Tristan crashed into the room, causing Mark and his soldiers to freeze in shock. "What do you think you're doing?" shouted Mark, his voice filled with fury and confusion. All his soldiers aimed their weapons at Tristan, ready to fire.
"Just give me the kid, Mark, and I'll let you leave alive!" Tristan yelled, aiming his gun directly at Mark.
"I don't understand, you did your job for me. Why are you doing this?" Mark's voice wavered, a mix of fear and desperation.
"Just hand him over, or I'll kill you," Tristan threatened, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"If I hand him over to you, I'm dead," Mark cried. "Just leave right now, and we can pretend this didn't happen."
Tristan stood firm, showing no signs of leaving. "Why do you have to make my life so much harder than it already is?" Mark shouted in frustration. "Fire!"
The room erupted in a barrage of blasts as the soldiers opened fire. Tristan moved swiftly, dodging the shots and jumping to the side. He ran towards the top of the room, firing back at the soldiers with precision. His movements were a blur, his training and reflexes allowing him to evade the incoming fire. One soldier went down, followed by another who panicked before meeting the same fate.
"Stop it, please!" Mark pleaded as Tristan rushed the last soldier, dodging blasts and delivering a fatal shot to the head.
"I don't understand. What did I ever do to you?" Mark backed away, his voice trembling.
"Just give me the kid," Tristan demanded again.
"I would rather die!" Mark shouted, drawing a long, curved blade from within his sleeve. He swung at Tristan, knocking the gun from his hand.
"You killed all my men, my friends!" Mark screamed, launching a series of relentless attacks at Tristan. "And for what? Some stupid kid you knew for a few days!"
Tristan dodged Mark's furious slashes, using his Martine to evade the attacks. Blood trickled from his mouth as he coughed and quickly swallowed a pill, then unsheathed his own blade. Their swords clashed, a metallic symphony of violence.
Mark's attacks grew more desperate and reckless, but Tristan remained composed. He pushed Mark back, then lunged forward with a powerful swing. Mark blocked, but it was clear he was outmatched. Tristan's blade cut a small line across Mark's cheek, drawing blood.
Mark swung wildly, but Tristan blocked every slash. They clashed again, their blades locked. Tristan knocked Mark's arm upward with a swift slash, then followed with a precise cut, severing Mark's hand. Mark screamed in agony, staggering back.
Tristan didn't relent. He slashed again, cutting off Mark's other hand. Mark fell to his knees, his screams echoing through the room.
Tristan levelled his blade at Mark, the steel glinted. "Now back down," he commanded.
Mark, reduced to a pitiful figure on the floor, turned his gaze towards the shattered window through which Tristan had burst. His voice trembled as he muttered to himself, "I could never live up to your expectations."
Tristan watched Mark grovel on the floor. Mark's eyes, though hollow, were fixed on the sky as he extended his arm—now a mere stump. "I'm sorry, Alex," he choked out.
Without warning, Mark's sorrowful apology gave way to a harrowing scream. The sky once cloudy and , began to darken, the sun was gradually consumed by an encroaching shadow. From above, the Abyss, long sealed by the Kronos brothers, began to expand with unsettling speed, its malignant presence growing ever larger.
Mark's anguished cries intensified as dark energy surged around him, cocooning him in a shroud of darkness. Tristan, charged forward, only to be violently repelled by the dark force encircling Mark. The shockwave sent him crashing to the ground, his efforts thwarted by the overwhelming darkness.
As Mark's screams grew louder, the dark energy swirled tighter around him, a relentless vortex of dark.
The planet was now cloaked in a suffocating darkness, pierced only by a glaring ring of fire that blazed defiantly in the sky covering the sun.
A man, his gaze fixed on the fiery ring that was in the sky, let out a low, frustrated murmur. "That can't be good. What have you fools done this time?"
Monsters of every conceivable shape and size began to swarm across the planet, their numbers growing in a relentless tide. The once-glorious Venima society, their defenders now absent, was powerless to intervene.
Meanwhile in another place
A man emerged from the Venima headquarters, his eyes drawn upward to the fiery ring that stained the sky. Blood was splattered across his scythe, he was tall, with long black hair tied tightly behind his head and eyes as dark as the void itself. He wore a feathered cape that fluttered in the wind, leather gloves, and heavy black boots.
This was Alex Kronos, the older brother. His gaze was filled with concern "What have you done, Mark?" he said.
Without hesitation, he unleashed a transformation. Dark, bat-like wings erupted from his back and with a powerful thrust, he took to the skies, soaring urgently toward Great-Alexander.
Mark's screams continued to pierce the air until, abruptly, they ceased. His pain-laden cries gave way to an eerie silence as his missing hand began to reform. Dark, sinuous lines of shadow wove themselves around his stump, gradually reshaping his arm. The agony intensified as his arms extended into long, black claws, the remnants of his severed appendage twisted into formidable talons.
The transformation was both grotesque. Mark's screams of pain abruptly stopped, replaced by a silence thick with menace. As he rose to his feet, Tristan kept his blade poised, the weapon glinting with lethal intent. Mark's eyes, now burning with a fierce, uncontrollable rage, locked onto Tristan.
The cathedral was illuminated by the fiery ring visible through the shattered window, casting a harsh light that allowed Tristan a clear view of Mark's transformed visage. The only sound in the room was the heavy, laboured breathing of Mark.
"Look what you've made me do," Mark growled, his voice full of agony. As he stood, dark energy surged around him, and from this swirling vortex, two additional limbs emerged, their forms as sinister as the energy that birthed them.
Mark's gaze remained fixed on Tristan as he spoke with chilling finality. "You will not live to see another day," he declared, his voice a cold promise of death. His arms, now endowed with new blades mirroring the one Tristan had previously encountered.
Mark charged at Tristan with the fury of a tempest, his movements a blur of relentless aggression. He brought his blade crashing down against Tristan's in a fierce clash. Tristan struggled to block the initial attack, but Mark's second blade came sweeping in. Tristan managed to deflect it just in time, but he couldn't keep up with the onslaught from the remaining two arms. The edge of Mark's blade sliced through his stomach, leaving a painful gash.
Desperately, Tristan kept using his Martine, evading a follow-up strike as he stumbled backward. Mark's assault continued , his attacks wild and unrestrained. He swung his blades with reckless abandon, his erratic style making it difficult for Tristan to predict and counter. Each swing of Mark's newly formed blades lagged slightly behind the initial onslaught, but the sheer volume and speed of the attacks kept Tristan on the defensive.
Tristan was struggling to keep pace. Blood spattered from his mouth as he narrowly dodged the violent swings. Mark's blades slashed mercilessly; one found its mark on the side of Tristan's face, while another pierced along his left arm. Tristan fought fiercely, his movements desperate and strained as he tried to ward off the ceaseless barrage.
Two of Mark's blades struck simultaneously, their combined force sweeping Tristan aside. Mark pressed his advantage with a brutal thrust, forcing Tristan back and driving him back. With a powerful leap, Mark hurled a blade in an arc toward Tristan. The edge of the blade cut deeply into Tristan's chest, and Mark used the momentum to swing Tristan around the room, the arc of the blade carving a vicious path through his skin.
Finally, Mark flung Tristan across the room, sending him crashing through a jumble of chairs and tangled wires. As Tristan struggled to his feet, he quickly swallowed a pill.
"Five minutes," Tristan thought to himself, his grip tightening around his blade. "Five minutes is all I need."
He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as electricity surged through his body once more. When he opened his eyes, they blazed with a fierce blue light. With renewed determination, he charged at Mark.
Mark, still disoriented from their earlier clash, swung his swords with a frenzied, chaotic rhythm. This time, Tristan's heightened senses allowed him to dodge each swing with precision. He slashed at Mark's arm, severing it once again, only for it to quickly regenerate. Undeterred, Tristan pressed his attack, his strikes relentless and calculated.
Mark staggered back, and their blades met in a furious close-quarters battle. Both warriors advanced with blistering speed, their weapons a blur as they clashed. Tristan moved with swift grace, expertly blocking, and deflecting Mark's relentless assault. He seized an opening and landed a decisive slash across Mark's chest.
Mark recoiled, his roar of pain fuelling his rage. He swung his remaining swords with even greater recklessness, his fury making him more dangerous than ever. Tristan, aware of the ticking clock and the impending collapse of his strength, matched Mark's reckless aggression with his own increasing intensity.
With a powerful swipe, Tristan severed two of Mark's arms and thrust his blade through Mark's chest. Mark's scream of agony was palpable as he desperately swung his remaining limbs in a futile attempt to counterattack. Tristan withdrew his blade and stepped back, preparing for the final blow.
Mark, trying to emulate his brother's flight capabilities, began to grow wings from his back, his dark energy swirling around him. But Tristan was quick to react. He slashed at the emerging wings, severing them with a precise cut before delivering a powerful kick that sent Mark sprawling to the ground.
Before Tristan could strike the finishing blow, Mark, still determined, grew two more limbs and forcefully shoved him across the room. Tristan was knocked to the ground but sprang up with renewed urgency. He charged back towards Mark, their blades meeting once more in a fierce exchange of slashes, blocks, and deflections.
Mark's movements grew sluggish, his energy waning with each failed strike. Tristan took advantage of the weakening defences, delivering a powerful slash that forced Mark to use all four blades in a desperate block. Tristan's assault broke through, slicing across Mark's body and severing his legs. Mark collapsed; his strength spent.
Tristan, barely holding on as his body weakened, staggered towards Mark. He lifted his blade, preparing to deliver the final, fatal strike. As he aimed for Mark's heart, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed him. His vision blurred, and he fell to the ground.
His 5 minutes were up.
Tristan regained consciousness on the cold floor, every inch of his body wracked with pain. His legs, arms, and especially his head hurt. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to rise. The effort was excruciating, but he managed to use his blade as a makeshift crutch, pushing himself up with it.
With a painful limp, he made his way to the far end of the room where the box awaited. As he walked, he noticed Mark lying on the floor, still somehow alive. Tristan's gaze shifted to his gun lying nearby. He picked it up.
Suddenly, Mark stirred, his voice barely audible. "You... won't get away," he rasped, coughing up blood.
Tristan, his attention fixated on the box, ignored Mark's feeble threat. He reached the box and opened it, revealing Apollo, who was asleep inside. With great care, Tristan lifted Apollo out and placed him gently on the side, making sure he was safe.
Mark, struggling to speak, tried to get Tristan's attention. "What?" Tristan asked, his voice strained. He moved closer to Mark, his movements slow. "What did you say?"
"He's coming here right now," Mark managed to say.
"Who? Who is?" Tristan Asked.
A voice answered from behind, cool and menacing. "I believe he is referring to me."
Tristan whirled around, The man stepped into view—Alex Kronos.
Tristan pointed his gun towards him.
"I wouldn't try that if I were you," Alex said calmly. "It won't end well for you if you could barely handle my little brother."
Alex's superiority was evident. Tristan, exhausted and battered, knew he was outmatched. Even if his body were at its peak, Alex's Abyssal powers and experience far surpassed Mark's.
Desperately, Tristan aimed the gun at Mark. "Take one more step and see what happens," he warned.
Alex paused. "Fine. But all I want is my brother. Hand him over, and I'll let you go."
Tristan's finger hovered over the trigger. "What about the kid?" he demanded. "Are you going to let him come with me?"
Alex sighed. "Fine. But don't think he'll be safe forever. Our leader is currently absent, but when he returns, the celestial will die."
"How can I trust you?" Tristan asked, his gaze fixed on Mark.
"If I wanted you dead right now, you'd be," Alex said with a cold edge. "But I'm not willing to risk my brother's life."
Reluctantly, Tristan stepped back, allowing Alex to approach Mark. With a swift motion, Alex picked up his brother. His dark wings unfurled once more, and with a powerful beat, he soared out of the broken window, vanishing into the night.
The silence that followed was profound, and Tristan's mind began to drift as he stood there, weary and spent.
The Kronos brothers had gone , The orange light emitted from the burning ring in the sky.
The silence was abruptly shattered by a fit of coughing. Tristan turned to see Apollo awake, his eyes wide with concern. Noticing Tristan, Apollo ran towards him.
This time, Tristan braced himself for a hug from Apollo, but instead, the boy kicked him in the leg.
"Ow! What was that for?" Tristan winced in pain.
"That was for giving me away to some weirdos," Apollo said, his arms crossed
"Sorry, kid," Tristan replied.
"Sorry?" Apollo's voice rose. "I could've died, you know."
"Look, I came back, okay?" Tristan said.
"I know," Apollo softened, his arms still crossed. "Thanks, Tristan."
Apollo turned to leave the room. "Where are you going?" Tristan asked, catching up.
"Away from here," Apollo answered without slowing.
He suddenly stopped and turned. "Tristan," he said.
"What is it?" Tristan asked, approaching.
"I want to go with you," Apollo said. "I pretty much have nothing—no friends, no family, no home. So, could I come with you?"
"Yes," Tristan replied, "I have plenty of space. You can come live with us."
"Us?" Apollo asked, confused. "I thought you didn't have any friends."
"I do have one," Tristan explained. "His name is Cullen. You'll probably like him."
"So does that mean you'll take me on jobs?" Apollo asked eagerly.
"Yes," Tristan said, "but if you live on my planet, you'll have to follow my rules. Understand?"
"Understood," Apollo confirmed.
"Can we go now?" Apollo asked, growing impatient with the surroundings.
"Let's go," Tristan agreed.
They walked back to the ship through the long corridor. Once outside, Apollo looked to the sky.
"What happened here ?" he said as he looked at the ring in the sky
" That's someone else's problem now" Tristan replied as he used his watch to bring the ship down. They both entered, and Tristan activated the engines, sending them into the cold, empty expanse of space.
Hours passed in silence, both of them exhausted from the ordeal. Eventually, Apollo made his way to the front of the ship. He had one last question for Tristan.
"Tristan," he began, "could you promise me you'll never abandon me again?"
Tristan looked at Apollo, then gazed out into the vastness of space. "I promise," he said, "I'll never abandon you again."
As the ship continued its journey, Tristan and Apollo headed home , the silence of space was comforting towards the both of them as they soared through the cold void of space.