The vast elven forest was now a graveyard of ash and ruin. In the winter of 40026, the sprawling magnificent elven empire, a symbol of beauty and power for centuries, stood on the brink of complete destruction. Infernal flames, fed by relentless explosions, had devoured the ancient forests, and colossal trees, some thousands of years old, had burned like matchsticks and collapsed. The death toll was beyond counting—elves buried under the wreckage of trees, warriors turned to ash in the blasts, and civilians who perished amid screams and terror. The stench of blood and burning was so thick in the air that breathing felt like torture. Black smoke shrouded the sky, and the sunlight was now lost in darkness.
Talandril, the elven king, clad in his dark green robe, now torn and bloodstained, walked through this hell. A deep wound on his arm bled profusely, and his face, once full of authority and calm, was now pale and shaken. A ringing echoed in his ears, like a bell tolling the end. He looked around—at the bodies of his kin scattered on the ground, at elven children lying lifeless in their mothers' arms, at soldiers staring at the sky with open, empty eyes. His heart clenched with pain. Everything he had fought for over the years—the floating cities, the enchanted forests, the empire that symbolized hope—had turned to ash in mere moments. Even with his astonishing power, the green magic and living roots that could move mountains, he had accomplished nothing. The feeling of helplessness stabbed his chest like a dagger.
In that moment, the only thing left in Talandril was rage—a burning fury that flared from the depths of his heart. His heartbeat quickened, and his leaf-green eyes, now gleaming with tears and anger, locked onto a single point: the Starman. He floated in the sky, like a meteor still burning. After his deadly beam collided with Adrina's fire, he was now slowly descending toward the ground, his black cloak rippling in the wind, his star-like gray eyes, which seemed to hold the end of the world, still searching for Rio.
Without a second thought, Talandril let out a primal scream and leaped onto a massive gomara. The beast roared savagely and charged forward, its horns glinting in the firelight. Talandril waved his hands, and massive black roots, like living snakes, erupted from the ground. Each thick, moss-covered root, glowing with radiant lichen, shot toward the Starman like deadly spears. The earth trembled beneath his feet, and the sound of the ground splitting was like the forest's wail.
The Starman focused on Rio, was momentarily startled by the black roots surging toward him like a storm—his eyebrows raised slightly, the only hint of emotion he had shown thus far. But the surprise lasted only a moment. With a swift, powerful motion, he plunged his hands into the roots, tearing them apart as if they were paper. Dodging with relentless precision, he moved like a shadow through the storm and landed on the ground. Dust swirled around him, and he stood unscathed.
Talandril, now charging toward him on the gomara, let out a cry filled with rage and despair. He had no plan—only the fury born from the destruction of his land, the death of his people, and his own powerlessness drove him forward. But the Starman, now glancing back at Talandril, clenched his fists. His face, cold and emotionless until that moment, now bore a shadow of anger, as if this interference was an insult. He stood like a rock unshaken by any storm.
The gomara reached him at full speed, and Talandril conjured a glowing green spear in his hands, raising it to strike. But the Starman, with a swift motion, pulled back his black fist and struck the gomara's skull with such force that the massive beast was flung into the air like a toy. The sound of its skull shattering echoed, and the gomara vanished into the smoke and fire with a gut-wrenching wail. Talandril, soaring above the Starman, spun in the air, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't fathom this power—it was impossible, unfair. Why would the world grant such a merciless being so much strength? These thoughts swirled in his mind like a storm, and his heart ached with pain and despair.
The Starman slowly raised his head. His eyes glowed orange again, a searing light as if from the heart of a dying star. Moments later, a deadly beam shot from his eyes. It struck Talandril with blinding speed, cleaving his body in two. Blood sprayed like a fountain, and Talandril's bisected body fell to the ground like a lifeless corpse. His dark green robe soaked in a pool of blood, and his leaf-green eyes, once brimming with rage and life, were now empty and fading. His final breath escaped like a cold sigh, and life slipped away from him.
In that moment, a voice echoed in Talandril's mind—a familiar voice, like a memory from a distant past. "Talandril? Talandril?" He saw himself in an old memory, standing before Rio Asteroid, a man with a blurred face and a playful smirk. Rio put his hands behind his head and said with an embarrassed laugh:
"What's wrong? I was just giving you a heads-up. Why'd you go quiet all of a sudden?"
Talandril, younger and more carefree in that memory, swallowed hard and said:
"What do you mean, if we meet again, I'll face my end?"
Rio, with that same grin, replied: "Just giving you a heads-up. If we ever meet again, hide and make sure you stay alive."
Talandril shook his head and asked: "But what do you mean by that, Rio?"
Suddenly, Rio's face turned serious, his smile vanishing, and with a voice that seemed to come from the future, he said:
"You'll see. One day, you'll see."
Moments later, Talandril's eyes dimmed in the real world, and the last image in his mind was Rio Asteroid's blurred face, like a warning he had never taken seriously. His lifeless body lay in the blood and ash, and a cold wind stirred his torn robe, like a memento for a king who was no more.
The Starman passed by Talandril's body without a glance. With an irritated expression and eyes that had returned to gray, he muttered softly:
"Fool."
His voice was deep and cold, like a bell tolling death. He resumed his steps, each one shaking the ground and spreading fear like an invisible wave. His power was absolute—neither William's fire, Elian's sword, Talandril's magic, nor even a king's rage could stop him. He was a force that seemed to have come from the stars to end everything.
In the distance, Rio, still in Elian's arms, looked back. He had seen the orange beam, and now smoke and ash filled the sky. His heart pounded with fear, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn't know Talandril was dead, but he felt something immense and irreversible had been lost. Nadia and Adrina, running beside Elian, had faces full of fear and exhaustion. The Starman, now pursuing them again, appeared on the horizon like a shadow of death, his eyes like two extinguished stars that shone only for Rio.