The aftermath of the battle left an eerie silence in the air. The Watcher, whatever it had been, was gone—but its words echoed in Ezra's mind. "This is not the end. It is only the beginning." The tension in his chest tightened again, as if the very air was warning them of something far worse yet to come.
Ezra stood alone in the middle of the now-deserted battlefield, the faint glow of the sunrise casting long shadows on the scorched earth. The winds had picked up again, swirling around him in an unsettling dance, and the smell of burnt ozone lingered in the air.
The rest of the group was scattered around the area, tending to their wounds or surveying the landscape. Meliodas was at the edge of the clearing, inspecting his blade. Escanor stood a little farther off, his golden light still flickering from his body. Merlin was deep in thought, her brow furrowed as she conjured arcane symbols in the air.
Ezra couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Something wasn't right. The Watcher had been defeated, yes, but the sense of impending doom remained. His instincts screamed at him to prepare for the storm that was on the horizon.
"Ezra," Meliodas's voice broke through his thoughts. "You alright?"
Ezra snapped out of his trance and looked over at his companion. Meliodas had an inquisitive look on his face, one that suggested he was worried but trying not to show it.
"I'm fine," Ezra replied, though his voice betrayed him. He took a deep breath, glancing over at the others. "But something feels off."
Meliodas studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I know what you mean. The Watcher was powerful, but it was only a part of something larger. It came for you, Ezra, and that tells me something is watching all of us now. We're being hunted."
Ezra's pulse quickened, but he didn't let it show. "Hunted? By who?"
Escanor stepped forward, his expression solemn. "This isn't over. There's something out there—a force we haven't even begun to understand."
Merlin joined the group, and for the first time, she looked genuinely concerned. "Escanor's right. The Watcher was only the first piece of the puzzle. But the puzzle is bigger than we thought."
Ezra clenched his fists. The storm wasn't just coming—it was already here.
"I'll figure this out," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "We need answers."
He turned to face the horizon, the sun still rising, but the light was now tinged with an unsettling red hue. The countdown continued to tick in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that time was running out.
[Countdown to the Main Story: 135,150 Hours]
A sharp pang of urgency hit him. The numbers were dwindling, and every second felt like it might be their last. Whatever was coming next, they needed to be ready.
"Merlin," Ezra said, his voice firm, "Do you have any idea what this force could be?"
Merlin hesitated, then sighed. "The Watcher... It's connected to something ancient. A force that has existed long before the rise of the Demon King, the Goddess Clan, or even the Holy Knights. It's a force that manipulates fate itself."
Escanor, ever the realist, crossed his arms. "So we're dealing with something that bends reality to its will. Great."
Ezra felt a chill run down his spine, but he steeled himself. "Then we'll fight it. We'll break whatever strings it's trying to pull on us."
Meliodas placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's the spirit, but you're not alone in this. We all fight together."
But even as he said those words, a shadow passed over them. It was subtle at first, a flicker in the sunlight, a disturbance in the air. But it was enough to make everyone stop and look up, their senses on high alert.
And then, from the distance, came the sound of thunder.
But it wasn't just thunder. It was the sound of something massive, something moving across the land with an unnatural speed.
"Get ready!" Escanor shouted, his aura flaring brightly as he took his battle stance.
Ezra's heart raced. The ground beneath them trembled, and the sky above darkened with ominous clouds. The storm had arrived—its heart was now beating in the distance, and they were standing at the epicenter of its fury.
The wind howled around them, and suddenly, as if summoned by the storm itself, a figure appeared from the shadows.
A figure that was neither demon nor human, but something else entirely.
It was cloaked in darkness, its eyes glowing like molten lava. Its presence was suffocating, its power radiating out in waves, rippling through the very air. It stood taller than Escanor, its massive form cloaked in swirling black energy that seemed to absorb the light around it.
This was no ordinary enemy. This was something ancient, something beyond their comprehension.
Ezra drew his sword, his hands steady but his heart pounding in his chest. The countdown ticked in his mind again, reminding him of the fragile seconds left in the ticking clock.
The figure's voice rang out, deep and powerful, echoing across the land like a thunderclap.
"You are too late," it said. "The storm cannot be stopped. And neither can I."
[Countdown to the Main Story: 135,100 Hours]