Exhausted but unbroken, they pushed to their feet.
Sammy spun his blades, amber eyes blazing. “He’s buying us time. Let’s not waste it!”
Rory’s usual grin flickered back into place, though fatigue clung to his every motion. “Now you’re talking. Let’s give this overgrown fever dream a proper reckoning.”
Lola steadied herself and clapped her hands together. A golden pulse radiated outward, bathing the team in strength and resolve. “I’ll keep you healed. Stay in range!”
Empowered by her aura, the team surged forward. Sammy struck with blinding precision, his blades carving through the Beast’s chaotic form in flickers of motion.
Rory flanked and unleashed a flurry of Ki-charged punches, each strike ringing out like thunderclaps.
Nimby dove and darted overhead, sending bursts of green energy from his wings to hammer at exposed weak spots.
The coordinated assault pressed the Beast back, its shifting body flickering with instability.
“It’s working!” Lola called out, hope rising in her voice.
But then... silence.
The Beast froze mid-lunge. Its chaotic energy condensed inward, a dangerous shimmer building beneath its skin. Its mismatched eyes glowed blindingly, and the very air seemed to scream with warning.
Rory’s expression darkened. “Uh… that’s not good.”
“What’s it doing?” Sammy asked, retreating a step as the light intensified.
“Charging up,” Rory said grimly. “And if I had to guess… it’s going to explode.”
The Beast’s body swelled with untamed power. Cracks spiderwebbed across the cavern walls, glowing with searing light. The very air vibrated—wild, unstable, like the world itself was trying to hold its breath.
“Lola, shields!” Sammy shouted, panic lacing his voice.
“I—I can’t!” Lola’s voice trembled. She raised her hand but the barrier shattered before it even formed. The arcane weave slipped through her fingers like water.
Then, Pupster stepped forward.
He did not shout. He did not flinch. He simply planted his spear into the stone, the metal ringing out like a war drum.
Blue lightning erupted from his frame, brighter and wilder than ever before—no longer flickering, but surging with primal intent. His aura burst outward in jagged pulses, crackling arcs of stormlight dancing across the cavern. It was fury, yes—but controlled. Anchored. Unbreakable.
“Pupster, no!” Lola reached for him, voice cracking with fear.
He turned to her—his expression calm, resolute. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His next step scorched the stone, blue fire coiling around his limbs like spirits summoned to his cause.
And then—he roared.
It was no battle cry. It was a declaration. A primal anthem that echoed through the cavern and the marrow of every soul present. He hurled himself between his friends and the encroaching storm, aura blazing like a supernova.
And then—
Oblivion.
The Beast of Anarchy detonated in a maelstrom of chaos. Fire, ice, lightning, and raw, elemental force screamed outward in all directions. The cavern ruptured. The walls bled molten light. Wind howled like a banshee. The world tilted, fractured, broke.
Lola’s scream pierced the madness. “PUPSTER!”
Then—silence.
Dust choked the air. Smoke curled along the stone like dying breath. Where Pupster had stood, there was only ruin. A crater blackened and deep. No sound. No movement. Just scorched stone and the echo of sacrifice.
Lola dropped to her knees, her hands scraping across the stone. “No,” she whispered. “No. No. No—”
Tears streamed down her face. “You idiot! You promised!” She struck the ground, sobs wracking her frame as magic sparked uselessly from her fingertips.
None of them moved.
Sammy stood motionless, his tail limp. Rory’s mouth parted, but no quip came. Only silence.
Then—a sound.
Soft. Subtle. A hum, like thunder held in a whisper.
Lola’s breath caught. Her tear-streaked gaze lifted.
Above the crater, the air shimmered. Lightning sparked from nothing. A cocoon of pure blue light began to form—dense, radiant, impossibly still. It hovered, suspended above the ruin like a second heartbeat returning to the world.
She stumbled to her feet. “What…?”
The cocoon cracked. Lightning forked across the chamber, splitting the gloom with jagged, blinding lines. The hum grew louder, rising into a crescendo of electric power.
Then—detonation.
The shell exploded in a flash of white-blue brilliance. A tidal wave of light and storm washed across the cavern, knocking back dust, shadow, and despair alike.
And from the storm—he emerged.
Pupster stepped forward through the residual glow, every movement a silent defiance of death itself. No longer the weathered warrior. Now—an elemental force made flesh.
He stood taller than before—leaner, sleeker, yet unmistakably powerful. Nearly six-foot-two, his posture bore the weight and grace of a Storm god. Every line of his body was carved with disciplined precision, his muscles taut with purpose rather than bulk.
His fur had deepened into a stormy grey, threaded with faint veins of cobalt and silver that pulsed along his limbs and spine like circuit-etched lightning. When he moved, the markings glowed—softly at rest, fierce when charged.
His eyes, once calm and calculating, now blazed with a lightning-blue intensity. Electric tendrils shimmered across his irises—storms barely restrained behind his gaze.
His armour had transformed completely. No longer battered and worn, it now flowed with purpose: a sleek, aerodynamic shell forged from reinforced core alloy. Engraved motifs of stormclouds and thunderbolts curved across the pauldrons, flaring with pulsing runes that responded to his breath. The metal shimmered between silver and electric blue, flickering with his aura’s cadence.
Segmented plating adorned his tail—refined for balance and mid-air strike precision. His limbs bore additional reinforcement, with clawed gauntlets and shin plating that gleamed with sharpened potential, suited for feral, close quarters strikes.
His aura ignited—not a glow, but a phenomenon. Winds whipped around him, lightning coiling through the storm-corona that now surrounded his frame. With every step, arcs leapt from the stone. In that moment, he did not walk—he advanced like a thunderhead rolling in from the edge of the world.
Not a warrior. Not a guardian. A force of nature. “Pupster?” Lola’s voice broke. Her hands trembled as she reached toward him.
He turned to her, a faint but unmistakable smile forming on his lips. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”
The words hit her like a tidal wave. Her knees gave out, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks—but this time, she laughed through them. “You stupid, reckless, beautiful idiot…”
Sammy let out a low whistle, the awe in his voice unmasked. “Okay. What the hell just happened?”
Rory approached slowly; his usual cocky tone softened with reverence. “Evolution,” he murmured. “Pure, unfiltered growth. When willpower and instinct shatter the barrier of limitation.”
Sammy blinked. “So… he powered up?”
“More than that,” Rory replied. “He transcended. That kind of transformation only happens when a soul answers its own call to rise.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Pupster lifted his newly repaired spear, the air around it crackling with anticipation. “No more delays. Let’s end this.”
The Beast now recovered from it last attack lunged—chaotic energy lashing out in wild arcs—but Pupster was already there. He moved like a storm made flesh, a streak of electric blue cutting through the darkness. His spear struck with the precision of lightning, each blow carving through the Beast’s chaotic form and leaving trails of fractured energy in his wake.
Sammy blinked, barely catching Pupster’s blur as it zipped past. “He’s a freaking lightning storm.”
“That evolution’s supercharged his reflexes.” Rory murmured, a note of awe in his voice.
The Beast thrashed, roaring in frustration, but Pupster never slowed. He danced across the battlefield, each movement laced with crackling speed. Afterimages flared and vanished like ghosts of lightning.
“Keep it up!” Lola called, her hands glowing bright as she channelled radiant energy once more.
Golden threads burst forth, latching onto the Beast with glowing force. They wound tighter and tighter, locking the Zerodian in place. It struggled, snarling, its chaotic energy flaring violently—but the bind held.
“Sammy, Rory—hit it with everything you’ve got!” Pupster barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
Sammy’s blades ignited with crimson light as he launched himself into the air. He spun mid-leap, his twin blades carving savage arcs across the Beast’s bound form.
Rory followed, slamming his fists into the earth.
A shockwave tore through the cavern floor, buckling the stone beneath the Zerodian and staggering its stance.
The Beast let out a guttural roar, its energy condensing into a chaotic vortex. The surge forced the team backward, the pressure intense, oppressive.
But Pupster didn’t budge.
“Lola, hold it steady!” he called, dashing forward, lightning sparking at his heels.
“I’m trying!” Lola shouted, sweat trickling down her temple. Her aura flickered as she fought to maintain control of the bind.
“Sammy—again!” Pupster shouted.
Sammy gritted his teeth and dove in, his blades a blur of motion. Red light flared as he slashed through the Beast’s unstable aura. Rory surged forward with him, his fists glowing brighter, and drove another quake into the creature’s chest. The Zerodian faltered, its form flickering like a dying flame.
“Lola!” Pupster yelled. “Finish it!”
She planted her feet, her voice ringing out with fierce clarity as she cast her spell.
A column of golden light erupted from her hands engulfing the Beast. The cavern lit up as the Zerodian shrieked, its form unravelling into motes of harmless energy that danced skyward like dying embers.
Then silence.
The light faded, and the only sound left was the faint hum of a Zerodian sigil descending through the air. It hovered above the stone floor, glowing softly with the last remnants of the Beast’s chaotic power.
The team stood together, bloodied, breathless, but triumphant.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Lola stared at the Zerodian sigil slowly descending through the still air. It hovered just above her palm, flickering with chaotic light—then dimmed, fading as it lowered in front of her face.
She reached for it frowning. “It is resisting,” she said softly. “Even now… it doesn’t want to be bound.”
“Not surprised,” Rory muttered, brushing ash from his sleeve. “Whatever that thing was, it was older than reason. Even sealed, it probably hates being confined.”
Pupster exhaled slowly, crackling lightning still flickering along his shoulders. His armour hummed with residual energy. “It is not over. I can feel something else—beneath us.”
Sammy’s ears twitched. He glanced around, then down. “There,” he said, pointing.
A soft pulse of light glowed at the centre of the chamber. It had not been there before.
At the centre of the chamber, a faint, pulsing light caught their attention.
Sammy stepped forward, his grip tightening on his blades.
“This has to be it,” Sammy murmured, eyes fixed on the crystalline fragment suspended in mid-air.
It pulsed gently above the pedestal, each beat echoing like a whisper of chaos waiting to be unleashed.
“Careful,” Pupster said, stepping to his side. “We don’t know what will happen if you touch it.”
Sammy smirked, that familiar glint of reckless charm in his eyes. “Relax. When have I ever messed something like this up?”
Pupster raised an eyebrow. “You want that alphabetically or chronologically?”
Sammy ignored him and stepped forward. The fragment shimmered with unstable energy, casting wild reflections across the chamber walls. As he reached out, it pulsed once—then launched toward him in a streak of brilliant light.
The instant it collided with his blades, a violent surge of power erupted. Blinding light engulfed the room. The air screamed as chaotic forces converged, and for a moment, nothing existed but radiance and roar.
When the light finally faded, Sammy stood alone at the centre, his weapons transformed.
The blades in his hands had become something else entirely—a double edged weapon. Its edges jagged, crackling with unstable energy. The hilt was wrapped in dark crystal, its core flickering like a storm trapped in glass. Sparks arced from the blade’s surfaces, distorting the air around it.
“Whoa,” Sammy breathed, slowly lifting the weapon. “It feels like lightning and fire are wrestling in my grip.” He paused. “It’s like chaos.”
“What is that?” Lola asked, eyes wide, head lowered closer in awe.
“It looks like the fragment bonded with his weapon,” Rory said, stepping closer, voice laced with admiration and wariness. “According to the book, only someone compatible with a fragment’s energy can harness its power.”
Lola’s brow furrowed. “A fragment… of what?”
Rory knelt beside the pedestal, running a gloved finger across the now-inactive runes. “A Zerodian Core,” he said. “What we’re seeing here is just a shard of it—a splinter of a greater whole.”
Sammy’s ears twitched. “You mean this thing used to be bigger?”
“Much bigger,” Rory confirmed. “Zerodian Cores are the crystallised essence of ancient, sentient magic. When a Zerodian falls—or willingly gives its power—what remains can become a core. They hold echoes of their soul. Their purpose. Their element. And in some cases...”
He glanced at Sammy’s blade. “...their madness.”
Lola looked down at her hands. “So that means… this core came from the Beast of Anarchy?”
Rory nodded. “Most likely. And judging by the resonance, it did not come willingly.”
Sammy gave the blade a careful swing. A ripple of chaotic energy burst forth, striking a nearby chunk of rubble. The stone exploded into dust.
Rory flinched back. “Would you not do that next to my tail?”
Sammy laughed. “Relax. I have it under control.”
Pupster crossed his arms, gaze sharp but calm. “How does it feel?”
Sammy’s grin widened. “Like holding a storm on a leash. This thing’s incredible.”
But just for a heartbeat—his smile flickered. Something within the blade pulsed again, deeper this time, like a second presence testing the boundaries of its new wielder. Sammy blinked, shook it off, and adjusted his grip.
Pupster tilted his head slightly, watching. “Let us hope so. We have enough chaos to manage already.”
Lola stepped forward; her voice quiet but resolute. “If this is only one fragment… we need to find the others. Before someone else does.”
Rory clapped his hands together. “Excellent. More ancient ruins, more chaos, more explosions. Sounds like a fantastic idea.”
The team made their way out of the temple, relief washing over them as they left the dark, oppressive chambers behind.
After hours spent navigating the shadowed halls—lit only by Rory’s flickering ki orbs and the occasional brazier casting eerie light—the outside world felt like a breath of fresh air.
The team emerged into the forest clearing, inhaling deeply as the cool, natural air filled their lungs. The oppressive weight that had haunted them inside the temple eased, though a lingering tension clung to the edges of the forest.
Lola sank to the ground, crossing her legs, and searched inside herself for the Beast of Anarchy’s essence. The chaotic energy pulsed against her fingertips.
Unlike the Mist Dragon—smooth-edged and serene—this one was jagged, its power wild and uneven. At her centre, the Beast’s shifting form twisted in a cyclone of crackling energy, its fury barely restrained.
Pupster approached quietly, his boots muffled against the soft forest floor. He placed a heavy, reassuring hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes fixed on her.
“You doing okay, Lola?”
She nodded faintly. “I can feel its rage. It’s not like the Mist Dragon. It’s… fighting me. Pushing back.”
Rory sauntered up with a flourish, arms wide as though taking a bow. “Worry not, my dear Lola,” he said in a mockingly soothing tone. “You should be perfectly safe with it in its sealed state.”
Lola gave him a flat look. “Should be? Wow. That’s comforting.”
He ignored her sarcasm and gave a dramatic sigh. “Well, danger is my middle name. But—on a more serious note” His tone shifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You said something. You know, before…” He gestured to Pupster with theatrical flair.
“This whole handsome-ification took place”.
Pupster groaned loudly. “You had to say it.”
Rory leaned in slightly, his tone shifting from theatrical to thoughtful. “You said your Identify skill had changed, correct?”
Lola blinked, then slowly nodded. “Yeah... I hadn’t really used it since the golem fight. Just before I—”
“—summoned the Mist Dragon for the first time,” Rory finished for her, a knowing glint in his eye. “Exactly. I suspect your connection with these Zerodians is evolving your magic. As you bond with them, they’re changing you.”
Lola frowned. “Changing me?”
Rory held up a finger. “Enhancing, not changing. Think of it like an echo. As they awaken, so do the parts of you meant to guide them. You’ve grown stronger. And now, I think it’s not just Zerodians or monsters you can identify.”
He turned abruptly. “Sammy! Bring out your new toy.”
Sammy’s grin was instant. He unslung the warped new warblade from his back with flair. “Finally! Someone appreciates quality.”
Rory ignored him, his attention already on Lola. “Try it. Focus on the weapon—Identify.”
Lola gave Rory a look, then turned to the weapon. She exhaled slowly, raised her hand, and whispered, “Identify.”
A familiar flicker of light bloomed in the air. The robotic voice echoed once more, smooth and eerie.
Status Report
Detecting Weaponry: Appraisal Mode
Item: Edge of Pandemonium
Type: Warblade (Artifact-Grade)
Description: This artifact-grade warblade was reborn through direct fusion with a Zerodian Core Fragment infused with the essence of Aneaessenan. It’s obsidian-black blades are coated with crimson threads that pulse like living veins, radiating raw malice.
The weapon is semi-sentient. It remembers.
Residual Signature Detected: Weapon has retained core attributes from it’s previous form. Under high-stress resonance, the warblade may be split into two sabres.
Caution: Prolonged use may result in psychological deterioration and wielder may experience hallucinations, compulsions, or auditory phenomena.
The screen vanished with a low hum, and silence fell over the forest clearing like a dropped curtain.
Sammy stared at the sword, hands tight around its hilt. Even his usual bravado had faltered.
Pupster was the first to speak. “So… Sammy has an evil sword now. Great. That’s not going to be a problem at all.”
“It’s not evil,” Sammy snapped, the defensiveness in his tone only making him sound more guilty.
Lola folded her arms, one brow raised. “It literally whispers madness. And you’re glowing ominously.”
Nimby chirped in agreement from Sammy’s shoulder, wings fluttering.
Sammy shot him a look. “You too, Nimby?”
Rory, meanwhile, looked delighted. “Ah, chaos blades. Bringers of doom and dinner conversation. I love it.”
Lola glared. “This isn’t funny, Rory. That sword’s dangerous. If it’s going to start whispering to him, it could start influencing him.”
“Maybe,” Rory said, his tone a touch more serious now. “But it chose him. The fragment didn’t reject him—it bonded. That means something.”
Sammy flexed his grip on the hilt. “It feels... right. Like it’s always been mine.”
“That’s exactly what cursed sword owners say,” Pupster muttered.
Nimby chirped again—definitely laughing this time.
Rory tilted his head toward Lola. “Still, your Identify upgrade is promising. We’ve only scratched the surface of what your connection to the Zerodians can do.”
Lola didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on the blade a moment longer before she turned away. “Let’s just keep moving before that thing decides to get really familiar.”
Sammy chuckled, strapping the blade to his back. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Lola.”
They continued, pushing deeper into the woods. The laughter and light banter gradually returned—but Sammy’s hand stayed close to the hilt of his new weapon, and in the quiet moments between footsteps, he thought he could still hear something.
A whisper, faint and waiting.
? Tom Devoil, 2025. All rights reserved.
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