The last guardian: Rise of Ethan Wilson

The heavens bled silence.

Above the fractured spires of the Celestial Palace, Pain hovered—a silhouette of fallen divinity draped in shadows that devoured light. His wings, once woven from dawn and dusk, now bled stardust as they unfolded across the void. His expression was no longer that of a rebel.

He was judgment.

Beneath him, celestial guardians stood in broken ranks, their armor cracked, halos flickering, prayers trembling on their lips. They had known terror before—but nothing like this. Not the kind of terror that made the stars retreat. Not the kind that made eternity feel finite.

Pain raised one hand, slow and deliberate.

And the sky answered.

A tidal wave formed behind him—a wall of chaos energy, blacker than space, infused with the echoes of the dying. It surged with hunger, its crest laced with cosmic lightning. It wasn't just destruction. It was deletion.

The guardians barely had time to scream.

The wave crashed.

Light vanished. The first rows—gone. No cries. No remnants. Just silence and dust.

The second line raised barriers, wings flared. Their chants grew louder, desperate.

Ineffective.

The wave swallowed them whole.

The sacred stones beneath the palace cracked and crumbled. Stars blinked out. Time itself stuttered.

And then—stillness.

Half the celestial host was annihilated.

Pain descended to the palace floor like a shadow descending on a grave.

His armor shimmered with shattered halos, and in his hand, he summoned it—the Blade of Oblivion. Ten feet long, formed from broken law and corrupted grace. It hummed with the screams of fallen realms.

He walked through the remains of the defenders. Some crawled. Some begged. Some stared, hollow.

Pain did not slow.

"I pleaded with you," he whispered. "I begged you to see them—the mortals crying in the dark. You turned your backs. So I turned my heart to stone."

He stopped before a guardian, kneeling, bleeding light.

"You could have changed everything."

Pain lifted the blade.

"But now you are just part of the old rot."

The blade fell.

And rose.

And fell again.

Until no guardian remained.

The air stank of burned starlight. The ground trembled as the Blade of Oblivion was driven into it.

Pain looked to the heavens, his breath steady, shoulders unshaking.

"This palace once sang with creation," he murmured. "Now it howls with regret."

The Arrival of the Five

A rumble echoed through the void. Not thunder. Not quake.

Power.

From the broken heavens, five streaks of divine brilliance carved down through the smoke.

Pain looked up.

His eyes narrowed.

When the light faded, five figures stood on the burning ruins.

Tall. Ageless. Radiant. Their auras clashed with the death around them.

The Five.

Not protectors. Not watchers. Warriors.

Thalion — bearer of Gravity's Wrath, whose steps bent dimensions.

Seraphine — the Flame of Purity, wreathed in cleansing fire.

Velarion — Blade of Silence, whose sword spoke louder than any god.

Kairoth — Keeper of Time, his every movement echoing infinity.

Myrrha — Spirit of Judgment, whose gaze pierced all falsehood.

They did not speak.

They didn't need to.

Pain exhaled slowly. "You should've stayed in exile."

Seraphine stepped forward. Her blade ignited.

"You butchered your kin."

"They buried themselves long before I raised a hand," he replied. "Now I'm simply digging up the bones."

Thalion's foot landed with a tremor. "Enough talk."

Pain raised his sword.

They charged.

The Battle Beyond Reason

The first clash cracked the sky.

Chaos met divinity.

Pain's blade met Seraphine's fire. Sparks became suns. Velarion slipped behind him, a silent ghost, his blade barely deflected by a twist of chaos.

Kairoth halted time for a breath. Myrrha's voice rang like a bell of truth:

"Judgment: Initiated."

A beam of divine order slammed into Pain's back.

He staggered.

He laughed.

Then struck back.

Waves of chaos ripped the spire from its foundation. Thalion grabbed it mid-air, turned it into a meteor, and hurled it toward Pain.

Pain sliced it in half.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

The five fought with precision. Balance. Duty.

Pain fought with fury. Loss. Madness.

He was faster than Seraphine, but her flame burned through corruption. He outmatched Thalion in strength, but gravity twisted unpredictably.

Velarion wounded his shoulder.

Myrrha shattered his mask of calm.

Kairoth—Kairoth slowed time around him, forcing Pain to feel every second of his own injuries.

They were not winning.

But neither was he.

Each strike tore deeper wounds into reality. Stars shook. Space bled. The battlefield became a tomb of broken time.

Pain unleashed a scream—a chorus of every world lost. A blast wave of chaos swept out, vaporizing nearby towers.

The Five barely held.

Thalion's voice cracked. "He's drawing power from everything. He'll collapse the veil!"

"We cannot falter," Myrrha answered. "Or every soul will burn."

They pressed on.

The Final Spark

Far below the endless ruin, in a chamber untouched by rage, light pulsed.

The System Core.

A perfect sphere of divine energy, suspended between dimensions. Runes danced across its surface. The air shimmered with raw code.

The Architects stood around it. Silent. Watching.

Supreme Celestial Lord Altheron knelt alone at the center.

His form—fragile. Flickering. His eyes dim.

He had given half his soul already.

Now, he would give the rest.

"Report," he said.

"System completion: 100%," one Architect replied.

"Synchronization with multiversal threads achieved," added another.

"Host selection pending. Search algorithm initiating."

Altheron nodded. "Then it's time."

He raised his hand.

Touched the core.

Pain lanced through him. Not physical. Not emotional.

Existential.

His divine self unraveled.

But he smiled.

"This is what it means to love creation," he whispered. "To give… without return."

Golden veins cracked across his chest.

His voice trembled.

"Let it find the one who's broken… but not lost."

The core responded.

A pulse.

A flare.

Then a beam—bright as the first dawn—shot upward, piercing the ruins, escaping into the stars.

Pain's Realization

Pain froze.

He felt it.

Not in power.

In soul.

He turned his eyes to the sky and saw the light.

His grip tightened.

"No…"

The Five pressed in.

"You've lost, Pain," Seraphine growled.

He roared, blasting them all away in a single explosion of chaos.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?" he screamed to the skies.

But the light was gone.

The core had launched.

The system was awake.

And Altheron's body turned to ash—smiling.

"Go," the ashes whispered, drifting into the light. "Find the boy who still remembers hope."