Evolution begins with an ant colony

[Ding!! The player is in close proximity of an †Authority† dose the player wish to consume it to chaos evolve?]

Akun's mind churned with questions and uncertainty. Consuming an authority? The concept was alien and enigmatic, shrouded in mystery. Yet, faced with the looming threat of Xalander's scythe and the desperation of the moment, he had little choice but to act decisively.

With resolve hardening his gaze, he muttered, "Well, I don't have another choice. System, consume the authority."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The words hung in the air, a pact with the unknown forged in the crucible of impending doom.

[Consuming the †Authority†.....]

[...]

Silence enveloped Akun, broken only by his own desperate calls to the system. "System! System!" he cried out, but the void seemed to swallow his pleas.

As Xalander's scythe drew nearer, Akun's thoughts raced in a frantic whirlwind. "I don't understand," he mused, anxiety gnawing at his resolve. "Why hasn't the system given me a response yet?"

The seconds stretched into an eternity, a stark reminder of the perilous brink on which he teetered.

Akun gritted his teeth, his mind racing. "I don't understand what's happening," he thought, frustration and determination intertwining, "but it's clear, I can't rely on the system this time. I have to find a way to survive this somehow."

With the system's comforting presence gone, he was left alone to face the chilling inevitability of Xalander's scythe.

Akun's mind raced as he pondered his next move. "I have to enhance the black silver around my arms with aspect power," he thought, resolve flaring, "and try to block the attack."

In those heart-pounding moments that expanded into an eternity, Akun summoned his aspect power, surging it through his arms as he swiftly raised them to defend himself. The very air seemed to thicken with tension as his dark silver armor gleamed in the moonlight, and his purple eyes burned with his firce sprit.

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, Xalender's voice resounded with chilling arrogance, punctuating the deafening silence. "How naive," he intoned, his tone dripping with mockery, "to think you can block an attack from a god."

The world seemed to hold its breath as Xalender's immense scythe descended, the moonlight dancing along its razor-sharp edge.

(A/N: Please don't drop, just read to the end.)

In a final, breathtaking motion, Xalander's scythe sliced through Akun's outstretched arms as though they were nothing more than parchment. The sheer force of the cut sent shockwaves through the battlefield, as if reality itself protested against the godly power.

Akun's head, severed cleanly from his body, seemed to hang in the air for an agonizing moment. His purple eyes, once filled with resolve, now stared in frozen disbelief at his own demise. Then, like a macabre puppet cut free of its strings, his head was flung skyward, a morbid testament to the raw, irresistible might of Xalander.

As Akun's head soared through the moonlit night, time itself seemed to crawl, stretching each passing second into an unending abyss. Within this eerie suspension, his thoughts raced like a torrential storm.

His head spun in the air, disconnected from its corporeal vessel. Panic and confusion swirled within him. "Am I flying?" he pondered, but then a grim realization struck him cold. "No, I can't feel my hands, my legs, my body... I didn't block the attack."

In the midst of this surreal moment, Akun's inner turmoil erupted into a torrent of self-reflection. "Damn it! Why, why, why is it always me?" he lamented in a voice silenced by the absence of a throat. His memories flashed back to Earth, where he had been the victim of relentless bullying. "Just wanted to go home," he thought bitterly, "but I was tricked. Got a new chance at life, but I lost a friend.

Wanted to go out on an adventure, but I lost my home."

The weight of his unending misfortunes bore down on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was destined to suffer. "I came to avenge my people and save a dear friend," he mused, "and I end up dead. Why must fate always play cruel tricks on me? Don't I deserve happiness? Why must everything always be taken away from me?"

Finally, as his severed head found its resting place upon the unforgiving ground, Akun's inner monologue continued to echo in the silence. Regret filled his thoughts as he lamented, "And I didn't even get to have my revenge either."

A single, poignant tear rolled down his left cheek, a silent proof to the profound sorrow that had marked his existence, even into this chilling moment of death.

Oliver, who had been watching the gruesome scene unfold from a safe distance, was overcome with grief. Tears streamed down his face as he shouted, "Boss!" With a heavy heart, he sprinted toward the place where Akun's severed head lay, desperate to somehow reverse the tragic turn of events.

Xalender, the enigmatic god of death who had been the puppeteer in this macabre performance, took note of Oliver's approach. His piercing gaze shifted from the fallen Akun to Memorina, the grieving widow, her tears a proof of her unimaginable loss.

With measured steps, Xalender began to walk slowly toward Memorina. The eerie intensity that had filled Phenor's eyes just moments before had dissipated, leaving behind a void of lifelessness. Phenor's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, a mere shell of the once-mighty king.

Xalender, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality, addressed Memorina with an air of detachment. "The contract has been fulfilled," he intoned. "I shall return his body now."

Memorina, her voice laden with sorrow and anger, crawled toward Phenor's body. She rested her head on his chest and continued to cry bitterly. Her words were a mix of anguish and reproach as she said, "You jerk, how could you just go and leave me like this? We were supposed to grow old together."

In the midst of this heart-wrenching scene, the god of death fulfilled his end of the contract, and returned to the underworld.

Phenor's body would be returned to the earth from which it had been borrowed. Yet, for Memorina, the pain of losing her beloved king would remain, a gaping wound in her heart that time alone could never fully heal.

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