Author notes are written by several people so bare with us on that one please. It's mostly written by a certain individual called Melatonin. (A/N: This one was written 100% by TheGamer9167) (The A/Ns are a feature you either love it or hate it.)
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Biggest lobotomy server… This fic is not for the weak and neither is this server.
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MC POV
The White Temple was unlike anything I had ever seen. Its architecture defied conventional physics—soaring arches that seemed to support nothing, hallways that twisted in impossible directions, and rooms that were somehow larger on the inside than they appeared from without. The walls themselves pulsed with a gentle luminescence, as if the entire structure was alive and breathing.
I followed Akira, the First Gooner, through corridors that seemed to rearrange themselves as we walked. Despite the disorienting surroundings, I felt strangely at ease in his presence. There was something familiar about him, though I couldn't quite place it.
"You have questions," he said, not turning to look at me as we walked. It wasn't a question.
"About a million," I admitted. "But I don't even know where to start."
Akira chuckled, the sound resonating through the hallway. "Most begin with 'what is this place?' or 'why me?' The classics."
"Alright then," I said, deciding to follow his lead. "What is this place? And why me?"
We entered a vast circular chamber with a domed ceiling that displayed what looked like a map of the cosmos—stars, galaxies, and nebulae shifting and swirling in a hypnotic dance. In the center of the room stood a circular platform surrounded by seven ornate pillars, each glowing with a different color.
"This is the Nexus," Akira explained, gesturing around us. "A place between places, beyond the constraints of any single reality. As for why you..." He turned to face me, his rainbow eyes studying me intently. "That is a more complicated question."
He stepped onto the platform and motioned for me to join him. As I did, the floor beneath us began to glow with intricate patterns that reminded me of circuit boards but far more complex.
"The simple answer is that you possess a rare gift—the ability to channel and harmonize all seven goon energies. The white aura you manifested during your battle with the dinosaur is proof of this."
"Seven?" I interrupted. "I only met six goonatars."
Akira smiled enigmatically. "Yes, only six revealed themselves to you. The seventh..." He trailed off, his expression becoming guarded. "That is a matter for another time."
Before I could press him further, he waved his hand, and the cosmic display above us zoomed in on a particular galaxy, then a solar system, then a familiar blue planet.
"Earth," I whispered, a pang of homesickness hitting me unexpectedly.
"Yes, but not your Earth," Akira corrected. "This is Earth as it was millions of years ago, during what your scientists would call the Late Cretaceous period. It is here that our story truly begins."
The display shifted again, showing a primitive landscape where a humanoid figure stood alone, surrounded by prehistoric creatures. The figure was performing what looked like a ritual, movements that seemed oddly familiar.
"The first gooning," Akira said, his voice tinged with something like reverence. "Before civilization, before language, before even the concept of pleasure for its own sake, there was this—the discovery of a fundamental energy that permeates all of existence."
I watched, fascinated, as the primitive human's actions generated a visible energy field around them, pulsing with a deep red hue.
"This energy has been called many things throughout history—chi, prana, the Force, mana—but its true nature remained hidden from most. Only those who discovered it through the act of gooning could tap into its full potential."
The display showed the energy spreading, evolving over time, splitting into different colors as it was discovered and rediscovered by different individuals throughout history.
"As humanity evolved, so too did this energy. It fragmented, specialized, became more refined. Seven distinct aspects emerged, each with its own properties and powers."
The seven colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and a seventh color that seemed to shift and change as I looked at it—floated above us, swirling together before separating again.
"I was the first to master the red aspect—the energy of creation, of raw power and potential. Others followed, each discovering and mastering their own aspect."
"The goonatars," I murmured, beginning to understand.
"Yes. We became the guardians of this knowledge, the protectors of an energy that, if misused, could devastate entire realities."
"And the white energy? My energy?"
Akira's expression grew serious. "White is the harmonization of all seven aspects—a perfect balance that has been achieved only a handful of times throughout history. It is immensely powerful and... dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
"Power always attracts those who would misuse it," Akira said, his voice hardening. "There are forces at work—ancient, cunning forces—that seek to harness the white energy for their own ends. Your father is chief among them."
The mention of my father sent a chill down my spine. "What does my father have to do with any of this?"
Akira waved his hand, and the display changed again, showing a figure that made my heart skip a beat—my father, but not as I remembered him. This version was wrapped in a black aura that seemed to devour the light around it.
"Your father was once like you—a vessel for the white energy, a potential harmonizer of all seven aspects. But he..." Akira hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "He made choices that corrupted his connection to the energy. He sought to control it rather than channel it, to dominate rather than harmonize."
The image showed my father confronting what looked like the goonatars, a battle of energies that ended with two of the colors—orange and yellow—being absorbed into his black aura.
"He stole the powers of two goonatars, killing them in the process. With their energies, he created Shaddai, a being of immense power designed to destroy the remaining goonatars and claim their energies for himself."
"But he failed," I guessed, watching as a purple figure—unmistakably Helmuth—defeated a blue-glowing entity that must have been Shaddai.
"Yes, but not permanently. Shaddai was merely imprisoned, not destroyed. And now, after centuries of waiting, he has awakened once more."
The display faded, leaving us standing in the soft glow of the platform.
"This is why you were brought here," Akira said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is why you must train, why you must master your abilities. Your father, Shaddai, and forces even they do not fully understand are moving against us. The balance of all realities hangs in the balance."
I took a deep breath, trying to process everything I'd just learned. My father, a villain in some cosmic drama. Me, apparently the chosen one with the power to save... everything? It was like something out of a bad fantasy novel.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, more out of curiosity than any real intention to walk away. "If I just want to go home and forget all this?"
Akira's expression was sympathetic but unyielding. "Then all is lost. You are not the first to bear the white energy, but you may well be the last. Your connection to it is stronger than any I have seen before—a connection your father recognized and sought to cultivate, though perhaps not for the reasons you might think."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father trained you, did he not? Encouraged your... activities? Guided you toward greater and greater mastery of the art of gooning?"
I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I remembered the awkward but supportive conversations with my father after he'd caught me in the act. The tips and techniques he'd shared, the strange exercises he'd taught me that I'd never questioned...
"He was preparing you," Akira continued, reading the realization on my face. "Grooming you to be a vessel for the white energy. Whether he intended to use you as an ally or as a sacrifice to further his own power, I cannot say."
The thought made me sick. Had everything—even my father's acceptance of my most private activities—been part of some grand manipulation?
"I understand this is a lot to take in," Akira said gently. "But time is short. Shaddai is awake, your father is moving his pieces into position, and the balance grows more precarious by the moment. Will you help us?"
I looked around at the cosmic display, at the seven colors swirling above us, at the image of Earth—so familiar yet so distant. Whatever game was being played, I was already a part of it. The only choice now was which role I would play.
"I'll help," I said finally. "But I want the whole truth. No more cryptic half-answers or convenient omissions. If I'm going to risk my life in this cosmic chess match, I deserve to know exactly what I'm fighting for."
Akira studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. The training will be difficult, and there are some truths that can only be understood through experience, but I will be as forthright as I can."
He extended his hand, and I took it, feeling a surge of energy pass between us—a pact sealed in power older than civilization itself.
"Welcome to the White Temple," Akira said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Your training begins now."
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SHADDAI POV
I followed the cat woman through a series of underground tunnels, my senses alert for any sign of treachery. Nine hundred years of imprisonment had not dulled my caution—if anything, it had sharpened it to a razor's edge.
"Your master," I said as we navigated the labyrinthine passages, "you've yet to tell me his name."
The cat woman glanced back at me, her feline eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Names have power, especially in matters such as these. He will reveal himself when the time is right."
I scoffed but said nothing more. Patience had been my constant companion for centuries; I could wait a little longer for answers.
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern that took even my breath away. The ceiling soared hundreds of feet above us, studded with crystals that glowed with an inner light. Waterfalls cascaded down the walls, feeding pools that steamed with geothermal heat. And at the center, a structure that defied description—part temple, part laboratory, part fortress, all constructed from materials I had never seen before.
"Impressive," I admitted, allowing a hint of appreciation to color my voice.
"My master values both function and aesthetics," the cat woman replied with a hint of pride. "This way."
She led me across a bridge that arched over one of the steaming pools, toward the main structure. As we approached, a door slid open silently, revealing a figure standing in the entrance.
I stopped, my body tensing instinctively. The figure was tall, imposing, wrapped in robes of deepest black that seemed to absorb the light around them. But it was the face that caught my attention—familiar in a way I couldn't immediately place, yet altered, changed by time or power or both.
"Shaddai," the figure greeted me, his voice resonating with a power that matched my own. "It has been too long."
"You have the advantage of me," I replied cautiously. "You know my name, but I do not know yours."
The figure chuckled, stepping forward into the light. "Don't you? Look closer. See beyond the changes that time and power have wrought."
I studied him more carefully, and suddenly recognition dawned—a face I had seen only in the memories implanted in me upon my creation, the face of my maker.
"Impossible," I breathed. "You would be ancient..."
"Age is merely a number when one has mastered the energies we wield," he replied with a dismissive wave. "Come, we have much to discuss."
He turned and walked into the structure, clearly expecting me to follow. After a moment's hesitation, I did, the cat woman falling into step behind me.
The interior was as impressive as the exterior—vast chambers filled with equipment both ancient and futuristic, walls lined with texts in languages long forgotten, and at the center, a laboratory where energies of various colors swirled and pulsed in containment fields.
"You've been busy," I observed.
"Nine hundred years is a long time to prepare," he replied, leading me to a circular table where holographic displays floated above the surface. "Much has changed since your... setback with Helmuth."
I bristled at the reminder of my defeat but kept my composure. "And what exactly have you been preparing for?"
He smiled, a cold expression that didn't reach his eyes. "The end of the goonatars' reign. The beginning of a new order. And the fulfillment of your purpose—our purpose."
With a gesture, he activated the holographic display, showing a familiar figure—the purple goonatar, Helmuth. "Your old adversary has grown stronger in your absence, but he is not invincible. Especially now that we have a new piece on the board."
The display shifted to show a young man I didn't recognize, surrounded by a white aura that pulsed with power.
"Who is this?" I asked, studying the figure with interest.
"My son," he replied, and I detected a note of something like pride in his voice. "And your half-brother, in a manner of speaking, since you were created from my essence."
I looked at him sharply. "Your son? You never mentioned..."
"There was no need, until now. He has manifested the white energy—all seven aspects in perfect harmony. A feat not seen since..."
"Since you," I finished, understanding dawning. "Before your energy turned black."
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "The goonatars have taken him, as I knew they would. They will train him, shape him, turn him into their perfect weapon against us."
"And you allowed this?" I couldn't keep the incredulity from my voice.
A smile spread across his face, cold and calculating. "Of course. Let them do the hard work of training him. Let them reveal their secrets, their weaknesses. And when the time is right..."
"We take him," I said, beginning to appreciate the elegance of the plan.
"Or eliminate him," he corrected, his voice hardening. "Whichever serves our purpose better."
I studied him, this being who had created me, who had imbued me with purpose and power, who now spoke of potentially killing his own son with such detachment. "And what is our purpose, exactly? Beyond revenge against Helmuth and the goonatars?"
He turned to face me fully, his eyes burning with an intensity that was almost frightening. "To rewrite the very fabric of reality itself. To ascend beyond the limitations the goonatars have placed upon us. To become gods in truth, not just in name."
He gestured again, and the holographic display expanded to show the cosmos, countless worlds and realities all interconnected by threads of energy. "The white energy—the harmonization of all seven aspects—is the key. With it, the barriers between realities can be broken, the laws of physics rewritten, the very concept of existence redefined."
"And your son possesses this key," I said, the pieces falling into place.
"As do you, in a different form," he replied. "You were created from the orange and yellow aspects, energies I claimed from the goonatars I defeated. Together with my black energy—which is white energy corrupted and inverted—we have the potential to match and even exceed the power my son wields."
I considered this, the implications staggering. "And your brother? Where does he fit into all this?"
A shadow passed over his face. "My brother is... a complication. A wild card. He possesses power comparable to mine, but his goals remain unclear. For now, we watch him, we wait, and we prepare for any move he might make."
He placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch cold yet somehow comforting. "But first, we must deal with the goonatars and my son. Are you with me, Shaddai? Will you help me reshape reality itself?"
I looked into his eyes, searching for deception, for manipulation, for anything that might give me pause. But all I saw was conviction, determination, and a vision so vast it bordered on madness—yet a madness that called to something deep within me.
"I am with you," I said finally. "To the end, whatever that may be."
His smile widened, and for a moment, I glimpsed something ancient and terrible behind it. "Excellent. Then let us begin."
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DINOSAUR POV
The transformation was both agony and ecstasy. My body, once bound by the limitations of mere flesh and bone, now pulsed with energies beyond mortal comprehension. My mind, once focused solely on base desires and survival, now expanded to encompass thoughts and concepts I never could have grasped before.
I stood before a mirror in my new chamber, examining the changes. My form was still recognizably reptilian, but more upright, more humanoid. My scales gleamed with a metallic sheen, and patterns of energy pulsed beneath them, visible just below the surface. My face had changed the most—more expressive, more intelligent, with eyes that glowed with an inner light that reflected the power now coursing through me.
"Admiring yourself?" a voice asked from the doorway.
I turned to see my master's assistant, a human woman with features that reminded me of the small felines that sometimes hunted in the underbrush of my former home.
"Adjusting," I corrected, flexing clawed hands that now possessed an almost human dexterity. "The changes are... significant."
She smiled, revealing teeth that were just a bit too sharp to be fully human. "My master's work is always thorough. How does it feel to think with a mind unfettered by primitive instincts?"
I considered the question. The constant hunger, the overwhelming drive to mate, the fear that had been my constant companions—all were still present, but muted, controlled, subservient to higher thought processes.
"Liberating," I said finally. "And terrifying. I am more than I was, yet I wonder if I am still myself."
"A philosophical question worthy of your new intellect," she observed, sounding genuinely impressed. "But save such musings for later. My master requires your presence. It's time for your first mission."
I followed her through the crystalline corridors of my new home, marveling at how easily I adapted to walking upright, to the new balance of my transformed body. We entered a chamber I hadn't seen before—a vast space dominated by a pool of what looked like liquid mercury, its surface rippling with images from countless realities.
My master stood at the edge of the pool, hands clasped behind his back as he observed the shifting scenes. He turned as we entered, his eyes—so similar to the human I had fought, yet so different—evaluating me with clinical precision.
"The transformation has taken well," he noted with satisfaction. "Your body and mind have accepted the changes without rejection. Excellent."
"I live to serve, master," I replied, bowing deeply. The words came naturally, though a small part of me—perhaps the last vestige of my former self—bristled at the subservience.
"Indeed you do," he agreed, turning back to the pool. "And now it is time to prove your worth. Observe."
He gestured, and the mercurial surface shifted to show a familiar scene—the White Temple, where the human who had defeated me now trained under the guidance of the First Gooner.
"My nephew progresses quickly," my master commented. "The First Gooner is an excellent teacher, as one would expect from the original master of the red aspect. But his methods are... predictable."
The scene shifted again, showing the human—my master's nephew—practicing what appeared to be martial arts forms, his body surrounded by the white aura I remembered from our battle.
"Your mission is simple," my master continued. "Observe his training, learn his routines, his strengths, his weaknesses. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. I want information, not confrontation. Not yet."
"And how am I to reach the White Temple?" I asked. "I doubt they welcome visitors, especially those connected to their enemies."
My master smiled, a cold expression that sent a shiver down my newly reconfigured spine. "The White Temple exists in a realm between realms, but it is not impervious to infiltration. There are... back doors, if one knows where to look."
He approached the pool and dipped a finger into the mercury-like substance. When he withdrew it, a droplet clung to his fingertip, shimmering with an inner light.
"This is a fragment of the substance from which the pool is made—a material that exists simultaneously in all realities. With it, you can create temporary pathways between worlds, including to the White Temple."
He flicked the droplet toward me, and it flew through the air in a graceful arc before splashing against my chest. Instead of running down my scales, it sank into them, merging with the energy patterns beneath.
A sudden rush of knowledge filled my mind—instructions, coordinates, techniques for using this new power. I gasped, staggering slightly as I processed the information.
"Use it wisely," my master warned. "Each passage drains the substance, and you have only enough for three crossings—there, somewhere else if needed, and back. Choose your moments carefully."
I bowed again, understanding the gravity of the responsibility. "When do I leave?"
"Immediately," he replied. "The First Gooner will soon begin teaching my nephew the deeper secrets of energy manipulation. I want to know exactly what he learns, how he learns it, and how quickly he masters it."
"And if I am discovered?"
My master's expression hardened. "Then you will not return. The White Temple is well-defended, and the First Gooner is not to be underestimated. If you are caught, you are on your own. I will not risk exposure to save you."
I nodded, accepting the terms. "I understand, master. I will not fail you."
"See that you don't," he said dismissively, already turning back to the pool. "Go now. Report back in three days, no sooner unless you discover something of immediate importance."
I bowed one final time, then turned and left the chamber. As I walked back to my quarters to prepare, I reflected on the strange path my life had taken. From a simple predator in a prehistoric forest to a spy in a cosmic war, transformed and elevated beyond anything I could have imagined.
And all because of a chance encounter with a human who smelled of power and potential. A human who had defeated me, humiliated me, and yet in doing so, had set me on a path to greatness.
"We will meet again, little brother," I murmured, flexing my claws as I thought of the white-aura human. "And next time, things will be very different."
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MC POV
Training under Akira was unlike anything I could have imagined. We began with what he called "the fundamentals"—techniques for channeling and controlling the white energy that flowed through me.
"Energy responds to intent," he explained as we stood in a training chamber, its walls pulsing with a soft light. "But intent without focus is like a river without banks—powerful but directionless, destructive rather than constructive."
He demonstrated, raising his hand and summoning a sphere of red energy that hovered above his palm. "Observe how the energy maintains its form, its purpose. This is not merely power—it is power directed, controlled, given shape by will and discipline."
I tried to mimic him, focusing on the energy I could feel coursing through my veins. At first, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden surge that made me gasp, white light erupted from my palm—not a controlled sphere like Akira's, but a wild, chaotic burst that dissipated almost immediately.
"Not bad for a first attempt," Akira said encouragingly. "But you're trying to force the energy, to dominate it. The white aspect cannot be controlled through dominance—it must be harmonized, balanced."
He adjusted my stance, my breathing, the angle of my arm. "Feel the flow of energy within you. Don't push or pull—simply guide it, like directing water through a series of channels."
We practiced for hours, and slowly, I began to make progress. By the end of the day, I could maintain a small sphere of white energy for several seconds before it destabilized.
"Enough for today," Akira said as I collapsed onto a bench, exhausted both physically and mentally. "Rest, recover. Tomorrow we begin work on the individual aspects."
"Individual aspects?" I asked, wiping sweat from my brow.
"The white energy is a harmonization of all seven aspects, but to truly master it, you must understand each component. We'll start with the red aspect—my specialty."
As promised, the next day began with lessons on the red aspect—the energy of creation, of raw power and potential. It was the most primal of the seven, Akira explained, the foundation upon which all others were built.
"The red aspect responds to passion, to desire, to the will to create and shape reality," he said as he guided me through forms that resembled martial arts but were subtly different. "It is the fire that burns within all living things, the spark that ignites change."
Day after day, we trained. Red gave way to orange—the energy of connection, of relationships, of the bonds between all things. Then yellow—the energy of knowledge, of wisdom, of understanding the underlying patterns of existence. Green followed—the energy of growth, of healing, of the constant cycle of life and death. Blue came next—the energy of transformation, of change, of adaptation to new circumstances. And finally purple—the energy of regeneration, of renewal, of rebirth from destruction.
Each aspect had its own character, its own feel, its own challenges. Some came more naturally to me than others—I had a particular affinity for the purple aspect, perhaps due to my connection with Helmuth—but all required intense concentration and practice to master.
"You progress quickly," Akira observed one evening as we sat in a meditation chamber, the walls displaying a peaceful forest scene that shifted and changed as we watched. "Faster than I expected, even knowing your potential."
"I had a good foundation," I replied, thinking of my father's "training" with new understanding. "Though I didn't know it at the time."
Akira nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Your father prepared you well, whatever his ultimate intentions. The question now is whether you can surpass his expectations—and his limitations."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father mastered the white energy, as you are learning to do. But he sought to bend it to his will, to control rather than harmonize. In doing so, he corrupted his connection to it, turning white to black. The power remained, but its nature changed—became destructive, consuming, antithetical to its original purpose."
I thought about this, about the black aura I had seen surrounding my father in the holographic display. "Could that happen to me?"
"It could happen to anyone who wields this power," Akira said gravely. "The temptation to control, to dominate, to reshape reality according to one's desires—it is always present. The difference lies in how one responds to that temptation."
He stood, walking to a window that overlooked the impossible landscape of the realm between realms. "Your father chose to embrace it. The question is, what will you choose when the moment comes?"
Before I could respond, an alarm sounded—a deep, resonant tone that seemed to vibrate through the very structure of the White Temple.
Akira stiffened, his expression immediately alert. "Someone has breached the outer defenses. Stay here. I will investigate."
He vanished in a flash of red light, leaving me alone in the meditation chamber. For a moment, I obeyed, waiting anxiously as the alarm continued to sound. But then a thought occurred to me—if this was an attack, if someone had come for me as Akira suggested they might, shouldn't I be prepared to defend myself?
Decision made, I left the chamber, making my way cautiously through the corridors toward the source of the disturbance. The Temple's layout was confusing, constantly shifting, but I had learned to navigate it by following the flow of energy rather than trying to memorize physical paths.
As I approached what felt like the epicenter of the disturbance, I heard voices—Akira's, raised in anger, and another, unfamiliar yet with an odd resonance that tickled at the edges of my memory.
I peered around a corner and froze at what I saw. Akira stood in a defensive stance, red energy swirling around him like a storm. Facing him was a creature I recognized despite its transformed appearance—the dinosaur I had fought in the cave, now standing upright, its form more humanoid though still unmistakably reptilian.
"You dare enter this sacred place?" Akira was saying, his voice vibrating with power. "You, who reek of his energy, his corruption?"
The dinosaur held up its hands—clawed but now possessing an almost human dexterity—in a gesture of peace. "I come not as an enemy, but as a messenger. My master wishes to speak with the boy."
"Your master," Akira spat the words like a curse. "He has no rights here, no claim on the child. Leave now, while you still can."
The dinosaur's posture shifted subtly, becoming more aggressive despite its placating words. "The boy is his son. Surely a father has some right to communicate with his child?"
"A father who would use his son as a tool, as a vessel for his ambitions? No. He forfeited any such rights long ago."
I stepped forward, unable to remain hidden any longer. "I should have a say in this, shouldn't I?"
Both Akira and the dinosaur turned to look at me, surprise evident on their faces.
"You should not be here," Akira said, his tone sharp. "Return to your chambers at once."
"No," I replied, stepping fully into the room. "If this is about me, I deserve to hear it. All of it."
The dinosaur's eyes—now glowing with an intelligence that hadn't been there before—fixed on me with an intensity that was unsettling. "Little brother," it said, using the same term it had during our fight. "You've grown stronger. I can feel it."
"And you've... changed," I observed, taking in its transformed appearance. "Who is your master? My father?"
It inclined its head, neither confirming nor denying. "My master wishes to speak with you directly. He believes there are truths you should hear—truths the First Gooner may be... reluctant to share."
"Do not listen to its lies," Akira warned, moving to stand between us. "This creature serves your father, yes, but its purpose here is deception, manipulation. Whatever 'truths' it offers are tainted by his corruption."
I looked between them, weighing my options. On one hand, Akira had been nothing but helpful, teaching me to control my abilities and explaining the cosmic struggle I found myself part of. On the other hand, there were gaps in his explanations, aspects of the story that felt incomplete or deliberately vague.
And my father... whatever his faults, whatever his intentions, he was still my father. Didn't I owe it to myself to at least hear what he had to say?
"I'll speak with him," I decided, ignoring Akira's sharp intake of breath. "But on neutral ground, not in his territory or yours. And I want guarantees of my safety."
The dinosaur smiled, an expression that looked bizarre on its reptilian features. "My master anticipated such conditions. He proposes a meeting at the Crossroads—a place equidistant from both the White Temple and his domain, bound by ancient laws of neutrality and non-aggression."
"The Crossroads," Akira murmured, his expression troubled. "It has been millennia since that place was used for a parley."
"All the more reason to honor its traditions now," the dinosaur replied smoothly. "Three days hence, at the turning of the cosmic tide. The boy may bring one companion for protection—you, First Gooner, if he so chooses. My master will do the same."
Akira looked at me, his rainbow eyes unreadable. "This is unwise. Your father is not to be trusted, nor are his servants."
"I know," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "But I need to hear what he has to say. I need to understand why he did what he did—to the goonatars, to me. And maybe... maybe there's a chance to end this without more violence."
Akira studied me for a long moment, then sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of eons. "Very well. But we will prepare thoroughly, and at the first sign of treachery, we leave. Agreed?"
I nodded, relieved that he wasn't going to try to stop me. "Agreed."
The dinosaur bowed, a gesture that seemed both mocking and sincere. "Then it is settled. I will convey your acceptance to my master. Until the Crossroads, little brother."
It stepped backward, and a rift opened in the air behind it—a tear in reality that revealed a swirling vortex of colors and shapes beyond human comprehension. With one final, enigmatic smile, the dinosaur stepped through, and the rift closed behind it, leaving no trace of its presence.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Akira said quietly. "Your father is not the man you remember. The corruption has changed him, twisted him into something... other."
"I know," I replied, though in truth, I wasn't sure I did. "But I have to try. If there's any chance of resolving this peacefully, of understanding what's really happening, I have to take it."
Akira placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch surprisingly warm and human despite the power I knew he possessed. "Then we have much to prepare. The Crossroads is not merely a place—it is a nexus of realities, a point where the barriers between worlds are thinnest. It has its own rules, its own dangers. And your father will know them all too well."
I nodded, a mixture of anticipation and dread churning in my stomach. In three days, I would face my father—not as the boy who had accidentally tasted his own.
"Nah I'd goon."
END
(what is going on? Find out on the next episode of DC: White Splash)
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The very talented and beautiful authors and editors that participated!!! (lobotomized authors and editors)
TheGamer9167 (I wrote everything)
Melatonin ( I filled in some plot holes) (Please fill in the plot holes gng)