Ancestral Lineage

The moment Ethan vanished into the golden portal, the tension in the air loosened, and the group collectively exhaled.

"I still can't seem to withstand the pressure the Psyche-Eye radiates," Galeno muttered, his expression as detached and lazy as ever despite the lingering tremor in the air.

"What was that?" Saareiya gasped, eyes wide. "It felt like I was being crushed from the inside out."

"Be grateful you weren't its target," Onyx said, taking her hand gently. "That's big sister's gift to Master—a bond they share. And yes… It's as dangerous as it feels. We'll get to experience it up close soon enough."

With that, she pulled Saareiya upward, the two beginning to float.

"I want to feel it directly," Maverick said, his grin widening.

"Same here," Stygian echoed, eyes glinting with unhinged excitement.

"You two are insane," Sage's voice crackled from overhead. "I still don't get how you were born of different races."

"Piss off, radio," Maverick and Stygian snapped in unison.

"Tch. Whatever. I've got eyes on incoming hostiles. They've already noticed us," Sage continued, irritation clear. "I'll handle the aerial units."

"I'll retrieve her mother," Onyx said casually, hair rippling as she scanned the horizon. "Let's go, Sary."

"I'll take the left flank," Maverick said, his wings manifesting behind him.

"Then I'll handle the right," Stygian added, claws flexing, his purple-flamed hair burning brighter.

"What about Big Brother?" Saareiya asked, glancing back at Galeno.

"I'll stay here," Galeno replied with a bored smile. "There's one other besides the Queen who might get in Master's way. I'll deal with him."

"Will you deal with him, or just try to?" Onyx said, her eye twitching in exasperation.

"…"

"Figures. Come on, Sary. He's got it handled. Probably."

"Are you sure?" Saareiya asked uncertainly.

"Yup! He's as strong and stubborn as a mountain."

"Okay!" Saareiya said, her face brightening as the two flew off, rising into the sky.

"See you on the other side, stone bird," Stygian growled with a manic grin before rocketing eastward, leaving behind a trail of purple fire and a thick scent of death.

"The one with the most kills duels Master," Maverick declared, laughing wildly as he surged westward, his aura flaring with destructive energy.

Galeno stood alone now, the wind stirring his clothes as the battlefield began to awaken.

"Hehe… you can come out now, Jeroth," he said, his deep voice reverberating with subtle amusement. "I know you're there."

The clearing fell silent for a breath—then the shadows stirred.

...

The golden light of Ethan's portal dimmed the moment he stepped through, swallowed by a silence so absolute it felt like sound had been erased from existence.

He emerged into a grand chamber carved into the living stone of the Obsidian Groves—a sanctum not built by hand but shaped by thought. Every surface shimmered faintly, a mesh of psychic residue and geometric patterns etched directly into the air. Pillars pulsed with veins of violet light, humming with power too ancient to comprehend. Gravity itself felt... negotiable.

Ethan landed gently, eyes narrowing.

Ahead, rising above a flight of levitating obsidian steps, was the Throne of the Mind-Crucible, suspended in psychic stasis. Upon it sat Queen Ashtora.

She was regal terror made flesh.

Unlike the others of her race, her skin shimmered with a sheen of obsidian-black beneath the crimson hue, as though layered with shadow. Ten psychic spikes protruded from her long, coiling tail—each one glowing with mindfire, gently drifting behind her like predatory fins. Her four eyes glowed a cold, glacial blue that pierced through dimensions of thought. The horns upon her head curled outward like a crown of fractured reality, twitching occasionally in rhythm with the psychic pulse of the chamber.

Her voice echoed inside Ethan's skull before her lips even parted.

"You dare enter my Sanctum of Will uninvited, Anomaly?"

Ethan stepped forward, the air thickening with every move. His third eye opened fully, spinning slowly with a sapphire gleam.

"I'm not here for permission," Ethan said aloud, though his voice sounded distant—muted, as if the world itself refused to acknowledge sound. "I'm here to end this."

From either side of the throne, two E'Sheril guards emerged—tall, monstrous beings nearly as tall as Sage. Their crimson skin rippled with tension, and their four eyes locked onto Ethan with alien focus. Each had four muscular arms—fists clenched, claws twitching with anticipation. Their tails coiled and uncoiled like sentient whips, spikes gleaming.

One was male—spikes jutting savagely from his elbows.

The other, a female—her shoulder-borne spikes curled upward like regal thorns.

They did not speak. They didn't need to.

The pressure in the room surged.

Ashtora stood, her movements ethereal yet calculated, graceful as the thought of a blade. When she descended the first step, the entire sanctum responded—pulsing as if it were her heartbeat.

"I felt it the moment you opened that portal," she whispered directly into his mind. "You carry a stain. A foreign Will. It reeks of her."

Ethan's grin was calm—but beneath it, the full weight of his presence returned. His energy stirred, the strands of his hair floating upward. The Psyche-Eye on his forehead spun once, slowly, before locking on Ashtora with a flicker of recognition.

"She said hello, by the way," he responded casually, power rumbling from his core.

The air snapped.

Reality warped.

Ashtora's aura bled into the space around them, contorting the very concept of space. Time shuddered. The guards held their ground, but trembled slightly—as if bracing for what they knew was beyond them.

"So be it," Ashtora said, raising one hand and twisting the air. "Let your mind shatter like the rest."

Ethan's aura flared, meeting hers in midair. The psychic collision sent invisible shockwaves through the throne chamber, cracking walls of pure thought, shivering pillars of silence.

A battle of Will had begun.

Not just strength.Not just magic.But dominance of thought.

And in this sacred domain of the mind, Ethan stood alone before the Queen of the E'Sherils.

The chamber vibrated not with sound, but intention. Ethan and Queen Ashtora stood facing one another in the center of a silent storm of clashing auras—psychic tendrils and spiritual gravity colliding like titans unseen.

This was no clash of fists.No exchange of spells.This was dominion.

A battle of Wills.

And neither flinched.

Ethan's Psyche-Eye spun in measured pulses, reading layers of Ashtora's presence—her mental shields, her echoes, her anchor points. She was... elegant. Terrifying. Ancient.

Yet Ethan stood tall, hair rising like solar flame, his alchemic tattoos glowing in soft, coordinated harmony with the serpentine eye on his forehead. He wasn't just resisting her influence—he was pushing back.

Then, the spell broke.

The two E'Sheril guards moved.

In tandem, the crimson-skinned titans launched forward, faster than most eyes could track. Their four arms twisted in psychic combat forms, claws extended and tails whipping behind them, spikes aimed for blood.

The male dove low, fists wreathed in spiraling psychic energy, targeting Ethan's legs.The female flanked, two fists high, two low—telekinetically warping space around her as she aimed for his head and chest.

But Ethan did not move.

He simply looked at them.

His Psyche-Eye flared.

Bright. Blue. Absolute.

For a fraction of a second—eternity condensed—they entered Ethan's mindscape. Not willingly.

There, they stood in a sea of golden threads—memories, thoughts, concepts, fears—all unraveling before the eye of a god. The two warriors froze, caught mid-step. They tried to scream. To resist. To fight back.

But their Will... cracked.

Shattered.

And reality followed suit.

In the physical world, their bodies jerked, halted mid-air like puppets with cut strings. Then—

CRACK!

Their tails spasmed violently. Their limbs twisted in unnatural directions. Their spines arched backward—bones fracturing as if crushed under the weight of their own resistance. Psychic energy imploded inside them, their thoughts caving inward.

They never touched Ethan.

They never even got close.

Their bodies dropped in twin thuds, twitching, steaming, eyes wide open and empty—like glass windows to shattered souls.

Ethan exhaled. Calm. Controlled.

"Still using pawns?" he asked Ashtora. "I expected more."

Ashtora's face remained stoic, yet a flicker passed through one of her eyes—a micro-glint of acknowledgment. Or perhaps... interest.

"Curious," she whispered directly into his psyche. "So you really are her inheritor. I smell the echo of the First Queen in your mind. That arrogance. That clarity."

Ethan took a slow step forward, each movement warping the throne chamber around him. His very will pressed into the architecture—making the air dense, the stone tremble, and the psychic residue flicker.

"You said I reek of her," Ethan said with a faint smile. "Good. Then you already know this is where your reign ends. And, I don't know of any first Queen or whoever that is."

Ashtora's ten tail spikes pulsed.

Each one thrummed with pure psychic pressure—manifesting as threads of violet flame that coiled around her body like serpents. Her four arms extended slowly as she began to rise above the steps once more.

Then came the Voice.

All minds present heard it.

"Kneel."

Not a suggestion.Not a threat.A command issued to reality itself.

Stone cracked beneath Ethan's feet. Invisible hands pressed down on his shoulders. The world screamed for him to obey.

But Ethan's Psyche-Eye burned brighter—fiercer.

And he whispered,

"No."

A second shockwave erupted.

The golden and violet auras collided again, this time with true violence. The throne chamber buckled. Thought and matter fractured.

This was no longer just a battle of Will.

This was war between titans.