???: “You’re not ready yet.”

The voice echoed in Raiga’s head. Calm. Cold. Ancient.

???: “Now watch… This is how you use it.”

His scream tore through the desert.

Not human. Not animal.

Something else.

Something… waking up.

The sand trembled.

The air warped.

Reality itself seemed to stretch around him like heat over flame.

Raiga: “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

Raiga fell to his knees, clawing the ground, his fingers digging trenches into the dirt.

His breath came out as smoke. His eyes rolled back.

And then—

BOOM.

A blast of flame erupted from his back—blue fire, not like anything the world had seen.

It wasn’t burning air.

It was burning existence.

Raiga’s body arched backward, his chest exposed to the sky.

His mouth vanished.

His face changed—white hai, spirit eyes, unreadable.

The fire wrapped around him.

Not as armor.

As a being.

A spiritual shell formed, half-transparent, half-physical.

An ethereal warrior, cloaked in shimmering soulfire.

His arms pulsed with flame. Symbols ran across his skin like molten ink.

From within the smoke, he stood.

Tall. Still.

No longer Raiga.

Something else.

Something worse.

The Spirit had taken over.

And it didn’t breathe.

It just watched.

––

Across the field, the Prophet stepped forward.

His men had already retreated. They felt it. The pressure. The pull.

Even the wind had stopped.

The Prophet didn’t flinch.

He was smiling. Eyes wide. Wild.

Prophet: “YES… YES!! This is it! The source! The spark! The TRUE core!!”

He spread his arms like he was worshipping a god.

Prophet: “They were right! You’re the real spark! THE TRUE CORE! You’re the reason of all this chaos, the trophy of this cursed world… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I will tame you. And by that, I will put an end to this endless war…”

His laughter twisted into shrieking madness.

He tore off his coat and let it fall like dead skin.

Beneath, armor of a different kind.

Dark. Smooth. Almost organic.

In the center of his chest, a meteora shard pulsed, black as obsidian, rippling like oil.

His body cracked with power. Muscles tensed. Veins glowed.

His skin shimmered in and out of the shadows.

Prophet: “Let’s see what you’re capable of!”

He slammed his fist into the ground.

The earth bent.

The shadows warped.

Two monsters.

Two truths.

One battlefield.

BOOM.

The Prophet vanished.

One second he stood—

The next, a shockwave ripped through the battlefield.

Black tendrils of shadow twisted behind him like whips of antimatter. His figure blurred—then reappeared mid-air, fist first, aimed directly for Raiga’s skull.

CRACK.

The world snapped.

But Raiga—wasn’t there.

He was already gone.

A streak of blue fire shot sideways. Sand exploded upward.

The Prophet spun, his foot carving through the ground like a blade.

Another miss.

His eyes twitched.

Then—BLINK.

Raiga appeared behind him.

A single palm pressed into the Prophet’s back.

BOOM.

The Prophet was launched like a bullet, ricocheting off the dunes, tearing through a stone pillar with enough force to vaporize it.

Before the dust settled—

He roared back.

Black claws, dark as void, swiped through the air, bending light with each strike.

Each hit could split tanks in half.

Each dodge by Raiga—effortless.

No wasted steps.

No emotion.

Just precision.

Like he’d seen it all before.

WHAM—CRACK—FLASH!

To the outside eye: chaos.

To them: a conversation of death.

The Prophet gritted his teeth.

Prophet: “You’re just a shell… a corpse pretending to be divine!”

He rushed in again—his fists now pulsing with void energy, forming crescent waves of black fire.

He hit Raiga point-blank.

Nothing.

Raiga didn’t move.

Then—

BAM.

A knee to the Prophet’s gut.

His ribs shattered.

BOOM—BACKFIST.

The Prophet skidded across the battlefield, coughing black blood.

He stood, chest heaving, twitching.

Still laughing.

Prophet: “You’re holding back… aren’t you? Hah! Hahaha! That pathetic brat’s body can’t handle that power, and you know it! Come on… show me! Reveal it, your true form! I want to see it. Let the world witness… AS I BRING DOWN A REAL GOD!”

The Prophet charges—

A blur of limbs and black light.

He laughs. Loud. Hysterical.

The world shakes.

A blow aimed at Raiga’s throat. Missed.

Right knee. Missed.

Prophet: “I’M THE ONE WHO BREAKS YOU!”

Elbow. Missed. Foot stomp. Missed. Spine crush. Missed.

Raiga tilts his chin. Just once.

A straight punch.

Right into the Prophet’s ribcage.

CRACK.

The Prophet folds. Coughs blood.

Spits.

He rushes again.

Spins. Slashes. Screams.

His whole body a storm.

Prophet: “You’re MINE, monster! You BELONG in CHAINS!”

Raiga shifts. Barely.

A chop to the neck.

The Prophet collapses on one knee, gasping.

“You’ll kneel. You’ll kneel and BEG.”

Raiga kicks him across the sand.

Silence.

⸻

On the ridge, the soldiers freeze.

Soldier 1: “…This can’t be real…”

Soldier 3:  “THE GIRL! Look at her!”

Eyes shift.

Liara. Still lying there. Still broken.

But the dust around her… it moves.

A faint pulse. Like air breathing. Like something… ancient.

Soldier 2: “What… is that…?”

The Prophet hears it too.

He grins, teeth bloody.

Prophet: “YES. That’s it! Your little light! I’ll END her again—”

Raiga twitches.

A blur.

Ten blows in one heartbeat.

Ribs. Jaw. Throat. Spine. Gut. Legs. Chest. Neck.

The Prophet is launched—

He slams into a stone ridge, shattering it.

He laughed.

Spat blood.

Then—he looked up. And something snapped.

Prophet:  “You feel that? That pulse in your chest right now? That’s the world watching you. All of it. Every kingdom, every faction, every blood cult and warlord. They want you. They pray for you.”

He stood, legs shaking, arms twitching.

Prophet: “You’re the last piece. The missing key. If you bow, if you let us take you… everything will end.”

No more war. No more blood. No more fear. A new world.”

Raiga doesn’t move.

The wind shifts.

His face still unreadable. His breath calm, detached.

⸻

Somewhere inside…

Raiga screamed.

But no one heard it.

Not even himself.

⸻

Prophet: “They used to whisper your name in the cathedrals. They said when you wake up, the sky would break. And I said—good. Let it break.”

He wipes blood from his lips. Smears it across his mouth like warpaint.

Prophet: “Because I’m the only one who can bring you down.”

The Prophet’s eyes burned with bloodlust.

The shadows around his body surged—then tore outward.

From the darkness: two massive jaws, shaped from pure void.

Gnashing. Screaming. Chomping through the ground like paper.

Each tooth—ten feet long. Serrated. Flickering with glitchlight.

Prophet: “You feel that? That’s DEATH trying to get in!”

He raised both hands—and the fangs obeyed.

The earth split in front of him.

One swipe. A deep canyon.

Another. A boulder erased into mist.

He charged again.

This time, not with hands.

With everything.

Kicks. Claws. Elbows. Palms. Fists.

Each blow was a blur.

Twelve strikes a second.

Each one a killshot.

Each one screaming with void energy.

⸻

Raiga stood still.

Then, he moved.

First dodge.

Shoulder shift.

Wrist twist.

Step back. Parry. Rotate. Kneel. Duck.

Not flashy. Not showy.

Just perfect.

Cold precision. Absolute calm.

The Prophet sent two shadow blades from the sky like guillotines.

Raiga sidestepped both. Without blinking.

Then, he lowered into stance.Slow. Measured.

Palms open. Legs loose.

Weight centered.

Prophet: “Oh-ho—what’s this?! NOW you’re taking me seriously? Come on then. Come on! LET ME SEE IT… SHOW ME WHAT AN HEIR OF FIRE LOOKS LIKE!!”