Purnama's gaze remained locked on the beast, his jaw clenched tight.
"That brat is..." Zirko's voice trailed off, a sudden chill seeping into the air. "If Kelembai has this many forms, it means it's a Hoster Darkseed."
"Then let me handle the puppet," Purnama replied, his voice a low growl of determination. "Go. Find the real body."
Zirko's icy form shattered. He splintered into countless razor-sharp shards that swarmed across Western Avalon like a cloud of frozen bees. They moved with singular purpose, tracking the source—knowing a Hoster Darkseed could never wander far from its puppet.
Zirko's sudden absence left a dangerous void that the green wolf immediately exploited. It lunged ferociously, but before Purnama could strike, the creature's form destabilized. It morphed into a massive fireball and detonated in a blinding flash. The deafening roar of the explosion sent a cascade of scorched debris raining down, burying Purnama beneath a mountain of wreckage.
Seizing the moment, Kelembai tore at the earth. It ripped a breach in the foundations, allowing the floodwaters from the shattered western walls to rush in. Its intent was clear: to drown the Celestion beneath the rising tide and rubble.
Above the chaos, Kelembai shifted once more. Its body elongated, sprouting magnificent feathered wings that spanned the width of the street. It soared into the stormy sky to survey the battlefield, its reptilian gaze glinting with predatory triumph.
But beneath the rising water and choking dust, the earth trembled.
Purnama struck. He smashed through the heavy wreckage with a single, devastating fist, sending jagged fragments of stone whistling through the air. Alerted by the escape, the prehistoric titan in the sky let out a shriek and launched a lightning strike—silver bolts like striking serpents aimed directly at Purnama's head.
With a blurred motion, Purnama deflected the strike with his bare hand. The sheer force of the impact tore his sleeve away, revealing a strange, glowing symbol etched into his wrist: σδτ.
Startled by the effortless redirection of its attack, Kelembai banked hard into the sky, glaring down with burning, incredulous rage.
Suddenly, the icy shards homed in. Zirko reformed in a swirl of frost at Purnama's side.
"Found it!" Zirko hissed, his voice sharp with urgency. "In the heart of that tower—the Puaka is chanting inside."
Purnama didn't wait. He marched forward, drawing Kelembai's focus with every heavy step. The creature shrieked, lashing out with violent gusts of wind and a relentless barrage of lightning to stem his advance, but Purnama pressed on toward the central structure like an unstoppable force of nature.
Realization—and then cold panic—dawned in Kelembai's eyes. It dove from the clouds to intercept him, but Zirko reacted instantly. He erected layer upon layer of jagged ice walls, cutting off the beast's path and leaving the way clear for Purnama to reach the tower.
At that precise instant, the heart of Avalon convulsed. A massive pulse of dark energy rippled through the city, and a colossal Darkseed loomed over the central tower, its presence heavy, suffocating, and ominous. Purnama, caught mid-stride, staggered as the sheer weight of that power slammed into him.
He looked toward the center of the city, his breath hitching, but he forced his eyes away.
"I have to stay focused on this fight," he hissed, driving the distraction into the back of his mind. "Gema is there. He can handle that thing."
Purnama bolted up the spiral stairs, his chappals echoing against stone and his heart hammering against his ribs. He burst into the upper chamber and finally came face-to-face with the true Kelembai.
It was a Manusya Puaka—a creature wearing the physical mask of an eight-year-old boy. Thick, emerald-green hair spiraled past its waist, and a singular, wicked horn protruded from its forehead. Its crimson eyes gleamed with a predatory light where it stood, fingers pressed firmly to its brow, its entire being focused on weaving the threads of its puppets. Clad in a tattered brown robe, it looked small and vulnerable—a pathetic facade hiding a well of ancient cruelty.
"So," Purnama growled, his knuckles whitening as his fists tightened. "There you are."
Caught off guard, Kelembai's concentration shattered like glass. Outside, the great beast it had been controlling dissolved into thin air, its power vanishing in an instant. The creature began to stammer, its voice the high-pitched quiver of a spoiled, terrified child. A trail of snot escaped its nose as it scrambled backward.
"Hey! Hey! I'm just a kid, see? Spare me!" Kelembai pleaded, stumbling up the remaining stairs in a fit of manufactured terror. "You idiot Celestion... you wouldn't hurt a child, would you?"
Purnama took a slow, steady breath, drawing a brilliant, golden radiance into his right fist. He didn't blink.
"A Darkseed is a Darkseed," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm. "I don't care what form you take... but this one? I think I like this one best. It's a very punchable face."
Power erupted from Purnama's fist, the sheer pressure whipping the air around him into a localized gale.
"No! Noo! NOOO!" Kelembai whimpered, fat tears welling in its eyes as it realized the ruse had failed.
"AURORA FIST!"
Purnama's roar drowned out the creature's cries as he channeled the full, devastating force of the King's Fist technique. The blow connected with bone-crushing power, launching Kelembai straight through the tower's stone roof. It slammed into the massive solar plate with a blinding burst of light before both the creature and the shattered plate plummeted through the air, crashing far outside the walls of Avalon.
As the solar plate splintered, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the city. The great steam-powered gears ground to a halt with a final, metallic groan, the constant hiss of the pipes died away, and the relentless downpour of rain finally ceased.
The battle for West Avalon was won.
At the junction where the teams had first split, Gema placed Arthur and Lancelot down near the civilians. He looked back just in time to see the western solar plate shatter. A small smile touched his lips.
"Please, people of Avalon, take good care of your saviors," Gema said to the crowd.
"By the gods, a knight should perish in the fray, not cower behind walls!" Arthur's voice boomed, even as he struggled to stand.
Gema gave the King a broad smile and crushed a Dykin seed between his fingers. A swirling vortex opened, and in a flash of lightning, he appeared before Bota—the colossal, rock-like figure looming over the city.
"So, this is your true form?" Gema taunted, unsheathing his kris. "I expected more. You're a joke. This won't take long."
Gema became a blur of motion. As miniature golems spawned from Bota's stony fists to swarm him, they were instantly disintegrated by a wall of crackling electricity. With a defiant roar, Gema soared toward Bota's head. He plunged his kris into the giant's skull with thunderous force, cleaving the monster in two.
The lightning within the blade triggered a chain reaction. A raging torrent of energy erupted from within the divided form, reducing the creature to nothingness.
Suria and Palademes arrived at the junction to find a scene of chilling desolation. A heavy, suffocating silence had descended over the crowd. The survivors stood amidst the ruins, their eyes hollow with grief and burning with silent accusation as they looked upon Arthur and his knights. To them, these were not heroes yet—only the harbingers of the storm that had leveled their homes and taken their kin.
Purnama arrived moments later, his expression softening as he took in the palpable unrest. Arthur, sensing the crushing weight upon his people's hearts, signaled his few remaining knights. With a weary but firm step, he moved into the center of the crowd.
"Hear me, good people of Avalon," he began, his voice resonant and kingly despite his exhaustion. "Thy anger is known to me, and I mourn with thee. This war hath brought untold suffering upon thy fair land." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the survivors with a father's sorrow.
"We embarked as thirteen—a brotherhood bound by destiny. Now, but seven remain. We have endured loss, treachery, and a crucible of trials. But to know that our kin, those we swore to protect, now dwell in fear... that is a wound that can never be healed."
In one swift, reverent motion, he unsheathed Excalibur. The legendary blade gleamed with an ethereal light, untouched by the soot and blood of the ruins. He extended the hilt toward Purnama.
"This day, I entrust Excalibur unto thee—a symbol of Avalon's strength and the indomitable spirit that uniteth us. Let it serve as a beacon, a reminder that Avalon shall forever stand with those who strive for freedom!" Arthur's voice rose, vibrating with the authority of a true sovereign. "Rise and awaken the bridge! Herald a new dawn of unity and hope!"
Around him, his knights knelt in a sacred circle. In a final act of solidarity, every knight—save for Arthur—drew their swords and plunged them deep into the earth.
"I beseech thee," Arthur said, turning to the twins. "Entreat Gema to guard Excalibur with the very essence of his soul. It is more than a weapon; it is our legacy."
Arthur began an ancient, melodic incantation. Thirteen brilliant auras, vibrant and pulsing with life, spiraled upward from the earth and the knights alike. The kaleidoscope of power coalesced into a radiant white orb above them. Arthur gave a final, brief bow of gratitude, and then the light vanished from within the armor. The hollow steel shells of the knights collapsed to the ground, vacant and still.
The magical orb soared toward the city center, and upon reaching the heart of the ruins, it erupted. Through the mystic artistry of Merlin, a wave of restoration swept across the land. It mended shattered stone, sealed the breaches in the great walls, and—most miraculously—breathed the spark of life back into those who had fallen in the fray.
Gema reached the junction just as the light faded, looking out at the stunned, weeping residents.
"People of Avalon, Arthur is not just a King; he is your savior," Gema declared, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The city is restored, and those you lost have been granted a second chance. They await you now. Arthur and his knights live on in your hearts—their souls are now part of the very air you breathe."
The anger in the crowd dissolved, replaced by tears of overwhelming joy. With newfound reverence, the people began to gather the discarded armor and swords, carrying them back toward the revived city. Already, whispers of a memorial statue began to spread—a monument to the King and the knights who had given their very existence for Avalon.
"That's the Gema we know, right?" Suria whispered, nudging her brother, her eyes glistening.
Purnama nodded, passing the weight of Excalibur to Gema.
"It's time for them to rebuild," Gema said, clutching the legendary sword. "This is where our paths part for now. Thanks for the hand, you two. Let's do dinner in Aurea soon—I'll explain everything then."
With a final wave, Gema crushed a Dykin seed and vanished through a shimmering portal.
"That shorty's always in such a hurry," Suria huffed, crossing her arms. "I didn't even get to ask if he has extra seeds!"
Purnama chuckled and patted his sister's head.
"I have something even better than a seed for you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a beautifully crafted weapon. "The Gerhana Kris."
"WAAA! My kris!" Suria squealed, snatching the weapon and hugging it to her chest. "I missed you! I'll never let you go again!"
"Let's get moving," Purnama said, looking toward the horizon. We'll need Zirko to help us cross the river."
"Great idea... I'm exhausted after summoning Jentayu." Suria agreed, her voice trailing off into a tired but happy yawn.
They left Avalon behind, riding across the water on a path of crystalline ice formed by Zirko's power. Their victory was behind them; their sights were now set on their next destination: Tambora.