Ascension of the Eternal Game-Chapter 27: Storm’s Fury

The storm crashed down like a living thing, a roaring beast of wind and lightning that tore at the jagged cliffs of the Aether Peaks. Alex Kain ducked behind a slab of rock, his breath ragged, the air thick with the sharp tang of mana and burnt stone. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the chaos: Lyra Vex crouched beside him, her bow clutched tight, her red hair whipping in the gale; Kael Stoneforge darted between shadows, daggers glinting; Elara Moonwhisper stood firm, her staff aglow with a faint barrier protecting Thorne and Mikey, who clung to each other, wide-eyed.

Above them, Garrick Voss floated, his dark armor slick with rain, his silhouette framed by the storm he commanded. His voice cut through the thunder, deep and mocking. "Give me the key, Alex Kain, or I'll bury you all in this storm."

Alex's fingers tightened on his sword, his pulse hammering. The key—an artifact they'd found in the ruins of Valthor, tied to the Eternal Gate—was their only lead to finding Mikey's captor, Vira Thorn, and stopping her plans with the Shadow Wyrm. Garrick's power was overwhelming, his storm magic drawing strength from the Peaks' mana-rich air, but Alex couldn't back down. Not now.

He shot a glance at Lyra. "Can you buy me a second?"

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Her green eyes flashed with resolve. "Always." She nocked an arrow and sprang up, loosing a glowing shaft—enchanted by Elara's magic—straight at Garrick. The arrow streaked through the wind, and though Garrick deflected it with a flick of his hand, summoning a gust to knock it aside, Lyra kept firing, forcing him to focus on her.

Kael moved like a ghost, slipping through the storm's chaos to flank Garrick. His daggers slashed out, aiming for the man's back, but Garrick twisted, a bolt of lightning erupting from his palm. It struck Kael dead-on, hurling him into the cliff with a sickening crunch, his body crumpling as sparks danced across his leather armor.

"Kael!" Alex's shout was swallowed by the wind, fear clawing at his chest.

Elara darted to Kael's side, her silver hair plastered to her face as she knelt, hands glowing with healing light. "He's breathing," she called, her voice tight. "But we're running out of time."

Alex's mind raced. Garrick's storm was too wild, too powerful. His Skill Synthesis hummed inside him, a spark of possibility. He'd used Disruptor's Edge before to break mana flows, but it wouldn't be enough here. He needed something to fight the storm itself. Closing his eyes against the stinging rain, he focused, pulling together Stormrend Blade—forged in a fight with a drake—and Radiant Ward, a shield of light. The skills fused in a rush of heat and clarity.

Synthesis Successful! New Skill: Tempest Ward

Tempest Ward: A barrier that absorbs storm-based attacks and redirects their energy. Cost: 60 Mana.

"Get behind me!" Alex yelled, raising his sword. A dome of shimmering energy flared out, encasing the group. Garrick's next lightning strike hit the ward, the energy crackling across its surface before Alex thrust his blade forward, sending it screaming back. The bolt slammed into Garrick, knocking him from the air. He hit the ground hard, armor smoking, the storm stuttering for a heartbeat.

Garrick rose, his eyes blazing. "Clever," he snarled, "but I am the storm." He flung his arms wide, and the sky darkened, purple clouds churning as wind howled with renewed fury.

Alex charged, Tempest Ward shifting into a shield around him. Lyra flanked left, swapping her bow for twin swords, while Thorne lumbered right, his warhammer sparking with mana. Garrick unleashed a barrage—wind sharp as blades, lightning that seared the air—but the ward absorbed it all, glowing brighter with each hit. Alex swung, his sword blazing with redirected energy, a slashing arc that cracked Garrick's armor and sent him reeling.

Lyra darted in, her blades carving into Garrick's side, quick and precise, while Thorne's hammer crashed down, shattering the ground and forcing Garrick to stagger back. Blood dripped from a cut on his brow, but he grinned, unhinged, and thrust a hand out. A pulse of mana exploded, throwing them all back—Alex skidding across wet stone, Lyra tumbling, Thorne crashing to one knee.

"You're good," Garrick rasped, wiping blood from his face. "Better than Vira said. But the Eternal Gate isn't yours to claim. Eryndor's dying—mana's bleeding out, worlds are breaking. The gate's the key to fixing it—or ending it."

Alex pushed himself up, his body aching. "What are you talking about? Vira's finished."

Garrick's laugh was bitter. "She was a tool, Kain. Like you. The gate's masters are coming, and I'll be ready." He raised his hand, and the storm roared to life, a vortex of lightning and wind swirling around him. "Next time, you won't walk away."

With a thunderous crack, he vanished, the storm collapsing into eerie silence, leaving only the hum of mana and the patter of rain.

The group stumbled together, battered and soaked. Elara propped Kael up, his face pale but smirking. "Bastard's got a flair for drama," he muttered, coughing as her magic mended cracked ribs.

Lyra sheathed her swords, shivering. "He's right about the mana. It's... wrong here. Too thick, too wild."

Thorne hefted his hammer, frowning at the fractured cliffs. "Gate's near. Garrick's running scared."

Alex stared where Garrick had stood, his words echoing. "Eryndor's dying." The storms, the corrupted beasts, the strange pulses of mana—it fit, a puzzle he hadn't seen until now. But doubt gnawed at him. Was the gate salvation or destruction? And Mikey—where did he fit in Vira's—or Garrick's—plans?

"We keep going," Alex said, steadying his voice. "The gate's all we've got."

They climbed higher, the air growing thin, the mana so dense it buzzed against their skin. The Peaks towered, their tips veiled in clouds, but a faint light pulsed ahead—the Eternal Gate, calling them forward.

Then a shadow swept overhead, massive and swift, wings cutting the mist. A roar shook the mountains, primal and deep, rattling their bones. Alex froze, his blood icing over. The Shadow Wyrm—Vira's beast—loomed in the storm, its eyes glowing like twin moons.

Lyra's hand grabbed his, her grip fierce. "Together," she whispered, her voice a lifeline.

Alex nodded, steeling himself. The gate was close, but so was the fight of their lives. Whatever lay ahead—Vira, Garrick, or the Wyrm—they'd face it as one.