[Oliver’s POV]

  “Give me your best shot.”

  The Sovereign’s voice was calm. It wasn’t a command, nor was it a challenge.

  Oliver stood frozen, his gaze locked on the ancient being before him. For a long moment, he didn’t move. But the Sovereign’s eyes were steady. Waiting.

  Finally, Oliver exhaled. He took two steps back, his boots scraping against the cracked stone. His gaze flicked around the chamber.

  Katherine. Adrian. The others.

  Still frozen.

  Time itself remained locked.

  No one would see this. No one would ever know what he was about to do.

  He clenched his fists. 'If this is what he wants… then I’ll give it everything.'

  The Energy inside him stirred, a deep, golden current that pulsed through his veins. It was heavier now, slower, the exhaustion of the previous battles still dragging at his muscles. But he forced it forward, let it rise, let it burn.

  The glow spread across his body, rippling beneath his skin before erupting outward in waves of golden fire. The air shimmered with heat. The ground beneath his feet cracked.

  This was no longer the controlled, internalized technique; the dense, compact power he used to strengthen his body.

  This was Prometheus.

  Where the internal technique made him solid, immovable. This one made him incandescent, volatile, explosive. The flames didn’t burn; they devoured the air, coiling around him like a living storm.

  He could feel the Energy slipping from his control, wild and unstable, but he embraced it.

  'Only something like this has a chance to scratch a Sovereign,' he thought bitterly. 'And even then, it’ll only scratch.'

  The golden fire licked up his arms, gathering at his right hand. But even as the flames roared, he could feel it, it was weaker. The fatigue. The cost of every battle he had fought before.

  He looked down at his hand. The glow was dimmer, the flames smaller. When he had fought the dragon, his Energy had burned like a sun.

  Still, it was enough. It had to be enough.

  Then he whispered the words.

  [Prometheus Strike.]

  Even so, Oliver whispered the name of the technique under his breath as he charged. The words themselves carried weight, resonating through the air like a battle hymn. His body blurred into motion, golden light trailing behind him in a fiery arc.

  The Sovereign didn’t move.

  He simply stood there, arms open, chest exposed, waiting.

  And then Oliver struck.

  The golden flare of [Prometheus Strike] lit the chamber like a second sun. The impact landed dead center, shaking the pillars, splitting the ground beneath their feet.

  For a heartbeat, Oliver expected destruction.

  If this had been a human, the body would have disintegrated. Flesh, bone, and blood turned to vapor.

  If this had been a god, the Energy would have been absorbed, nullified entirely, leaving nothing but silence.

  But neither happened.

  His arm went through the Sovereign’s chest, as though piercing air. There was no resistance, no explosion, no blood—only a sudden, suffocating weight.

  Then the pain came.

  Something sharp and cold clamped around his arm, like metallic tendrils coiling up his skin. The pressure was immense, dragging him downward.

  Oliver gritted his teeth and tried to pull free, but the Sovereign’s body was no longer flesh. It was changing.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He reached out with his other hand, bracing against the Sovereign’s shoulder. Only there was no shoulder anymore. The texture beneath his fingers was rough, solid, unyielding.

  Stone.

  The Sovereign’s body had turned to rock.

  A massive weight pulled him forward. The air was thick with Energy.

  Oliver stumbled back, his arm still half-buried in the stone. He could feel it vibrating against his skin, a pulse of power unlike anything he had ever felt before.

  Then he saw it.

  The glow.

  The entire surface of the stone shimmered with a metallic yellow light. The Sovereign’s body was gone, replaced by a single massive crystal in his form.

  'That… that’s a Z Crystal?' Oliver questioned himself.

  It looked like the Crystals he carried, but different. More refined. More powerful. Its glow wasn’t the soft shimmer of Energy. It was metallic.

  For a moment, Oliver could only stare at the crystallized remains of the Sovereign.

  Then something moved.

  A single particle of dust, so small it should have been invisible, drifted past his face. It was falling.

  Oliver’s stomach dropped. 'Damn it. Without him, time’s going to start again.'

  Panic flared in his chest. He looked down at the glowing rock, the remnants of a god, and clenched his fists. 'I have to take this with me.'

  He struck.

  His fists, still wrapped in golden light, slammed into the crystalized surface. The first blow cracked it. The second shattered the outer layer.

  He worked quickly. One by one, he scooped the fragments into several pouches. The bags were never meant to hold so much crystal, but he forced the pieces in anyway.

  By the time he was almost done, the chamber had begun to stir.

  He heard it first. The faint echo of footsteps hitting stone.

  Then the air itself changed. The dense Energy was dissipating. The pressure that had hung over the place for what felt like eternity finally lifted.

  Time resumed.

  Slowly at first, then all at once.

  The frozen motes of dust began to fall. The sound of breathing, of life, returned to the room.

  Oliver straightened, clutching the bags around his body. The Sovereign’s presence was gone and erased, as if he had never existed. But the world around them… it was changing. The temple groaned, ancient stone shifting as the last vestiges of divine influence faded.

  What would happen to this place? To the lost city? To the planet itself, now free of the being that had held it in balance for millennia?

  He didn’t know.

  It was like watching a video fast-forwarding through time.

  The stillness unraveled completely, and motion returned in a rush. Katherine and Adrian snapped back to life, their bodies completing the movements they had started before time had stopped.

  Katherine reached Alan first, kneeling beside him, her hands moving quickly to wipe the blood from his face. Her expression was a mix of relief and worry.

  Adrian, on the other hand, looked toward Demi. His expression was calm, yet with some concern. He extended a hand to help her up. Yet, she slapped it away.

  Oliver was ready to say bye-bye to that place. Yet he still had one last thing to do.

  In his hand, he held two shards of the Sovereign’s remains, each one roughly the size of a finger.

  He walked toward Demi, who was still sitting on the floor, her breathing labored, sweat streaking her face. The crimson glow of her trident had faded to nothing, leaving only the faint light of her Gauntlet’s emergency systems.

  “Good fight,” Oliver said quietly.

  His voice was tired, almost gentle.

  He dropped one of the crystals at her feet. It rolled once before coming to rest against her leg, the faint glow reflecting in her wide, confused eyes.

  “What is this?” she asked, her tone uncertain, suspicion and curiosity mixing in equal measure.

  Oliver didn’t answer. He couldn’t, not now. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, and words felt heavier than the crystals he carried. He simply turned away.

  Katherine’s gaze followed him as he crossed the chamber. Her expression was guarded, her posture tense. She didn’t move, but her eyes tracked every step, studying him like a predator assessing whether the wounded animal before her was still dangerous.

  Alan stood beside her, leaning heavily against her shoulder for support. His face was pale, his jaw set. The blood on his nose had dried to a dark crust, and his breathing was shallow.

  Oliver stopped in front of him and extended his hand.

  Alan hesitated but raised his own. Oliver placed the second crystal in his palm. The contact was brief, the faint hum of Energy passing between them.

  “Make good use of it,” Oliver said softly.

  Before either of them could respond, he turned away.

  Alan and Katherine exchanged a glance, confusion flickering between them.

  But Oliver didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.

  The pouch at his side was heavy with fragments of Z Crystals. That amount was unheard of, becoming a beacon, a temptation, a death sentence if anyone realized what he carried.

  His footsteps echoed through the temple as he made for the stairway, the same path Demi had taken earlier.

  But this wasn’t his only way home.

  From the breast pocket of his tattered uniform, he pulled out a small metallic card, its surface scratched and worn. The faint engraving on it was nearly erased, but the words were still legible if you knew how to look.

  CHILDREN OF THE PAST

  He held it up, his fingers trembling from exhaustion.

  “Take me home,” he whispered.