The next day dawned with a tense anticipation hanging in the air. The three designated groups, each marked by Sylene's gift of a uniquely colored bracelet, stood ready. These weren't mere trinkets; they were keys, capable of teleporting their wearers directly into the domain of their destined adversaries within the shadowy heart of the dark forest.
Our heroes, united yet divided by their upcoming trials, finally reached the forest's core. It was Anty who broke the charged silence. With a flick of his wrist, a holographic keyboard shimmered into existence on his forearm. A rapid series of taps echoed in the stillness before the ground beneath their feet erupted. A small, gaping chasm tore open, the air around it violently sucked inwards, revealing nothing but an oppressive darkness within.
Georg's voice, grave and steady, cut through the lingering tremors. "Know this," he began, his gaze sweeping over each of them, "this will not be a battle like the others. You must be serious from the very beginning. You know your opponents, or at least, you should know what they are capable of. Good luck, everyone. Give it everything you've got!"
Without another word, the anti-glitch group, their faces set with grim determination, plunged into the abyss. A moment of hesitation rippled through our heroes, a natural pause before the unknown. But it was Shimmon, ever the decisive one, who broke the spell. "Now or never!" he declared, his voice ringing with a fierce resolve. Grabbing Christy's and Saland's hands, he leaped into the darkness, pulling them with him until they vanished from sight.
Haytham watched the swirling void for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a familiar conviction hardened his features. "A samurai must never know fear," he stated, his voice low but firm. "Let us go, and let us win!" With that resolute pronouncement, Haytham's group, their hearts pounding with a mixture of trepidation and courage, followed their comrades into the chasm.
The world snapped into a jarring new reality for Haytham's group. They blinked, disoriented, to find themselves in a realm of absolute darkness, save for the ominous glow of violet lava circles that pulsed around them like malevolent eyes. Then, a voice, smooth and chilling, echoed from the unseen. "Do you like my arena? I crafted it especially for you."
The trio spun around, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons, but found only an oppressive void. Then, a figure materialized from the shadows, cloaked and hooded, obscuring their features. Yet, the voice… Haytham's breath hitched. "Brother? Is that you!?"
The figure chuckled, a dry, unsettling sound. "Indeed. It is I, Ryloc, your dear elder brother." With a flourish, Ryloc cast off his cloak, revealing himself fully. His appearance was striking, unsettling. Jet-black hair framed a face dominated by eyes with stark black sclera, piercing violet irises, and elongated, oval black pupils. He wore a black jacket over a black shirt adorned with three stark white horizontal stripes, and his lower half was clad in ripped black pants, akin to distressed jeans. In his hand, he casually held a katana with a matte black hilt.
A cruel smile stretched across Ryloc's lips. "Last time, in the high vault, I was merely toying with you. But now…" A dark energy began to swirl around him, the air growing heavy. "Now, I shall be serious. Demonic Form, Flames of Hellish Purgatory!"
The transformation was grotesque and terrifying. Ryloc's body was engulfed in writhing, dark flames, his form contorting and reshaping. Arms, legs, head, and torso morphed, hardening into a black, obsidian-like substance. Lines of pulsating violet energy snaked across his new form. Two leathery, demonic wings unfurled from his back. His eyes glowed with an intense violet light, now undeniably demonic. His frame expanded, muscles bulging, and the katana in his hand elongated, widening into a massive greatsword forged from the same dark material as his transformed body. From this monstrous blade, potent flames of violet and black erupted, licking at the surrounding darkness.
Despite the horrifying spectacle, the faces of our heroes remained resolute. Haytham's hand tightened on the hilt of his own katana. "Devil Rage… Complete Form!" he roared, unleashing his own inner darkness. A swirling vortex of dark energy erupted around him, consuming his body in its embrace. When the energy subsided, Haytham, too, had undergone a terrifying transformation. His eyes now burned with a crimson light, their pupils black and oval. His katana pulsed with a raw, red energy, and a crimson mark blazed in the center of his chest, branching out into intricate lines of red energy that coursed across his entire being. He settled into a battle stance, his gaze locked onto his corrupted brother. "I am ready."
Beside him, Ken reached up and slowly unwrapped the bandage that had concealed his demonic eye. As it was revealed, a palpable wave of violet energy radiated from him, enveloping his body in a strengthening aura. Rick, his features drawn in fierce concentration, channeled his inner power, a radiant yellow aura flaring to life around him. And finally, Sting, his eyes narrowed, unleashed a torrent of black energy that swirled around him, causing the very shadows on the ground to writhe and expand. They stood as a united front, ready to face the monstrous power of their fallen brother.
Meanwhile, Saland, Shimmon, and Christy found themselves abruptly thrust into an alien void. Utter darkness pressed in on all sides, with no discernible walls or ceiling. Their only source of light came from above, where massive beams of eerie green light pierced the gloom, illuminating a figure that slowly approached them. It was a humanoid shape, entirely black, its features indistinct until a grotesque mouth split its face, revealing rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. A voice, raspy and filled with malice, echoed in the emptiness. "Welcome, children. I have been expecting you. You have no idea how much I crave your deaths. I hope you remember me… I am Null."
Saland's eyes narrowed, his grief and anger reignited. "We haven't forgotten you. We will avenge Sharon! Elf Dive… Eyes of Foresight!" A shimmering, multicolored arc of light materialized behind him, coalescing into a bow. On his forehead, a third eye snapped open, its iris a kaleidoscope of colors, and his aura pulsed with the same vibrant hues.
Shimmon's stance shifted, his very being beginning to transform. "Divine Dragon Form… Full Mode!" His body contorted, scales shimmering as he fully embraced his draconic heritage. This time, both arms and legs shifted into powerful, clawed limbs. Two magnificent, multicolored draconic wings unfurled from his back. His hair bleached to a stark white, and both his eyes narrowed into reptilian slits, glowing with a vibrant, shifting spectrum. His draconic claws twitched, eager to strike.
Christy, her expression a mask of fierce determination, unleashed her own power. "Queen of Chaos!" An immense aura of swirling fuchsia energy erupted around her, bathing the darkness in its vibrant glow. Her eyes shimmered with the same intense hue, and her twin fans crackled with streaks of chaotic energy. She now wore a long, elegant violet gown that revealed her right leg, a stark contrast to the raw power she exuded. She settled into a poised stance, her fans held ready.
Null, observing their transformations with a chilling amusement, finally decided to unveil his own full power. "Well then," he hissed, the air around him beginning to crackle with an oppressive energy. "I shall get serious as well. Singularity Oblivion." An intense pressure began to emanate from him, a swirling vortex of dark blue aura engulfing his form. When it subsided, his form seemed to ripple with an unseen power. "Very well. Now I am ready."
In a starkly contrasting realm, the anti-glitch team found themselves within an enormous, pristine white chamber. Their eyes were drawn to the far end of the room, where a colossal white tower pierced the seemingly endless ceiling. Perched atop this ivory monolith was a white throne, and upon it sat a figure. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored white jacket and matching trousers, his white hair styled in carefully arranged downward-sweeping tufts. This glitch possessed the refined appearance of a human, yet his eyes flickered with an unsettling digital distortion, and an aura, unlike any they had encountered before, radiated from him. He rested one hand against his cheek, his legs casually crossed, an air of supreme confidence surrounding him.
Kyofei, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon, broke the silence. "So, you are Tarvaror… the primordial glitch."
At the sound of his name, the figure slowly rose from his throne, his movements languid yet carrying an undeniable weight of power. "Indeed," he purred, his voice smooth and chilling. "I am he. I have existed since the very genesis of this world, and I am the strongest glitch to ever walk its surface. I have feasted upon the souls of countless humans throughout these long eons. We glitches are the superior species, and we shall inherit this world, becoming the new humans."
With a casual gesture, Tarvaror extended his right hand, a potent aura swirling around it. "Prepare yourselves," he announced, his glitched eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "For this… this is the power of human souls. You are merely fuel for our ascension, the very essence that will make us stronger!"
The anti-glitch team, their faces grim, braced themselves for the inevitable clash. With synchronized movements, they drew their weapons, the cold steel glinting in the ethereal white light of the chamber. The battle for the fate of their world was about to begin.