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KEPLER — THE SURFACE BATTLE
The overworld of Kepler erupted in chaos, a massive explosion booming across the barren, toxic landscape like the roar of an enraged god. Dust clouds billowed into the sky, obscuring the perpetual twilight, as a void hunter—a shadowy assassin from the abyss, clad in writhing darkness and wielding powers that bent reality—clashed with eight of the strangest warriors imaginable. One hailed from Kepler itself, a hardened survivor of the underground depths, while the other seven were elite fighters from nearby planets, drawn by rumors of a stolen artifact: the Gem, a relic of untold power.
The void hunter battled them all, his form a blur of lethal precision, dodging blows that could shatter mountains. A government-aligned warrior, his armor gleaming with official insignia, lunged forward, his voice a guttural snarl. "Where is the Gem, motherfucker?"
The hunter's eyes gleamed with rage, his lips curling into a vicious grin. "In your ass," he spat, before landing a devastating blow that sent the warrior crashing through nearby cliffs, rocks avalanching in his wake, burying the man in rubble.
From above, another warrior soared through the air, his sword fully charged with crackling energy, descending like a meteor. But the void hunter dodged somehow—twisting through the void itself, reappearing unscathed. Two more warriors, chanting in unison, summoned a giant stone golem, its fists the size of boulders, launching tons of devastating blows that cracked the earth and sent shockwaves rippling outward.
The void hunter barely escaped, his body a canvas of fresh wounds—limbs and arms torn from previous battles to steal the Gem—now reopening, blood seeping through his dark attire. He gritted his teeth, pain fueling his fury.
Then, a knight among them—a warrior from the world of Song, wielding a blade that hummed with melodic power—unleashed his ultimate attack. "Song of Death!" he bellowed, his voice resonating like a funeral dirge. The surrounding ground trembled, the air vibrating with lethal harmonics. The void hunter took a direct hit, falling to his knees as agony ripped through him, even the summoned stone giant shattering into pebbles under the sonic onslaught.
The eight warriors drew their blades, converging to finish him off, their weapons raised for the killing blow.
But the void hunter laughed—a creepy, echoing cackle that sent chills through the air—his smile twisted and inhuman. "Boom," he whispered.
His body shattered into several minute pieces, exploding outward in a burst of dark energy. The warriors recoiled, collateral damage ripping through their ranks—limbs severed, armor pierced, blood spraying in arcs. The seven non-Kepler warriors sighed in relief, believing the monster dead, their chests heaving from exertion.
But the eighth warrior, the government operative, stood amidst the shattered pieces, his stance high-alert, blade at the ready. He sensed it—a trap. A laugh echoed through the air of Kepler, chilling and unmistakable: the void hunter's voice.
The warriors froze in shock, but the operative acted swiftly, unleashing a torrent of flame from his core, burning every piece of the shattered body to ash. Not a single fragment remained. "It's the end for you, monster," he growled, his voice steady despite the horror.
The other seven freaked out, their eyes wide with terror, but before they could react, the void hunter burst forth from one of their own—shattering a warrior's body from the inside out in a spray of gore and bone. The victim screamed briefly before collapsing into a lifeless heap.
The void hunter grabbed another warrior's face, slamming it into the ground with bone-crushing force. The skull caved in, blood pooling instantly, the wet crunch echoing like a death knell. He took a step forward, his gaze locking onto the remaining six. "Are you ready for round two?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.
The six fixed their rage-filled gazes on him, weapons trembling but resolute. The battle raged on, the surface of Kepler trembling under the impact, cracks spreading like veins of doom.
Below, in the underground civilization, the massive tremors shook the tunnels, causing collapses and panic. Officials scrambled, planning reinforcements and even petitioning to align Kepler with the Celestial Government—a desperate bid for protection against the encroaching void.
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VALMORA — TRIARCH PALACE
In the opulent Triarch Palace of Valmora, the first person sat upon his throne, a figure of enigmatic power, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon beyond the floating sigils. A fighting noise erupted outside the throne room—clashes of steel, shouts of combat—yet he listened calmly, as if it were mere background music to his thoughts.
The doors burst open, and a masked man entered, his presence warping the air with old malice. The first person's face shifted, recognition dawning like an unwelcome memory. "Welcome, Mask," he said, his tone laced with irony.
The masked man tilted his head, his voice smooth and mocking. "So this is how you treat your visitors?"
"Just for you," the first person replied, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back. "I thought you were dead, Mask."
The masked man chuckled darkly. "Until my goal is accomplished, no one can stop me."
The first person let out a smirk of his own, eyes narrowing with intrigue. "What made you come in person, Mask?"
"They are digging a pit," the masked man said cryptically.
The first person leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "A pit?"
"Yes," the masked man confirmed. "The pit for the noble house Sirius!"
The first person's face twisted—a volatile mix of shock, fear, excitement, horror, and twisted happiness—before settling into a stable, evil smirk. He locked eyes with the masked man.
The masked man continued, his tone cold and calculative. "It is starting with the death of the noble Vesper Sirius."
The first person asked calmly, "What about Seraphon Sirius?"
"It would end with Seraphon," the masked man replied, his words hanging like a death sentence.
The first person let out a laugh, standing from his throne. He descended the staircase slowly, crossing paths with the masked man, his steps deliberate. "Where are you going?" the masked man asked.
"Aren't we going to do our part?" the first person replied, his voice echoing as he kept moving.
The masked man couldn't control his evil laugh, bursting forth in waves. "You haven't changed."
"Neither have you, Mask," the first person shot back, a grin spreading as they walked side by side into the shadows of conspiracy.
The palace doors closed behind them, sealing the fate of House Sirius—and perhaps the multiverse itself—in darkness. The echoes of battle outside faded, but the true war was only beginning.
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