Chaos pressed forward, each heavy step echoing into the vast, white emptiness. Strangely, unnervingly, the oppressive forces of the mountain no longer touched him. The howling winds had silenced. The burning weight of the sun dimmed into a gentle, almost refreshing warmth. The snowflakes that could have ripped the flesh from bone melted away before they even neared his skin, vanishing like mist against his presence.

  Chaos noticed all of it. He was no fool. He understood that this was no trick of the environment, no lapse in the soul’s defense. This was control. Whoever had forged this place had chosen when and how the world around him would change, and the realization only made him more determined.

  The stairway ahead stretched endlessly still, cutting through the pale emptiness like a scar against the heavens. Chaos took a long breath, the molten embers of his form crackling faintly with each inhale. Then he moved.

  In a blink, the Titan of the Central Liberatorium surged forward, his body blurring into a streak of darkness against the white. He became motion incarnate, his monstrous frame passing thousands of steps in the span of a second, his speed tearing apart the silence, shattering the stillness. His chains dragged in the air behind him like screaming, invisible serpents.

  He raced upward, faster than sound, many times so. The stairway became a blur beneath his clawed feet, an endless ribbon of carved stone devoured by his hunger to find the core of this defiant soul. He did not know how long he moved like this, lost in pure speed, but at last, something appeared ahead, something different.

  Without slowing, Chaos hurtled toward it, and then halted so suddenly the stairs cracked under him.

  Before him stood a set of double doors.

  They were colossal, towering even over his monstrous height, crafted from gleaming white stone that shimmered faintly under the impossible light. They were simple yet flawless, unmarked by any inscription or carving, yet their presence radiated authority. However strange they were, they failed to stop Chaos, as he did not respect such symbols. With a snarl, he planted his foot firmly and hurled a kick against the doors with all his might.

  The doors exploded from their hinges, splintering outward with the force of a cannon blast, the debris evaporating into mist before it ever touched the endless stairs behind him. Chaos strode forward through the ruined threshold, ready to unleash his fury, ready to drag the soul he sought into agony.

  But what he saw beyond the doorway made him question this strange soul even more. Before him stretched an arena. A vast, ancient place carved from stone so old it seemed to hum with the weight of ages. Above him loomed endless rows of seating, tier upon tier of what should have been grandstands meant to hold thousands, but the seats were shrouded completely in a deep, writhing darkness. A darkness that was not his own.

  That realization struck him harder than any blade could have. He, a Titan of shadow, one of the masters of void and silence, could not penetrate it. The fact that something could weave darkness beyond even his reach, especially here, inside the Origin he thought he had complete dominion over, sent a tremor of confusion through his blackened blood. He knew, intellectually, that Kaiser should have been helpless within his grasp. There should have been nothing left of the human's will strong enough to resist him. And yet... here he stood, facing something utterly alien, something impossibly sovereign.

  Chaos took another slow step forward into the vast arena, his heavy, scorched boots grinding against the cold stone. The doorway behind him vanished soundlessly, like a ripple folding itself back into a calm ocean. Chaos turned his head slightly, noting its disappearance without fear or concern. Instead, curiosity burned hotter within him. It was like being led toward a feast promised but never fully revealed, a hunger clawing at his monstrous heart not just for battle, but for understanding.

  He advanced toward the center of the arena, and as he did, every torch lining the perimeter burst into flame, one after another, crackling with eerie, pale fire. The light revealed the emptiness above, rows of vacant seats staring down with unseen eyes, and the walls, etched with ancient, nameless runes that seemed to shift when looked at directly. Chaos’s grin widened unnaturally. It was not joy he felt, but something close—a twisted anticipation gnawing at the edge of his mind.

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  Across the arena, embedded into the far wall, he spotted it. A structure, both grotesque and magnificent, forged from what appeared to be gleaming iron and tarnished gold. A massive, sculpted hand, palm facing outward as if reaching to grasp some forgotten god, fingers curled in anguish or triumph. In the center of the palm, wrapped in thick iron bars, was a cage.

  The moment Chaos’s molten eyes locked onto it, the thick iron bars shrieked and twisted apart, the sound grinding against the walls. From within the prison, something stirred—a presence so heavy it seemed to pull the torches’ flames inward, dimming them in reverence or fear. And when Chaos saw it, a savage grin split his already scorched lips wider, exposing rows of jagged teeth gleaming hungrily in the flickering light.

  His massive clawed hands twitched at his sides, anticipation gnawing at him like a chained beast finally catching the scent of blood. From the remains of the iron prison, something ancient and magnificent emerged, something that bent the very air to its will by the mere act of existing. A colossal wolf, its towering form easily reaching five meters at the shoulder, stepped forth with a slow, deliberate grace that betrayed the monstrous power hidden beneath its velvet black coat.

  Its fur did not shimmer with the light of the torches—it devoured it. Every strand was a perfect abyss, a hunger of color so deep it seemed to bleed the light out of the world around it. From its massive, regal head burned a pair of molten eyes, twin rivers of orange magma that dripped down its muzzle, hissing when they kissed the ground and leaving tiny smoking craters in the stone.

  And then there was its mouth, hanging open in a breathless, quiet snarl, revealing rows upon rows of teeth—tiny, sharp, layered grotesquely atop one another like a maw forged purely for annihilation. It was the kind of sight that would have shattered the mind of any ordinary being, the kind of horror that would have left lesser warriors weeping in despair. But Chaos was no mere mortal. And instead of dread, his heart bloomed with ravenous excitement, the corners of his ruined mouth stretching even further into an unnatural grin.

  The arena, once a hollow dead space, now trembled with a thick, suffocating gravity. The stone beneath Chaos’s feet groaned under the new pressure, the very air congealing into a tangible force that tried to drag him downward. Yet he remained unmoved, his shoulders rolling back in savage pleasure at the force now arrayed before him.

  This was no hallucination. This was no trick. His flaming gaze remained locked on the black wolf with something that could almost be called reverence. His mind, fast as ever despite the rage boiling within it, raced to piece together the truth, and a dark laugh rumbled in his throat as realization struck him like a hammer.

  "I see it now," he said, voice low and reverent, almost admiring. "I should apologize for taking so long to remember you, beast. But you must forgive me... we have never met before." He lifted his clawed hand slowly, gesturing at the monstrosity now padding forward with lethal patience.

  "The son of Phobos," He said, voice dripping with awe and hunger alike, "The beast at the summit of the Volcano of Mariana. The one who ruled both flame and shadow... who silenced Liberators in the thousands."

  The black wolf, this soul made flesh, clawed the stone once, sending spiderweb cracks lancing out through the floor of the arena. It lowered its massive head, magma dripping more heavily from its burning eyes, steam hissing up in coils where the molten drops fell. Its entire frame was taut with barely restrained violence, every muscle rippling beneath that endless void of fur, ready to hurl itself forward with the force of a collapsing mountain.

  Chaos, for the first time in a hundred years felt that sharp needle-prick of true battlelust singing through his veins. He grinned wide and feral, teeth flashing like a dying sun. "It makes sense," he said, almost chuckling, his voice a rough and broken hymn to violence. "It makes all the sense in the world." He rolled his neck, the crack of ancient bones popping like distant thunder through the arena. "But I had no idea you had died, little beast," he whispered as if savoring a fine wine. "And even less idea you would be reborn... to become mine."

  The wolf did not answer, did not growl, did not speak, for it had no need. Its every motion, its every breath, every glint of molten light spilling from its soul was a promise of devastation. And as it began its first deliberate step forward, the arena floor trembled beneath its weight, each movement announcing that it did not intend to survive this encounter. It intended to end it.

  Chaos bared his teeth, his whole monstrous form thrumming with anticipation, every muscle tight and ready. This was no longer a battle for dominance. It was a feast promised long ago in blood and ruin, and Chaos, greedy and ravenous, intended to devour the legend whole.

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  Also don't forget to check out the endings of the first 10 chapters! If you've missed it, I put some pics there, and the second batch for chapters 11-20 is dropping tomorrow!