Vrythlok lounged on his throne of blue crystalized stone, elbows resting lazily on the armrests as blue flames circled him like bored serpents.
The chamber crackled with quiet power… until the door creaked open.
The old woman stepped in.
He didn't look at her at first. He just inhaled slightly.
His eyes narrowed.
"…You reek of vampire scent," Vythlok said, finally lifting his gaze. "Where exactly are you coming from?"
She sighed, trying to hide the fact that she actually went to see Rylan.
"Why do you care? Last I checked, I'm your grandmother. You should learn to speak with some respect."
Vrythlok smiled, then he stood.
The flames around him twisted tight, compressing into a blade of glowing blue fire.
Before she could blink, he vanished... appearing right in front of her with the cold blade pressed against her throat.
"Don't forget your place, old woman, even if you're my grandmother, that doesn't mean I can't dispose of you whenever I feel like it." He said quietly.
She froze. Her breathing hitched.
The flames reflected in her eyes as her throat tensed around a hard swallow.
Vrythlok let the silence stretch… then chuckled.
"I like that look of fear on your face, so delightful." He said.
The blade dissolved back into swirling fire.
Vrythlok stepped away, returning to his throne as casually as if he'd only taken a short walk.
He sat, resting his cheek against his knuckles.
"…Kael is heading to Gargaloth," He said, amusement creeping into his tone.
"I can feel the fragment reacting. Funny little human with a hunger for revenge. Oh good Lord, humans are so stupid."
He released a deep, sharp, intentional laugh from his throat.
The old woman didn't respond. She knew better.
Vrythlok leaned forward slightly.
"Grandma," he said sweetly and mockingly. "Don't you think it's about time I pay a visit to Arla?"
Her expression tightened, jaw clenching.
"Do whatever you want."
"Sure, sure grandma, I'm the King after all." H said, waving her off.
"Don't strain yourself worrying. I'll be back… probably."
He stretched his arms behind his head, then snapped his fingers. The blue flames surged around him, swallowing his form.
Before she could even blink, the chamber erupted with a violent gust of wind, blowing her hair back and nearly knocking her off her feet.
When the air finally settled… Vrythlok was gone.
Only the smell of his fragrance remained.
° ° °
The throne room shuddered as Vrythlok appeared, his blue flames coiling around him.
The air became electric and tense, carrying the scent of his fragrance.
He stepped forward with his voice calm and dangerous, slicing through the silence.
"What's up old friend?" He said with an evil grin on his face.
Arla sat gently on his Nox throne, trying to control his demonic instincts from going wild due to the Voidborne power erupting from Vrythlok.
He didn't bother to answer him.
"Kael is on his way to Gargaloth, and soon… everything you hold will end." Vrythlok continued with his eyes glinting.
Arla rose from his throne, unable to control it anymore as violet light was spilling from his wings, illuminating the chamber like a storm in midair.
"Vrythlok," he said, voice low but firm. "You're far too confident."
Vrythlok smiled, the blue flames around him reacting to Arla's leaking powers as it turns to a blade that shimmered with lethal intent.
Without warning, Vrythlok leapt forward, moving faster than the eye could track.
In an instant, the blade hovered at Arla's chest.
"Don't forget your place," he hissed. "Even if you are my equal… even if you are my adversary… I decide whether you live."
Arla didn't flinch.
His violet energy flared, his wings spreading wide as a shockwave ripped through the room. Columns cracked. Chandeliers shattered, raining glass and firelight.
Then the clash.
Blue fire met violet energy in a titanic explosion.
The impact sent shockwaves that rattled stone, cracking walls and scattering debris.
Vrythlok spun, flames wrapping into twin blades, striking like lightning. Arla countered, his claws glowing, violet arcs slicing through the blue sparks and fragments flying with each strike.
They moved like storms made flesh... dashing, teleporting, spinning in midair. Every swing and counterstrike shook the throne room, with shards of crystal and stone floating in the energy-charged wind.
Vrythlok's laughter echoed. Calm and calculating.
"Predictable, Arla. Every move you make feeds my plan."
Arla's violet eyes narrowed, wings whipping the air.
"And yet, you still haven't won."
Vrythlok's blue blades cut through pillars, slicing clean stone midair. Arla responded, sending a flurry of violet spikes that shredded the floorboards where Vrythlok had stood a heartbeat ago.
They collided again, blue and violet energies crashing, the sound so deafening.
Flames licked the walls, dust and smoke blurred the room into chaos. Teleports, spins, and strikes happened in fractions of a second, faster than thought.
"Kael's arrival will decide everything," Vrythlok called, his voice echoing above the chaos.
Arla's wings flared with violet arcs striking like lightning, forcing Vrythlok back, but he countered with blue fire erupting in every direction, igniting stone and steel alike. They moved again, the fight spreading across the ruined chamber like a war between celestial forces.
Vrythlok's blue flames reshaped itself into an axe in his hand, slashing toward Arla. Arla's wings met it midair, sparks cascading from the point of impact. The clang resonated through the throne room, deafening in its intensity.
"You always strike too fast," Arla said, stepping back, spinning his sword into a spinning slash.
"Speed is nothing without precision," Vrythlok replied, swinging a fist charged with blue energy.
His punch smashed into Arla's torso. Violet energy exploded outward as Arla absorbed the blow, grunting.
Arla retaliated immediately.
He kicked upward, blue sparks flying as Vrythlok caught his boot midair, twisting it and throwing him back. Vrythlok landed on his feet, blue flames coiling around his arms.
"Predictable," he said, punching the floor and sending shards of stone toward Arla.
Arla leapt, spinning through the shards, landing behind Vrythlok. He swung his sword in a horizontal arc; Vrythlok blocked with a punch.
Their strike sent a shockwave, throwing both back a few meters.
"You rely too much on power," Arla said, eyes narrowing.
"And you underestimate strategy," Vrythlok countered, stepping forward.
He jabbed with a blue flaming blade, slashing toward Arla's shoulder. Arla blocked with the flat of his violet sword, sparks spraying.
Vrythlok followed with a left hook, striking Arla's ribs. Arla stumbled but quickly regained balance, spinning and delivering a flying kick to Vrythlok's chest.
The impact sent Vrythlok sliding across the floor, flames licking the stone.
Vrythlok laughed softly. "Is that all?"
He leapt into the air, fists crackling with blue fire. Arla readied his sword, swinging it upward as Vrythlok descended.
Their weapons collided midair again, creating a massive burst of light. Vrythlok's fist shot past the sword, smashing into Arla's jaw. Arla's head snapped back, but he countered with a knee to Vrythlok's stomach, forcing him back.
"You think a single strike will stop me?" Vrythlok asked, smirking with arrogance.
"I don't think," Arla shot back. "I act."
He launched a combination... kick, punch, spinning elbow. Each movement was precise, fast enough to blur.
Vrythlok blocked the first two, but the elbow caught his side, ripping a jagged cut in his blue flame armor.
Vrythlok roared, closing the distance in an instant. He grabbed Arla by the shoulders, slamming him into a shattered pillar. Stone exploded around them. Arla rolled, kicking Vrythlok in the face. Blue flames danced across the wall where his head struck, leaving scorched marks.
"You enjoy pain too much," Arla growled, gripping his sword tighter.
"I admire resistance," Vrythlok replied, spinning and delivering a spinning back kick to Arla's chest.
The blow sent him flying across the throne room. Arla landed on the floor, rolling to avoid a burst of blue flame shooting toward him. He jumped, twisting midair, and slashed downward with his violet sword. Vrythlok caught it with one hand, punching Arla's abdomen.
"You're fast… but not fast enough," Vrythlok said, eyes glinting.
Arla's wings flared, and he shot upward like a missile. Vrythlok followed, fists colliding midair.
Arla spun, slashing with his sword while simultaneously kicking Vrythlok's chest. The blue flame absorbed some, but the rest slammed him into a wall, shattering it.
"Kael's coming," Vrythlok said, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Do you feel it? The end of everything you've built?"
Arla's violet eyes flared. "You think I'll falter?"
He twisted, punching Vrythlok in the face. Sparks flew as blue flames scattered. Arla followed with a flying kick that sent Vrythlok crashing into another wall, leaving scorch marks.
Vrythlok stood, brushing off the rubble, smiling coldly.
"Oh, I don't think. I know. Kael will reach Gargaloth, and soon… everything you've protected will burn."
Arla charged, slashing with his sword in a horizontal sweep. Vrythlok caught it midair with one hand, spinning Arla into the wall. His other hand formed another blade of blue fire, stabbing at Arla's chest.
Arla rolled, kicking Vrythlok's legs out from under him. Vrythlok landed on the floor with his blue flames coiling around his fists like serpents ready to strike.
"You're barely using 20% of your power." Arla said through gritted teeth, swinging again.
"I could say the same for you." Vrythlok replied, sidestepping, launching a counterpunch so fast the air itself seemed to ripple.
Arla's eyes narrowed. He had tolerated Vrythlok's teasing, the punches, the kicks… the theatrics. But enough.
In an instant, his violet blade flared to life, a surge of energy so intense the air around it seemed to distort. He moved like a blur. Before Vrythlok could even react, the sword carved through him.
Vrythlok was in six separate pieces as each piece tumbled to the floor, spinning midair as if time itself had paused.
The sound of metal and flesh being sliced was impossibly sharp and crisp. Blood pooled beneath the fragments.
The throne room felt suspended in silence with every drop of blood frozen in the minds of anyone who witnessed it.
Then it happened.
The body began to shiver, the pieces rattling unnaturally.
From the dismembered fragments, a figure began to coalesce. Blue void energy seeped through cracks where flesh should have been. Limbs reformed as shadows of reality. Intangible yet solid.
Vrythlok's true form hovered above the floor... a being of pure void like Vryrion, a ghostly silhouette that flickered and shifted, eyes like twin blue stars burning cold.
The violet light of Arla's sword clashed against the infinite darkness of Vrythlok's form, and for a moment, the world itself seemed to hesitate, unsure which force would dominate.
"I've grown tired of toys," Arla muttered.
Vrythlok's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, chilling and serene:
"And yet… you've awakened me."
The charged air of the throne room shifted abruptly as heavy footsteps echoed across the polished floors. Malakor appeared, his presence slicing through the tension like a blade.
"Why don't y'all save this for later?" His tone carried anger, yet every movement and flick of his gaze screamed calm precision.
The silence hung for a heartbeat, then he spat, voice rolling like thunder:
"Y'all won't let me fuck my bitch in peace. TF is wrong with y'all?"
Even Arla's eyes flickered toward him, his violet sword still glowing, the aftershock of his last strike fading. The raw, oppressive energy that had filled the room now wavered, slightly tempered by Malakor's arrival.
Vrythlok's analyzed the scene, calculating. If he was to go against the both of them in his current state, he's likely to lose.
A subtle smirk curled at the edges of his ethereal face.
"I… think I'll retreat," he said softly, almost to himself. His voice carried no fear, only cold acknowledgment of the odds.
"You've gone rusty, Arla," he said loudly this time around. His tone was teasing, almost scornful. "Laryn would've done better."
Blue void energy condensed around him, forming a cocoon. And just like that, his presence blinked out of existence, leaving only the echo of his words and the lingering scent of danger in the air.
The throne room felt hollow, yet more dangerous than before.
Arla's fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as violet sparks crawled along his arms.
"How dare he compare me with that rotten half-vampire, half-human," he muttered through gritted teeth, voice low and dangerous.
His eyes burned like twin storms.
The echo of Vrythlok's words still lingered, twisting in the corners of his mind. "Laryn would've done better…"
Arla's chest heaved. Every fiber of his being screamed at the insult. "Laryn… that piece of trash… he thinks he's even close to me?"
He lifted his sword, the blade humming with residual violet energy.
"Kael," he muttered like the name's a curse. "Shit… I shouldn't have killed you when I had the chance."
"When you're done talking to yourself, you fix this mess." Malakor said before disappearing in annoyance.
Damnit.
* * * * *