The Immortals of Notoriouslandia
Chapter Fourteen: The Sword and the Shadow
The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the celestial bird refused to perch near the Sealed Door, instead circling the ruins high above. Morning crept in, and with it… another pulse of visionary energy.
All four heroes froze mid-breakfast as their surroundings dimmed, the runes of the padlock glowing brightly—then blindingly.
And then—
The Immortals returned.
Their figures floated again above the firelight, their presence heavier this time.
Lux's voice came first, colder, more urgent.
"Another guardian has awakened…"
Technical, data-ghost flickering in and out:
"Not from our world. This one was taken… copied… forged from Sapphire's reality before we fell."
Arthur, his form burning hotter than before:
"It is the final seal. One not born of this realm, but tied to your team."
The vision shattered.
And from the sky—it came.
The Final Guardian – Crystaleon
With a sound like broken glass screaming, the air above them shattered, and through the rift dropped a creature of impossible beauty and savage power:
Crystaleon.
A lion-shaped monster forged entirely of living crystal. Prism spikes ran down its spine. Its body shimmered in rainbow hues, fractaling with every breath. From its mouth, it charged and fired concentrated lasers, each beam flickering with galaxies inside—pulling destructive energy from Sapphire's home universe.
Its eyes burned white.
It roared, and even the ancient stone of Notoriouslandia shivered.
The Battle of Radiance and Will
Sapphire was the first to act.
"It's from my home… but this one's twisted. Let's end this."
She blinked across the battlefield, twin crystal sabers in hand, clashing blade to claw as her dimensional energy collided with Crystaleon's own.
Kukranchunlikryting launched multi-phase toxins, which refracted off the creature's hide, warping into kaleidoscopic spores that tore holes in the air.
Mr. Shonk, riding a wave of Bontaine energy, grappled the creature's tail, dragging it from the platform and smashing it into a half-collapsed obelisk.
"Someone call animal control—this thing just lit up my liver!"
Crystaleon roared again, firing a starbeam directly at Descentedrain, who caught it midair and redirected it into the sky, his eyes glowing with Immortal flame.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, "but you're in our way."
After ten brutal minutes of crashing beams, teleportation duels, and coordinated strikes, Sapphire shouted:
"NOW, DRAIN!"
Descentedrain surged upward with a kinetic burst, summoned a vortex of gravity around Crystaleon, and compressed the light within it—until it collapsed in on itself with a thunderous boom, exploding into harmless, shimmering shards.
Silence.
Then…
A pulse.
The Door Opens
The Sealed Door's padlock blinked.
And with a small click—unlatched itself.
Descentedrain stepped forward as the others watched, breath held.
He pressed his palm against the massive door.
A bright, pure light spilled outward as the stone split open with agonizing slowness, revealing an ancient chamber of untouched design. Inside:
The Galactic Sword of Wisdom.
It floated above a pedestal, suspended in a beam of blue-white starlight. The blade was pure silver, inscribed with symbols of the three Immortals. Its hilt pulsed with gravity, knowledge, and fire.
Sapphire whispered:
"It's real…"
But before Descentedrain could move closer—
A wave of dark energy pulsed behind them.
And from a rip in the wall—Joab stepped out.
Ink-black armor. A cloak of shredded glyphs. A crown of broken sketches. His eyes glowed like dripping tar.
"That blade's not for you, Descendedrain," Joab growled."It belongs to someone with real vision."
Descentedrain stepped between him and the sword.
His voice was calm. Cold.
"You're already too late."
Joab raised his corrupted sketchbook.
Descentedrain's hands lit with Immortal power.
Their eyes locked.
Their feet slid back, charging energy.
The sword pulsed behind them—waiting for its true wielder.
Joab stood before them, corrupted and pulsing with raw darkness.
His armor flexed with ink-twisted power, his sketchbook hovering midair, pages flipping as if alive.He stared at Descentedrain, his expression a twisted mixture of hatred and awe.
"You still don't get it," he growled. "You were meant to follow. But I was meant to create."
Descentedrain didn't respond.
Behind him, the Galactic Sword of Wisdom glowed—bright, steady, and silent. A weapon that knew when to speak… and when to judge.
Joab raised his hand.
"Then let's finish the story."
The Final Battle Begins
He snapped his fingers—and the shadows in the chamber twisted.
From the walls, floor, and cracks in the pedestal, a dozen dark figures emerged—vaguely human, but melted at the edges. Eyes like dying stars, arms like brushstrokes gone wrong, movements like corrupted animation.
They rushed the team.
Kukranchunlikryting launched acid grenades in tight spirals, slowing three down.
Mr. Shonk spun with his trident, deflecting strikes and slamming two into the wall, roaring:
"You're not even boss-tier minions!"
Sapphire blinked behind another, slicing its shadow-arm off, her eyes flashing with fury.
Descentedrain stayed by the sword, watching Joab, not the chaos.
Joab didn't move.
He only smiled.
"Distraction."
The Sword Rejects Him
While the team fought, Joab ran forward—leaping over a crumbling step, landing before the pedestal.
He reached out, black fingers trembling.
"Mine—!"
The moment his hand touched the Galactic Sword of Wisdom, it reacted.
A beam of pure light burst upward from the hilt—engulfing Joab in a column of divine fire.
He screamed.
The dark figures froze.
The sword's light didn't burn like flame—it unwrote him.
His armor cracked. His sketchbook disintegrated into floating symbols.His body convulsed, pulled apart piece by piece by truth, by judgment, by everything he had twisted.
Joab tried to crawl back.
"No—wait—I saw the end—I—!"
His final word was silence.
Then his body exploded into black dust, scattered by a warm wind.
The dark figures dissolved, like lies beneath sunlight.
The Chosen One Rises
Only then did Descentedrain step forward.
The others turned toward him, bloodied and stunned.
He gripped the Galactic Sword of Wisdom.
And pulled.
There was no resistance.
It slid free like it had waited a thousand years just for his touch.
Light flooded the chamber.
The sword hummed—not like a weapon, but like a voice.
Descentedrain began to levitate, suspended in the beam of light.
The Immortals appeared—Arthur, Technical, Lux—their forms brighter than ever before.
And behind them…
Monday.
Smiling. Silent. Proud.
The Gift of Legacy
The light that surged from Descentedrain arced outward.
To Sapphire.
To Mr. Shonk.
To Kukranchunlikryting.
Each was lifted briefly, glowing as energy poured through them—enhancing, evolving, awakening something long buried.
They gasped as the light faded.
Descentedrain floated down slowly, the sword now strapped across his back—glowing, waiting.
The Immortals gathered for the final time.
Arthur spoke:
"You have passed every trial. The sword has chosen."
Technical's voice, firm but proud:
"You carry our legacy. But our time is done."
Lux closed his eyes:
"This is the last you will see us."
Then Monday stepped forward, placing a hand on Descentedrain's shoulder.
"Make something better than we did."
"Not perfect. Just... better."
He faded first.
Then Lux.Then Technical.Then Arthur.
Gone.
The Last Chain
The ground trembled.
The Door of Never, though distant, sent out a pulse of dread.
The final chain cracked—not broken, but fractured.
The sound echoed through the ruins.
The storm had not yet arrived—but it had seen them.
And it was coming.