural angles, their joints flexing with an eerie fluidity that betrayed no humanity. They planted themselves on the ground as if it were a stage, each foot a weapon poised to strike. The creature's torso was a mass of bone and sinew, its ribs exposed like a skeletal framework; the spine ran down its back in a series of jagged ridges that seemed to vibrate with unseen power.
At the center of this abomination—an almost impossible heart of black flesh and bone—was a pulsing core. It was a small, round mass, barely larger than Paulio's palm, yet it glowed with a sickly yellow light that seemed to pulse in sync with the creature's breathing. The creature's hands were skeletal, each finger ending in a razor‑sharp nail, but interwoven through its flesh were strands of muscular tissue that glistened with a dark sheen, as if they had been forged from some ancient, forbidden alloy.
The baby—an infant no more than a few days old—was bound within this monstrous form. Its skin was the same pallid hue as Lily's, mottled with veins that ran like rivers of black ink across its body. Hair, long and ravenous, cascaded down around its core, draping over bone and flesh alike in a tangled mess. The infant's eyes were wide, bright, and unblinking, filled with an intelligence far beyond its years—a cruel paradox.
Paulio felt the world tilt. Every instinct screamed at him to strike—fireball or blade, light or darkness—but his mind was flooded with the knowledge that he could not afford a misstep. "I would attack if I were you," the monster provoked. Paulio sighed. It's not that he didn't want to attack the monster; it was that he hadn't gotten used to his strength yet. As he stood there with the fireball in his hand, he could be said to be refining his abilities. If he moved now, a slight miscalculation, whether it was moving too fast or inputting a large amount of power, he would destroy the domain and the town along with their side of the forest. If survivors were still out there, they would be killed, worst of all, James. If James got caught in the crossfire, he would be in trouble. In the worst-case scenario, James survived the attack.
-- That guy's abilities are too troublesome; I hope he doesn't get caught in it. It would be a real pickle-- Paulo thought. The suction wave stopped, causing Paulio to observe the monster. "It should be about time,"
He lifted his gauntleted hand slowly, the ancient runes on the gold flaring brighter with each heartbeat. Lightning crackled along the edges, a storm that seemed to hold its own against the darkness that clung to the monster. He could feel the heat rising from his palm, the electric charge humming through his veins, the faint scent of ozone in the air.
With a controlled breath—deep and deliberate—he released the fireball. It hovered at his fingertips like a captive flame, shimmering with a blue-white light that cut through the gloom. The ball was not merely heat; it was a manifestation of his will, a pure expression of the ancient power that had been passed down through generations.
The monster turned its gaze toward Paulio, and at that moment, the very ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet. Its eyes—now fully exposed—were an abyssal blackness filled with a hunger that could swallow stars. The creature's lips curled into a grin that was both terrifying and mesmerizing; it was a grin that spoke of eternity, of power beyond mortal comprehension.
"It seems now I wouldn't have to worry about holding back". Paulio smiled as he clenched his palms, with only one finger supporting the fireball. The monster had reached the point at which it could take his attack, only destroying the monster and the domain. He wasn't letting it develop any further.
He closed his eyes for an instant, focusing on the ancient runes that pulsed along his gauntlet. Furthermore, he felt the power of his lineage surge within him—a force that had survived centuries of war and ruin. He drew upon it, feeling the ancient energy coalesce into his palm, swirling around the fireball like a living thing.
With an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, he let the fireball leave his hand. It shot forward—a streak of blazing light—flickering as it pierced the air.