The walls were covered in glowing, ethereal drawings—bunnies, panda bears, and other soft, innocent creatures, their luminescence casting an eerie yet mesmerizing glow around the hidden chamber.

  His gaze drifted lower, where millions of tally marks stretched across the walls, meticulously etched into the metal. His stomach twisted as realization set in.

  These weren’t just random carvings.

  They represented years.

  “Who drew these?” Rue murmured, tightening her grip on Mel’s arm.

  Mel furrowed his brows, his silver eyes straining to adjust to the darkness. “I’m trying to activate my black lightning and cloud magic, but it’s taking longer than usual… Something about this place feels off.” He clenched his fists, trying to summon his power, but the shadows remained undisturbed. “There could be someone else down here.”

  Rue glanced around before grabbing a nearby stick. “Give me your shirt,” she whispered.

  Mel hesitated but ultimately pulled his shirt over his head, handing it to her. “Why?”

  Instead of answering, Rue tied the fabric around the stick and exhaled a steady stream of green fire from her mouth, setting the cloth ablaze. A soft, eerie glow flickered against the cavern walls.

  Mel quickly covered himself with his arms, his face heating up. “I could’ve just made a fire with sticks and stones, you know!” he hissed in a whisper.

  Rue smirked slightly, but her attention remained fixed on the illuminated drawings and the endless tally marks. She lifted the makeshift torch higher and stepped forward, scanning the eerie chamber. “Let’s see what else is down here.”

  As they pressed forward, the air grew heavier, the cave walls narrowing before opening into a vast chamber. At its center stood the Magisterium alongside Titian, all of them staring up in eerie silence.

  Mel followed their gaze—and his breath hitched. A towering, fifty-foot throne loomed above them, ancient and foreboding, carved with symbols that pulsed faintly in the dim light.

  Before he could process the sight, a blur of silver magic flickered in front of him. Silver Cross warped to his side, seizing Mel by the collar.

  “Where is he, boy?!” Silver snarled, pressing the tip of his wand against Mel’s throat.

  Mel’s eyes narrowed. In a flash, he twisted, flipping Silver over his shoulder and driving him headfirst into the stone floor with a sickening crack. The mage went limp.

  Mel exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve been dying to meet you all properly. Didn’t know Titian was part of the Magisterium.” His gaze flickered over the group. “I have questions for you.”

  The remaining members instantly raised their wands, magical energy crackling in the air. Mel tensed, shifting into a defensive stance.

  But then, Titian stepped forward, his expression grave, his hands shaking.

  “Melanthius… He’s missing.”

  Mel’s stance wavered. His brows furrowed. “What?”

  Before Titian could elaborate, a deep, guttural rumble echoed through the chamber. A massive hand, pale and clawed, slid across the armrest of the colossal throne.

  A shadow stirred.

  And then, he emerged.

  A giant figure, fifty feet tall, unfolded from the darkness, his form both regal and monstrous. His piercing gaze locked onto Mel, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

  “Hello, elder brother.”

  The weight of those words sent an icy shiver down Mel’s spine. The sheer presence of the figure made his stomach churn, his instincts screaming at him to run.

  “W-who are you?!” he demanded, his voice edged with both confusion and defiance.

  The giant ignored him, his burning gaze sweeping over the Magisterium instead.

  “You all knew I was here,” he seethed, his voice carrying a sharp, almost betrayed edge. “Yet none of you freed me. None of you even tried to break my seal.”

  The air grew suffocating. A crushing force bore down on Mel, so immense that his nose began to bleed. His vision blurred for a second, but he refused to look away.

  Through gritted teeth, he forced his head up.

  “I said—who are you?!”

  The giant’s patience snapped.

  “I’M VARZIEL,” he roared, his voice shaking the cavern, the very earth trembling beneath them. “THE SON OF NYXION! THE ELDER BORN OF THE ABYSS! AND I’VE BEEN LOCKED AWAY HERE FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS!”

  A violent gust of energy surged through the chamber, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the walls. Dust and stone rained from the ceiling.

  Mel clenched his fists, his body screaming under the pressure.

  This wasn’t just another enemy.

  This was something else.

  Mel instinctively shielded Rue as chunks of stone rained down around them, his arms tightening protectively. But before he could react further, Varziel flicked his wrist.

  Glowing black chains shot from the air, wrapping around Rue and the Magisterium, yanking them against the cavern walls. Rue struggled, her eyes blazing with fury, but the chains held firm.

  “This is a matter between family,” Varziel said smoothly, stepping fully into the light.

  For the first time, Mel got a clear look at him.

  Varziel was draped in pristine white, his black hair cascading down his back like ink against snow. His face—regal, sharp, and almost ethereal—held a haunting beauty, neither fully masculine nor feminine, but something in between, something otherworldly.

  Mel stepped forward, his expression darkening.

  “Family?” His voice was low, dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about? My father only had one son. Yaga told me that.”

  Varziel chuckled, wagging a long, elegant finger. “Oh, Melanthius… I never said I was Merlin’s son.” His pale lips curled into a knowing smile. “I said I was Nyxion’s.”

  Mel’s heart pounded in his chest.

  His hands clenched at his sides.

  “What… are you saying?” he growled.

  “I’m saying,” Varziel drawled, lounging back with a lazy smirk, “that our mother was a slut who flaunted herself like she was some damn elf or something.”

  Mel’s jaw tightened, his hands trembling at his sides. “Our mother?! You know her?!”

  Varziel exhaled, resting his chin on his knuckles. “Oh, I know her all right. And trust me, there’s probably a thousand more of us running around thanks to that woman.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “But you, dear brother, are the oldest.”

  Mel staggered back a step, shock hitting him like a punch to the gut. “That’s—That’s impossible! You look way older than me!”

  Varziel’s smirk vanished. His hand shot out, slamming into the cavern wall with a thunderous crack. From the impact, shards of diamonds rained down around them, glimmering like frozen stars.

  “These,” Varziel said, running his fingers through the fallen gems, “represent us.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He plucked a particularly large one from the pile and held it up, the diamond reflecting the eerie glow of the cave. “This one is mine.”

  Then, with a wicked grin, he reached down and pulled out another—an even larger diamond, towering over Mel himself. He turned it in his palm, letting its surface catch the dim light.

  “And this one?” Varziel mused, tossing it to Mel like it was nothing.

  “This one belongs to you.”

  Mel cradled the diamond in both hands, his breath hitching as he traced his fingers over the engraved name—his name. His pulse pounded in his ears as he looked up at Varziel.

  “W-what am I supposed to do with this information?!” he demanded, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief.

  Varziel finally rose from his throne, the sheer weight of his presence making the cave tremble. “You have to free me,” he said simply.

  Mel’s eyes widened. “You’re trapped?”

  “Don’t do it, boy!” Gail’s voice rang out in warning. “He’s down here because he tried to kill your mother!”

  Mel turned to her, his mind spiraling. “H-huh?” The sheer flood of revelations left him reeling, his thoughts tangled like a storm inside his head.

  Varziel sighed and held up a hand, conjuring a cluster of black orbs that pulsed with malevolent energy. “Enough of that. This is a conversation between brothers.” His tone was dismissive, cold, and before Mel could react, he launched the orbs toward Rue and the Magisterium.

  In an instant, Mel moved on instinct. Purple smoke and black lightning tendrils enveloped his form as he darted in front of them, unsheathing a sword with five jagged blades protruding from the sides. With a swift slash, he cleaved through the orbs, dispersing them into wisps of dark energy. His violet gaze locked onto Varziel with a burning intensity.

  Varziel rolled his shoulders, the cracks echoing through the cavern. “So, you do have some strength.”

  Mel didn’t respond. Instead, he raised a hand and created a dense cloud barrier around Rue and the Magisterium, ensuring their safety before turning back to face his so-called brother.

  Without hesitation, Mel propelled himself forward, hurling a concentrated sphere of cloud energy at Varziel. The massive figure sidestepped, his movements unnaturally smooth, and countered with a brutal punch.

  Mel reacted instantly, twisting his body midair and launching a kick that clashed against Varziel’s fist, sending a shockwave rippling through the cave. The force of the impact pushed them both back, but neither wavered.

  They stood there for a moment, staring each other down. One, a god-born entity chained by his past. The other, a mortal prodigy carrying the weight of his lineage.

  Flashback

  Long ago, before his conquests began, Merlin Shadowbane stood in what was now an unmarked land, long before the camp was built upon it. His presence alone seemed to warp the air around him, as if reality itself struggled to hold him.

  Before him, Titian extended his arms, conjuring an immense titanium fortress over the abyss below. The structure groaned as it settled into place, a monolith of imprisonment and secrecy. Titian lowered his head in deference.

  "My king, are you sure this will hold him?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

  Merlin stepped forward, raising both hands. Otherworldly symbols flickered around his fingertips before spiraling out, weaving themselves into the metal like ethereal chains. The fortress pulsed for a moment, then became unnaturally still.

  "Now it will," Merlin affirmed. His gaze lingered on the enchanted fortress, but there was something deeper in his expression—fear, perhaps, or the weight of a truth too heavy to bear. "I can't risk him getting out. I can't risk anyone doing anything to my son."

  Titian clenched his jaw and crouched low, his posture cautious. "That story you told me... you're really going through with this?" He hesitated. "You know there's no going back."

  Merlin turned toward him, the dim light catching on the silver embroidery of his long, dark coat. His belt, adorned with strange trinkets, jingled slightly as he moved. Among them, a keychain of worn guitar picks swayed, an artifact from another life—one he had abandoned long ago.

  His violet eyes lifted to the sky, filled with an unspoken resolve.

  "I'm sure."

  Present

  Mel gritted his teeth as Varziel backhanded him into the ground, the impact cracking the stone beneath him. A sharp pain shot through his ribs, but he forced himself up, his breathing ragged.

  Summoning his magic, Mel thrust his hand forward, creating a dense storm cloud that burst outward, shrouding the battlefield in thick mist. Thunder rumbled within the vapor, arcs of electricity crackling unpredictably through the air.

  Varziel didn’t hesitate. He dashed through the storm, his massive frame cutting through the mist with unnatural ease. Mel barely had time to react before a knee slammed into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. He skidded backward, but as he tumbled, he reached out, weaving a Storm Web—a net of electrified storm threads that lashed out at Varziel like grasping tendrils.

  The threads struck, wrapping around Varziel’s limbs, crackling with deadly voltage. The momentary restraint gave Mel a chance to surge forward. He spun low, summoning jagged shards of condensed cloud energy around his fists, aiming a vicious uppercut at Varziel’s jaw.

  The blow connected.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Varziel barely flinched. His head tilted slightly from the force, but his grin remained. With a sudden burst of power, he flexed his limbs, shattering the Storm Web like fragile glass. The backlash sent Mel flying, his body flipping through the air before crashing into the cave wall.

  Dazed, Mel’s vision blurred, but he refused to let his body shut down. He clenched his fists, sparks of storm magic flickering around his fingertips as he struggled to rise.

  Before he could fully stand, Varziel appeared before him in an instant. A brutal heel stomp slammed down onto Mel’s chest, pinning him to the ground. Mel gasped, his vision darkening at the edges as the pressure nearly crushed his ribs.

  Above him, Varziel loomed like an unshakable mountain, victorious.

  Mel crashed against the cave wall, his body falling limp as his purple smoke form dissipated. He slumped down, gasping for breath, the weight of the battle pressing heavily on his shoulders.

  Nearby, Titian struggled against his chains, his face twisted in frustration. “Melanthius… I know we’re kind of enemies, but listen. Your father told me to guard this place a long time ago. He told me everything.” His voice was tight, almost reluctant. “I was… one of his students.”

  Mel’s breath hitched. His exhausted eyes snapped open, staring at Titian in disbelief. “W-what?”

  Titian gave a weak nod. “I can’t explain it all now. But get us out of here, and I’ll give you hints.”

  Mel’s fingers dug into the dirt as he forced himself upright, his legs trembling. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. “If you’re telling me this… then I should give you something too.” He exhaled sharply before meeting Titian’s gaze. “Donatello is still alive.”

  “WHAT?! MELANTHIUS, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” Titian’s roar echoed through the cavern, his struggle intensifying. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, his mind spinning.

  Rue thrashed against her own chains, her eyes wide with urgency. “Mel! You can’t beat him! You need to get us out of here!”

  But Mel smirked, cracking his knuckles as he turned back to Varziel. “When have I ever run from a fight?” His voice was steady, despite the exhaustion creeping through his bones. Then his smirk widened. “In fact, when have I ever lost a fight?”

  A low, crackling hum filled the air. Black lightning flickered around Mel’s form, erratic at first, then growing, twisting, expanding. He had never done this before—never even felt this power before—but desperation had a way of unlocking hidden strength.

  The lightning erupted, shaping into a towering figure—a colossal, shadowy form, mirroring Varziel’s own immense stature. It wasn’t solid; it crackled and shifted, its body woven from violent storm clouds and veins of black lightning. Within its chest, Mel hovered at its core, his eyes burning with fierce determination.

  The massive entity raised an arm, its jagged fingers flexing like a titan testing its strength. Thunder rumbled deep within its frame, and arcs of lightning shot through the cavern, illuminating the stunned faces of Rue and the Magisterium.

  Varziel grinned, unfazed.

  Mel exhaled. The battle was far from over.

  Mel hovered within the towering form of Tempest Warden, his voice reverberating like a storm's echo. “I think I’ll call this… Tempest Warden.” His tone carried an eerie duality, as if another presence spoke alongside him.

  Varziel flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking like splintering stone. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he said smoothly. “Just undo your father’s spell and let me go.”

  Before he could say another word, Tempest Warden struck—a cloud-concealed, lightning-laced fist crashed into Varziel’s jaw, snapping his head back. The divine being paused, rubbing his chin with amusement. “That actually hurt,” he mused, his voice effortlessly elegant.

  Mel wasted no time, launching a crackling bolt of black lightning straight for his opponent’s face. But Varziel merely raised a hand, conjuring a swirling void that swallowed the attack into nothingness.

  “What?!” Mel's eyes widened, momentarily thrown off. That moment was all Varziel needed—chains of abyssal energy coiled around Tempest Warden’s neck, yanking the colossal form downward with crushing force. The ground split beneath them from the impact.

  Varziel raised a foot to stomp down, but Mel rolled aside at the last second, his body flickering with residual lightning as he regained his footing. The battle had only just begun.

  Mel staggered to his feet, his breaths ragged as he steadied himself. The Tempest Warden's black lightning crackled around him, its towering form flickering like a storm barely contained.

  Across from him, Varziel stared at the manifestation of Mel’s power, his expression briefly unreadable. Then, his lips curled slightly—whether in irritation or intrigue, Mel couldn’t tell.

  Without hesitation, Varziel raised a hand, his fingers twisting through the air as a surge of void energy coiled in his palm. The formless mass pulsed ominously before he unleashed it in a single, devastating wave.

  Mel braced himself, throwing up a shield of storm-charged clouds—but the void passed through effortlessly, as if ignoring his very existence. A sudden, overwhelming force gripped his mind, and his vision blurred.

  Then, everything shifted.

  Memories—Varziel’s memories—flooded into Mel like a rushing tide, pulling him into the past against his will.

  Flashback

  A young Varziel stood amidst the swirling clouds, his small form dwarfed by the storm raging around him. Before him, his father, Nyxion, loomed tall, locked in a heated argument with a towering figure wreathed in black lightning. Their voices clashed like thunder, the tension crackling in the air.

  Suddenly, Nyxion turned away in fury, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he seized Varziel by the arm, pulling him away from the confrontation.

  —

  Years later, Varziel stood face to face with a woman who towered over him, her presence as distant as the clouds above. She turned her back on him, walking away without hesitation. The rejection burned in his chest.

  Fueled by anger, Varziel lunged—but before his strike could land, the black lightning figure reappeared. In an instant, it subdued him, its overwhelming power swallowing him whole. The world around him shattered like glass, and before he could react, darkness consumed him.

  When he awoke, he was no longer free. He was trapped—deep beneath the earth, sealed within an underground prison.