Elexis stepped closer, a faint smile curling at the edges.
"Your plans amuse me. They never listened to your side of the story…"
His gaze narrowed.
"So, you're going to override everything through your so-called flexible Devia… heh."
Traxis sneered.
"It cannot be mocked, brother. Everything is going according to plan. Even you can feel it… that need to be understood, to be loved, appreciated… it's all part of Devia."
Elexis flinched, just slightly.
"Now that… is either revolutionary… or terrifying."
He rubbed his chin, weighing each word like a blade.
"When you said I needed to be understood… it reminded me of the brother I found after your death."
Traxis arched an eyebrow.
"Ooh… let me guess—the so-called symbol of sacrifice?"
Elexis nodded.
"I was lonely then, until he came. His aura carried the weight of those who wield authority… the voice of the ancestors. He was the brother I never had—Valitor."
Traxis smirked.
"I bet he was boring."
Elexis chuckled.
"Very boring. Always steadfast, always virtuous. But… we made it work."
His tone cooled.
"But things weren't meant to last. It fades… eventually. Or should I say… it gets stolen."
He glanced away, letting the weight of the memory dissolve.
"Nonetheless… it's over. A thing of the past. Right now… you are the future. Or… you might be."
Traxis gave his shoulder a quick jab.
Traxis: leans on the arm of the Vortex Throne, eyes narrowing
"Why did you come here, Elexis?"
Elexis: steps closer, voice low but edged with amusement
"Oh… about that. Do you remember Thromel? The war general of the Vortex Rebellion… second only to Octicon?"
Traxis: pauses, the name striking a nerve
"Thromel…" his gaze drifts as the air around him seems to shimmer, the memory bleeding back—blazing suns, screaming skies, the crack of his own weapon ending a life… or so he thought.
Elexis: tilts his head, watching the realization grow
"There it is. You hear it too, don't you? That voice. He's always been there… because he's still alive. And he's here."
Traxis: squints, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth
"Huh…?"
The ground hums—then a deep BOOM echoes through the hollow realm, rattling the dead stones.
A shadow emerges, a silhouette framed by faint golden light. Stepping forward, draped in the fading glow of a burning sphere, is Thromel. In his grasp floats a miniature sun, its embers dancing against the void.
Narrator: Before the Nine Suns fell, Thromel had stolen one… a fragment to cheat death itself. And it had worked.
Thromel: raising a hand in casual greeting, a smirk on his scarred face
"Long time… no see, Traxis."
Traxis: narrows his eyes at Thromel, voice low and sharp
"I don't trust you. The last time I saw you, all you wanted was to take everything… to rule without care."
Elexis: steps slightly forward, calm but firm
"Traxis… circumstances can change perspective entirely. Your intentions aligned with Thromel's once, but the events and conflicts clouded the view. The Vortex Rebellion… they had a mission: to free Airious from its rigid authenticity."
Traxis: arms crossed, jaw tight, a flicker of consideration in his eyes
"So… the Vortex Rebellion wanted control because they felt overlooked… is that what you're saying?"
Thromel: voice steady, measured, almost persuasive
"Not just that. Our intentions… they were the same. But the methods… different. We sought control. You sought revelation. But together… together, we could find a way forward."
Traxis glared at them, a long, silent scrutiny. Every instinct told him caution. But he also knew the reality—he needed more souls, more believers. And sometimes, power demanded compromise.
Traxis: finally, a subtle nod, voice unwavering
"Fine. I don't trust you… but I will accept. For now."
The nine suns pulsed above the palace, each orbiting with a faint hum that reverberated across the multiverse. Light spilled across realms—Soul Haven, Pilla, Terra, Amet—and even distant planets felt the tremor of their power. The Vortex rebels, resurrected and glowing with Omega Devia's infusion, raised their arms in unison. The air crackled with metaphysical energy, bending around them as if reality itself was a pliable canvas.
Traxis extended a hand, fingers tracing patterns in the void. Streams of golden and indigo light wove around the suns, feeding them, guiding them. The suns responded, flaring brighter, almost sentient, as if recognizing their new master.
Thromel: watching the scene, voice calm but awe-laced
"You're not just feeding them power… you're synchronizing them with Devia itself. That… that is unprecedented."
Elexis: grinning, a rare glint of amusement in his eyes
"Unprecedented… or dangerously reckless. This is exactly the kind of thing Traxis used to do. You remember, brother, the war of the nine suns? You left everything to chaos then, and now, look… total control."
Traxis chuckled, almost lazily, though his aura flared with dangerous elegance.
"Chaos is one thing… control is another. Omega Devia doesn't just amplify power—it aligns it. My alignment, my vision… everything in perfect resonance."
The Vortex rebels surged forward, forming a sphere around the suns. As they chanted, the suns' light intertwined with Devia energy, casting shifting, fractal patterns across reality. The palace walls, normally impervious, rippled with the energy. Stars above flickered in response, galaxies bending slightly to witness the spectacle.
Thromel: narrowing his eyes, muttering under his breath
"If these suns were weapons before, now… they're a symphony of destruction."
Omega Devia, hovering above the central sun, pulsed with consciousness, its energy responding to the intent of Traxis. Streams of energy reached into each rebel, each sun, threading through their essence, syncing their thoughts, wills, and strengths with Traxis' command. They were no longer individuals—they were a collective extension of his authority, yet paradoxically, each retained their unique essence, their inner inconsistencies now aligned like instruments in a perfect orchestra.
Elexis: teasing, voice cutting through the cosmic hum
"And yet… you call it for the greater good. Funny how the road paved with good intentions looks like this."
Traxis' smile widened, almost amused at his brother's words.
"For the greater good, yes… but every masterpiece needs shadows to give it contrast."
The combined power of the suns, the rebels, and Omega Devia created a visible rift in the skies above Flex City. Colors unknown to most eyes danced in infinite loops, forming spirals and fractals that reflected the paradoxical nature of the energy. Even distant realms could sense it—Ellion in Amet, Dj Vanta in Pilla, Mistress Myla in Terra—all felt the pulse, a subtle call to recognize the new order.
The rebels moved as one, synchronized with Traxis' thoughts, but with whispers of their individuality shining through—flickers of memory, flashes of past battles. And yet, no resistance remained. Even the might of the nine suns bent under his guidance, their raw energy focused, concentrated, ready to be wielded as both shield and spear across the multiverse.
Traxis lowered his gaze, scanning the scene with satisfaction.
"Infinite potential… infinite fuel… yet still, imperfect enough to teach. Power is never absolute. It's malleable, and it is mine to direct."
He lifted a hand, and the energy flared outward, sending a pulse that resonated across every awakened soul, every observer across countless realms. Omega Devia thrummed with satisfaction, the energy now amplified beyond anything it had ever felt, tethered to Traxis' vision, his authority, his paradoxical justice.
And as the cosmic chorus settled into a rhythm, Traxis allowed a rare laugh to echo, deep and resonant.
"Let the multiverse watch… and understand. For the greater good… you must be willing to be crooked."
Traxis stood before the nine suns, their metaphysical glow spilling across the void, each one a reservoir of consciousness, of trillions of minds, souls, and spirits scattered across the cosmos. Long before he was born, they had fueled the Vortex rebels, shaping destinies and bending the very principles of existence. Their reach was infinite, unfathomable, yet now, in the grasp of Omega Devia, they were perfect. The energy pulsed in sync with the 3–6–9 principle—mind, soul, spirit—exactly what Omega Devia hungered for.
He felt the power coursing through him, intoxicating, almost seductive. And yet, he knew the truth—great power demanded a price far greater than most could imagine. Corruption was not a threat—it was a certainty. But for Traxis, the mission outweighed the risk. For his people. For his family. For those who, like him in his youth, had demanded change in a universe that refused to bend.
He clenched his fist, the suns responding to the intensity of his resolve. A part of him whispered of caution, of consequence. And then, in the quietest corner of his mind, he heard it—Klexis, his son.
"Traxis… Omega Devia isn't an evolution," the voice said, calm yet piercing. "It's your need to be right… your need to matter."
The words struck him, unbidden yet unavoidable. Maybe… maybe Klexis was right. Perhaps this wasn't about progress, about evolution, or even about Devia. Perhaps this was about the echo of his own ambition, a reflection of the part of him that always needed to leave a mark, to be understood, to matter in a universe that often ignored him.
He paused, looking at the suns, at the rebels, at the vastness of Omega Devia itself. For a heartbeat, doubt flickered across his consciousness, small but insistent. And then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, he allowed it—acknowledging the truth, but not letting it deter him.
"Maybe it is my need to matter," he murmured, voice low, almost to himself. "But if that's the case… then let my need shape the future. If I fall, I fall knowing I tried for more than just myself."
And with that, Traxis raised his hand once more. The suns flared brighter, the rebels chanted louder, and Omega Devia pulsed in approval, ready to follow wherever his will and his need to matter would lead.