Act I: The Silence of Sovereigns
The smoke from the lightning strike didn't dissipate; it hung over the Arena of Pandemonium like a shroud. In the center of the scorched sand, Silas lay still. His skin pulsed with a rhythmic, bioluminescent light veins of oceanic blue and tectonic gold fighting for dominance beneath his translucent flesh.
Above him, the world had frozen. The thousands of demons in the stands were silent, their predatory instincts replaced by a primal, lizard-brain fear. They had just witnessed a "Dross" slave manipulate the two most sacred elements of the Primod royal line, topped by a bolt of white lightning that shouldn't exist in this realm.
King Asmodeus was the first to move. He stood, his violet aura expanding like a supernova, forcing the nearest nobles to their knees. "Inquisitors!" he roared, his voice echoing in every mind within the arena. "Secure the subject! He is a biological weapon, a spy of the highest order!"
"Touch him," King Leviathan interrupted, his voice a low, terrifying growl that caused the water-mains beneath the stadium to burst, "and I will drown this floating island in its own blood. That boy carries the Sovereign Pulse. He is of Gaia, not Gehenna."
Queen Behemoth didn't speak. She leaped from the royal box, her massive form hitting the sand with the force of a meteor. The impact didn't shatter the ground; the earth moved to cushion her. She knelt beside Silas, her hand hovering over his chest. She could feel it the triple heartbeat.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"He is more than just Gaia," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Leviathan... look at the scarring on his back."
Under the shredded remains of his tunic, Silas's skin was knitting itself back together with impossible speed. But where the lightning had struck him, a new mark was forming: a golden crown of thorns that flickered with static electricity.
Act II: The Void Between Realms
Inside his own mind, Silas was falling.
He wasn't in the arena anymore. He was in a place of infinite white marble and golden fog. The air here tasted like ozone and honey.
"You're late," a voice boomed. It wasn't the heavy, crushing voice of the Primods or the oily, manipulative voice of the Demons. It was a voice that sounded like a summer storm terrifyingly loud but strangely comforting.
Silas looked up. Standing before him was a man who looked like a mountain carved into human form. He wore a chiton of woven silver, and his eyes were literal clouds, swirling with dark lightning. Beside him sat a woman with hair like a sunburst, her presence radiating a physical weight that made Silas's "Super Strength" feel like child's play.
"Grandfather?" Silas croaked.
The man, Zeus, laughed, a sound that shook the golden fog. "Grandson. You've finally stopped pretending to be a flickering candle. It took a Prince of Salt trying to kill you to wake up the Thunder in your blood."
"They'll kill me," Silas said, looking at his hands, which were sparking with white light. "The Demons want me as a weapon. The Primods will want me as a trophy. I'm a monster to both."
"You are the Bridge," the woman, Hera, said, her voice filled with a fierce, maternal pride. She stepped forward and touched his forehead. "You possess the Might of the Myths the strength to move the stars. You possess the Will of the Sky. But you are also of the Earth and the Sea. You are the only being in existence who can feel the world as it truly is."
"I'm just a student," Silas argued, the memories of his life as a "Dross" servant flashing before him. "I've spent eighteen years scrubbing floors and hiding my breath."
"The hiding is over," Zeus said, his expression turning grim. "The bolt I sent down was a beacon. It told the Realms that the Myths are not dead they are reborn in you. They will come for you now, Silas. Not just the Kings, but the Ancients who sleep beneath the crust. You must master the three hearts, or they will tear you apart to see how you work."
Act III: The Interrogation of Souls
Silas gasped, his eyes snapping open.
He wasn't in the arena. He was in a chamber of pure diamond, suspended in the air. Outside the transparent walls, he could see the bubbling lava of Gehenna far below. He was in the Inquisition Spire, the most secure location in the Demon Realm.
His hands were bound in "Nullification Shackles" heavy iron cuffs etched with runes designed to drain a demon's fire. But Silas didn't feel drained. He felt... annoyed. The shackles felt like plastic toys.
"I wouldn't try to break those," a voice said from the corner.
Princess Elara was sitting in a chair, her face pale and her eyes red from weeping. Beside her stood her father, the Arch-Duke, and two High Inquisitors of the Asmodeus line.
"Elara?" Silas rasped.
"Silas, you're an idiot," she whispered, though she didn't look away. "Why didn't you just lose? Why did you have to summon the sky?"
"I didn't choose it," Silas said.
The door to the chamber vanished, and the four sovereigns stepped in. The room became impossibly crowded. The air pressure fluctuated wildly as Leviathan's oceanic aura clashed with Beelzebub's heat.
"Enough theatrics," King Asmodeus said, his eyes glowing a deep, dangerous violet. He stepped toward Silas. "Look into my eyes, boy. Tell me who sent you. Are you a construct of the Myths? A sleeper agent grown in a Gaia lab?"
Silas felt the mental probe a slimy, invasive force trying to pry open his memories. In the past, Silas would have cowered. But now, the "Third Heart" surged.
A wall of white lightning slammed shut in Silas's mind. Asmodeus recoiled, clutching his head, a trickle of blood running from his nose.
"He... he blocked me," the Demon King gasped, disbelief shattering his regal mask. "A commoner blocked a First-Circle Arch-Demon!"
"He is no commoner," Queen Behemoth said, stepping forward. She looked at the shackles. "And those toys won't hold him. He has the strength of the High Mother in him."
She reached out and flicked the iron cuffs. They shattered into dust.
"Silas," she said, her voice soft now, almost pleading. "Come with us. To the Primod Realm. We can protect you. We can teach you the language of the stones and the song of the deep. Here, you are a prisoner. With us, you are... royalty."
"Royalty?" Silas laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "You hunted my parents. You helped erase the Myths. Now you want me because I can do things your son can't?"
Leviathan flinched at the mention of Triton. "Your existence is a bridge, boy. If the Demons keep you, they will use your power to extinguish the suns. If we take you, we can restore the balance."
Act IV: The Tribrid's Choice
Silas stood up. He felt the three powers within him Water, Earth, and Lightning revolving like three celestial bodies. The Demon fire was still there too, a small, dark ember in the center of the storm.
"I'm not going with any of you," Silas said.
The room went cold. Beelzebub's flames flared to a brilliant white. "You think you have a choice? You are in the heart of Gehenna. You are surrounded by the strongest beings in existence."
"I do have a choice," Silas said, his voice gaining a resonance that caused the diamond walls of the spire to crack. "Because none of you understand what I am. You see a weapon. You see a prince. You see a threat."
He turned to Elara. "And you? What do you see?"
Elara looked at him, her voice trembling. "I see the boy I found in the river. But I also see... someone who could break the world if he's not careful."
"Then I'll be careful," Silas said.
He raised his hand. He didn't summon fire or water. He reached into the very fabric of the air the ozone Zeus had shown him.
CRACK.
A localized teleportation circle, powered by Mythic electricity, erupted beneath him. It was a technique lost for five thousand years.
"He's jumping!" Asmodeus screamed, lunging forward with a psychic net.
But it was too late. Silas looked at the four Kings and Queens one last time. "The Tournament isn't over. I'll be at the Academy tomorrow. But I won't be a 'Dross' anymore. And I won't be your puppet."
In a flash of blinding white light, Silas vanished from the Spire, leaving the four most powerful beings in the world standing in a room of shattered diamond.