Ahhhhhhhg!"
Tristan screamed, the sound echoing through the dense forest as he sprinted, each step pushing his body to its limits.
The simple simple realm though he couldn't harness its full power, but he could mimic its strength to flee.
As he darted past an ancient tree, a deafening snap echoed behind him. He risked a glance back, his heart racing as he witnessed the colossal trunk collapse like a matchstick, the ground trembling beneath its weight.
An unseen force was at work, a gravity storm expanding rapidly, its malevolent presence suffocating the air around him.
Adrenaline surged through his veins, propelling him forward as his footwork reached the simple realm. With each stride, it felt as if space itself bent to his will.
Yet, the human body has limits—an undeniable truth he soon discovered. A bolt of pain shot through his leg, muscles seizing as bones splintered.
He collapsed, face-first into the dirt, the world around him blurring.
Screaming in agony, he clawed at the earth, desperate to move. The invisible wave spread wider, flattening trees, boulders, and hills in its path.
He glanced back, dread pooling in his stomach. The storm was closer now, the thunderous sounds of destruction growing louder, each crack reverberating like a death knell.
Panic clawed at Tristan's mind. He had to escape. In a moment of desperation, he flipped into a handstand, using every ounce of strength to run on his hands, legs dangling helplessly behind him.
'Hehe, this king can't die like that.'
But after moving quite the distance his ingenuity faltered; his hands buckled beneath him, and ate a mouthfull of dirt, again.
"No! Not like this! I can't die here!" His heart raced, fear coursing through him. The cacophony of devastation drew nearer, a relentless predator closing in. He screamed again, his voice slicing through the forest, but who would hear him?
Meanwhile, not too far away, two otherworldly beings stood in stark contrast to the chaos.
Completely white humanoid creatures with smooth, featureless faces leaned toward one another, a soft, shimmering energy grounding them.
Their bodies were sleek—one male, streamlined with blue lines, and one female, voluptuous with flowing white hair. A ring of light hovered above them, illuminating their ethereal presence.
But Tristan's cries shattered the serene moment. The light flickered and dimmed as they exchanged glances, concern etched into their angular features. They turned, drawn towards the source of the terror.
Back on Earth, in a towering skyscraper, Marisa sat in a sleek lounge, her brows furrowed with worry. She glanced at her assistant, tension simmering in the air. "Are you sure he's going to help?" she asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
The assistant nodded, though her own expression was strained. "He said he was interested in this matter. He believes the person might be on that planet."
Marisa's heart raced at the thought. "How could he possibly know?"
The assistant shook her head. "He didn't explain—just said it was a feeling. That curiosity…"
On the 99th floor of the skyscraper, a man sat cross-legged in a dimly lit room, the shadows clinging to him like a second skin.
His presence warped the very air around him, creating an unsettling distortion that suggested immense power held in check.
He wore a simple black robe that seemed to absorb the light, making him appear almost as an extension of the darkness itself.
His face was partially obscured by the shadows, but his eyes glimmered with an otherworldly intensity—deep pools of darkness that hinted at untold knowledge and a formidable will.
He held a blade of pure dark energy in one hand, its edge shimmering as if forged from the void.
The weapon pulsed with a rhythm that mirrored his steady heartbeat, a silent testament to his control over its destructive potential.
The silence in the room was thick, laden with anticipation. It felt as though time itself had paused in his presence, every second stretching into eternity.
A knock on the door pierced the stillness.
"Let them in," he instructed, his voice smooth and resonant, carrying an authority that demanded attention.
As the door creaked open, the air shifted subtly, as if the room itself acknowledged his power, ready to bend to his will.
After Tristan's desperate cry, he breathed in heavily and exhaled a shaky breath. His mind, clouded with desperation.
Suddenly, a calming aura washed over the area, and the ever expanding storm slowed to a crawl.
Space distorted around him, throwing gravity into a chaotic disarray, but that soothing presence spread out, halting the impending disaster.
Cracks began to appear in the distortion. Not far away, the two otherworldly figures stood, observing intently. A wisp of primal chaos seeped through one of the cracks. With a slight tremble, the fissures exploded, opening a gaping hole in spacetime.
Chaotic mist pervaded the air, and Tristan felt a familiar aura—unmistakably the Dao Wheel. Wait, wasn't that realm an illusion how are you here? As if reading his thoughts, a gentle voice answered, "Yes and no."
That reality was false but still real, meaning it existed yet was an illusion. Tristan gasped, and exclaimed, "Then…"
"Yes, she was real but false, she would have faded away after you left."
From the void, the Dao wheel emerged, but instead of the usual two small fragments, there were eight, rotating around the chaos stone.
Tristan was astonished, but held his questions at bay.
A gentle glow enveloped him, and he felt his injuries heal, the pain dissipating like mist in the morning sun.
"Oh," the chaos stone exclaimed, "I didn't think I could start the engraving process."
Back on Earth, inside the tall skyscraper on the 99th floor, the door opened with a creak that echoed ominously.
Marisa and her assistant stepped in, their demeanor tense, as if the very air around them crackled with unease.
Their smiles were stiff like a piece of wood but despite them putting on their best acts an undercurrent of worry hung heavily in the space between them.
They sat down waiting the air thick with an unseen tension.
Abruptly the man in black stood up, his presence an unsettling force distorting the air.
His eyes locked onto Marisa, and with a slight movement, he appeared before her, causing her to jump In her seat.
His eyes were like two swirling abysses, completely dark, while Marisa's were bright and innocent, creating a stark contrast.
The man leaned in, but Marisa leaned back into her chair. It looked as if the two were about to have a passionate kiss.
He suddenly straightened his posture and walked back to his desk, his fingers drumming on the table with a rhythmic pattern.
The two females looked at each other bewildered. The man suddenly spoke, his voice soothing to the soul.
"I'll need your blood."
Hearing this, Marisa tensed, but the man spoke again, completely void of worry. "I'll only need a drop, so there's no need to worry."
The two let out a sigh of relief.
"Shall we proceed?" the man questioned. A woman walked out of the shadows, her curves eminent, her demeanor like a cat poised and ready to strike.
She moved toward Marisa with a needle and a small glass tray in hand.