Beyond the collapsing hall, the sight could not be contained. From the capital, the towering, fifty ter Gigante rose into view, her colossal form tearing through the palace structure. The blank night sky itself seed to beca even more dark as her massive fra just block the full moon.
The sleeping city awakened in terror. Citizens rushed into the streets, eyes wide as they beheld the monstrous silhouette looming over the palace.
"War... is it war again!?"
"Wha— what is that!?"
"Is that... the Gigante!? But they said their kind were in the skies! Why are they here!?"
Panic rippled through the crowd. Mothers clutched their children, pulling them close.
Yet the n did not reach for weapons. Instead, they raised their fists, gripping them tight.
Their eyes turned toward the palace... not with despair, but with unshaken faith.
"Our King is there..."
"And the Prince... the new Dragonborn..."
"With them... no Primordial blooded being can stand against our kingdom..."
Outside the collapsing Grand Celebration Hall, amidst the rain of shattered marble and falling pillars. Gin’s Witchblade was inches away from slamming into Drakovitch’s Dragon Bone Mantis Blades in a strike that would have likely leveled the surrounding walls.
But then, the world tilted.
A tremor of such magnitude ripped through the earth. The triumphant, desperate cry of Gin’s sister reaching her "True Form" echoed through the air, but beneath it, Gin heard sothing else: the terrified wail of the very people she claid to be liberating."
The Witchblade stopped dead in the air. The violet and red glow flickered as Gin’s montum vanished. Her crystalline arms trembling as she slowly turned her head toward the palace.
She stared, paralyzed. The sight of the fifty ter titan rising from the ruins of the hall was a nightmare made manifest.
"Sister..."
Drakovitch felt the sa tectonic shift. He didn’t take advantage of her opening. Instead, he snapped his head toward the destruction, his silver eyes narrowing as he scanned the chaos. He saw the flashes of the Asulfang maneuvering, the Crimson Scales shielding the weak, and the Citrineclaw with Percieval—his houses were fleeing and surviving just fine.
But then, his gaze traveled upward. And upward.
The King’s breath hitched. He stood frozen, his bone scythes still extended, as he looked upon that gargantuan, divine lady of storm and stone.
His expression wasn’t one of fear. It was... fascination. He looked like an architect seeing a finished masterpiece, or a man imagining a hundred new possibilities for his bloodline.
"So... that is what you truly are. Your na... it truly lives up to my wildest dreams."
A dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He began to turn back toward Gin.
"Tell , Gin. Can you grow like that too? Because if you can, I might have to reconsider—"
The teasing glint in his eyes vanished instantly as the cry of Gin tore through the night. It wasn’t a battle cry or a shout of defiance—it was a raw, soul shattering wail of grief and horror.
Gin’s violet witchblades began to crack as she fell to her knees, her eyes reflecting the flickering the titan above. The sound of her heartbreak was the only thing loud enough to silence the King’s fascination.
"No... no, no!"
Gin gasped, her voice breaking into a sob.
"This is not what I intended! This wasn’t the way!"
She clawed at the stone floor.
"I intended to end this without... without ever having to use our True Form! I promised them! I promised I would bring them all back with to our kingdom... so that they could be the giants they wanted to be! Not... not to beco a giant just to end their own lives!"
A few hundred yards away, Draculeus’s devastating black-fire punch whistled through empty air.
Shuna had perford a desperate, gravity assisted backflip, landing shakily on the edge of a crater. She didn’t counter-attack. She fell to her knees, her beaten face looking up at the fifty ter giant.
"So... you decided to put your remaining days into becoming what we truly are."
Tears carved clean paths through the soot on her cheeks as she watched the golden radiance of her sister’s True Form illuminate the entire horizon.
"You may reach the sky with that form but you still cannot go back to the Kingdom."
She reached a hand toward the distant, colossal silhouette, ignoring the Dragon Prince standing behind her.
"But you are... beautiful. So strong. Thank you... thank you for standing with us, Sisters. For putting your lives and your entire devotion to your Princess. You showed them. You showed them what it ans to be a Gigante"
She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as the golden light began to fade.
"And I... I am too..."
She didn’t finish the sentence, but the air around her began to thrum with the sa golden light. The "Death Sentence" of the True Form was a siren song, and as she watched her comrade. Shuna’s own Primordial blood began to boil with a final, desperate heat.
Draculeus looked down at her, the black flas around his fists flickering low. In that mont, he didn’t see an enemy or a rebel; he felt a sudden, piercing sadness. It was the sa hollow ache he had felt for his own siblings—those who had burned as fuel so that he could rise to the throne.
He understood the cruel irony of their natures.
"For a Dragonborn, becoming one is a beginning, a rebirth into sothing greater. But for you... for the Gigante... reaching your True Form is the final Chapter."
He paused, voice lowering to sothing colder.
"...Your glory is your grave."
As he watched, Shuna began to glow. It wasn’t just the blinding, solar gold of her sister; it was shot through with veins of dark, swirling violet. Her gravity magic, pushed to its absolute limit, began to warp the light around her, creating a halo of crushed space.
She was transforming.
User Comments
0 comments from readers