Thomas kept running, his breath ragged as he pushed himself forward. The ground beneath his feet trembled with every step, but it wasn't his feet causing the chaos. It was his uncontrollable, destructive power—that was wreaking havoc around him. As he ran, blasts of energy erupted from his body, tearing through trees, rocks, and everything in his path. Explosions rang out, the air thick with dust and the smell of burning debris.
Each step felt heavier, each blast harder to control. It was as if something inside him—a demon—was pushing him forward, forcing him to destroy everything around him. The emotions—rage, guilt, confusion—swirled inside him, but there was one thought that rang clear above everything else:
"I'm a monster. Just like they said."
He didn't even try to stop it anymore. The outbursts came faster, more violent, tearing apart the world around him. The neighbors, his parents, schoolmates—they were right. All the harsh words, the looks of fear, the whispers about his strange behavior—it was true. He was dangerous. He was a monster, no better than the demons they all feared.
The words stung, each one like a fresh wound. His anger flared, and with it, his power grew. The destruction was unstoppable.
Thomas wasn't running from them anymore. He was running from himself.
A strange, unnerving sensation crawled up his spine. He could feel something—or someone—following him. Something that made him feel even more trapped. It wasn't just his fear anymore; it was as if his own anger had taken control. He couldn't stop. He couldn't think straight. All he wanted was to lash out, to hurt anyone who dared to cross him.
With a burst of fury, Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. His heart raced, his thoughts spiraling. He spun around, his fists clenched, ready to unleash the storm within him. There, standing at the edge of the dense forest, was Tavrik.
The golden-haired young man didn't move. He just stood there, watching, his icy blue eyes cold as ever. His expression was unreadable, detached. It only made Thomas's anger boil even more. Why was he here? What did he want now? What was his connection to all this madness?
Without thinking, Thomas didn't hold back. He charged forward, fists glowing with energy, aimed directly at Tavrik.
The blast erupted from his hands, and Tavrik barely had time to react. The shockwave sent him flying backward, his feet skidding several meters before he steadied himself, a small crack forming on the ground beneath him.
He didn't attack. He didn't even move to retaliate. Instead, he watched Thomas carefully, his expression still as cold and indifferent as it had been before.
Thomas's mind was clouded with anger. He didn't care about anything anymore. He wasn't thinking clearly—he was raging. With a roar, he charged again, his body moving with a ferocity that matched his emotions.
The clash of their powers was like an explosion, rocks splintering, trees falling as the air buzzed with electric tension. Tavrik easily dodged every attack, his movements swift and controlled. It was clear that he had far more experience than Thomas.
Thomas tried again and again, but every time he struck, Tavrik simply bent, spun, or blocked. Each failed attempt only added to Thomas's fury, and with each failed blow, the energy inside him grew.
The fight became a blur of motion. Thomas was driven by rage, but Tavrik remained calm and collected, constantly on the defensive. He wasn't trying to win—he was simply neutralizing Thomas's attacks. Every time Thomas tried to launch a powerful strike, Tavrik would dodge or deflect it, his body moving with unnatural fluidity.
After several rounds, Tavrik finally closed the distance. In one swift, practiced movement, he dodged Thomas's outstretched arm, then, using the momentum, swept his legs out from under him. Thomas went crashing to the ground, his body hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.
For a moment, Thomas lay there, his mind spinning as his vision blurred. The world felt distant, his power fading. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. He was completely vulnerable now.
Tavrik stood above him, his cold blue eyes staring down at him. No words. Just silence.
Then, a sharp voice cut through the stillness.
"Stay away from him!"
It was a command, one that Thomas hadn't heard before. Tavrik's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered briefly, and without hesitation, he leapt backward, narrowly avoiding an attack that came from behind.
Thomas, still dazed, turned his head, and there, standing a few paces away, was Darian—the one who had called himself his guardian.
Darian's features were tense, his eyes flashing with danger. His body was poised, ready to strike, but he didn't move. His voice was calm, but the authority in it was unmistakable.
"Tavrik," Darian said coolly, "Stay away from him. He's not your enemy."
Tavrik gave a cold, dismissive glance at Darian, then, without a word, leapt into the air, disappearing into the distance with a speed that left no time for further conversation.
Thomas, still lying on the ground, was left stunned and confused. Who were these people? What did they want with him? Why had Tavrik fought him like that, and why had Darian intervened?
In the aftermath of the fight, all Thomas could do was lie there, breathless and disoriented. His anger had burned through him, but now there was just a cold emptiness.
Slowly, his eyes blurred and his consciousness left him.
When Thomas regained consciousness, the first thing that struck him was the blinding light. His eyes stung as the brightness filtered through the cracks in the cave entrance. Slowly, he blinked, trying to focus, his mind still groggy from the aftermath of the fight. What had happened? His body felt sore and his head ached, but there was no time to linger in confusion. He had to figure out what was going on.
The air around him smelled damp and earthy, and his heartbeat was still racing. He scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of everything. The cave walls were jagged and rough, casting eerie shadows around the small space.
Then, his eyes fell on a figure standing nearby.
A man, dressed casually in simple clothes, stood in front of him. His hair was tousled, his posture relaxed—but there was something about his presence that sent a jolt of recognition through Thomas's chest.
Darian.
It was him, but not the way Thomas had seen him before. This man—his so-called guardian—was not in his usual attire. No armor. No strange, warrior-like costume. Instead, he was dressed in a loose shirt and pants, a far cry from the authoritative figure Thomas had come to expect.
Thomas's heart skipped a beat. Was he dreaming? He couldn't trust his senses right now, but the urgency in his chest was undeniable. The fight with Tavrik, the anger, the outbursts of power, they had all felt so real. He had to know what was going on.
Quickly, Thomas shot up from the ground, his muscles stiff from the tension that had built in the aftermath of his explosion of power. He reached for a stone lying beside him, gripping it tightly in his hand as if ready to strike. His instincts had been sharpened by years of being pushed to the edge.
"Who are you?" Thomas asked, his voice hoarse but firm, his eyes narrowing on the man before him. His body was on alert, and his mind raced.
The man didn't flinch or make any sudden movements. He simply stared back at Thomas, his gaze unreadable.
"Easy there," Darian said, his voice calm, but with an edge that hinted at a deeper understanding. "It's me, Darian. Your guardian."
Thomas's brow furrowed. "Guardian?" he repeated, still not convinced. He studied the man's face carefully this time, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind was clouded with doubt. It was the same face, the same features—Darian had always been stoic, strong, and authoritative in his usual outfit. But now, in casual clothes, he felt... different.
"Why are you dressed like this?" Thomas asked, his grip tightening on the stone. "And what happened after the fight with that golden-haired guy?"
Darian sighed, his eyes softening as he took a small step forward. "You don't have to worry about that. You're safe now. We're far from the town. I brought you here to keep you hidden."
Thomas took a step back, shaking his head. "No. No, I need answers. I don't understand any of this. Why was I fighting him? Why do I have these powers? Why did I lose control like that?"
Darian's expression darkened slightly, but his voice remained steady. "That young man you fought yesterday, the one with the golden hair… His name is Tavrik. He's the prince of Xyrathis."
Thomas's eyes widened. "Xyrathis?" The name sounded familiar, but he didn't have time to process all the details. His mind was still clouded by the chaos of the fight.
"Yes," Darian continued, his tone measured. "Xyrathis is a planet near Veyloria. He was sent here by his father to observe you, to learn more about you. Tavrik is... more powerful than you realize. He has his own agenda, and you should stay away from him."
Thomas didn't know what to think. The world felt like it was spinning around him, every new piece of information pulling him in a new direction. His hands were still shaking slightly, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else. Confusion. Fear. And that growing sense of being pulled into something bigger than himself.
"He's dangerous," Darian added, his eyes narrowing. "You don't know him like I do. Tavrik has a mission, and you could be part of that mission—whether you want to be or not. But you don't have the full picture yet. I need you to trust me, Thomas. Stay away from him. He might seem like someone you can trust, but he's not."
Thomas took a step back, trying to process all the words coming at him. His mind swirled with doubt, but something in Darian's voice made him pause. Why should he trust Tavrik? He didn't know who he was anymore. Tavrik had fought him, almost as if they were enemies.
But why would he save Thomas from falling off the cliff? Why had he caught him?
The confusion weighed on Thomas's mind, the answers he craved just out of reach.
"I can't…" Thomas muttered, staring at the ground. "I don't know who to trust anymore." His voice was barely a whisper. "All I've ever known is what people told me. I'm just a monster to them. I can't control this... power..."
Darian studied him silently for a moment. Then, with a slight nod, he stepped closer, his eyes softening just a little.
"You don't have to do this alone," Darian said quietly. "You were born for something far greater than you realize. But you need to focus. You need to learn to control your power, and you need to do that before someone like Tavrik gets too close."
Thomas nodded, but the weight of the words pressed on him.
Darian placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "I know you're confused. But I'll help you. We'll figure this out together."
Thomas hesitated for a moment before looking up at Darian. "And Tavrik?"
Darian's expression hardened again. "Stay away from him. He's not your ally. Not yet. And maybe never."