Apophis

The forest was alive with the sounds of battle, every strike and roar echoing through the trees like thunder. Luphar, once the proud guardian of these lands, now fought with the ferocity of a beast driven mad. His massive claws tore through the earth, and each of his movements was a violent testament to the overwhelming power he had gained—and lost control of.

Apophis, dodging and weaving between Luphar’s brutal strikes, could feel the weight of the abyssal energy coursing through his veins. Each encounter with an enemy like Luphar brought him closer to fully understanding the potential of his powers, but it also forced him to realize just how dangerous the path he was walking truly was.

Cyrus, always eager to rush in, let out a booming laugh as he charged at Luphar. “That all you got? You’re just a big angry kitten!” His colossal jaws snapped dangerously close to Luphar’s legs, trying to knock the tiger off balance.

But Luphar was quick—unnaturally quick for his size. With a snarl, he leapt back, dodging Cyrus’ attack, then pounced toward Finn, who had been circling the fight, looking for an opening.

“Finn, move!” Apophis shouted.

But Finn was already in motion, sliding underneath Luphar with an almost feline grace. “I’m not going down that easy,” he muttered, landing a slash of his own on Luphar’s side.

Luphar roared in fury, staggering from the hit, but not enough to stop him. His eyes burned red, filled with a madness that only deepened with each passing moment. It was as if every ounce of reason had been burned away, replaced by an insatiable hunger for destruction.

Apophis realized they couldn’t keep fighting Luphar like this. He was too strong, too relentless. There had to be another way to end this. His eyes narrowed as he scanned Luphar’s mutated form, noticing something off—a deep, blackened scar running down his neck. It pulsated with a dark energy, the same energy that Apophis had sensed from Rakar’s minions before.

“That scar,” Apophis muttered to himself. “It’s connected to whatever Rakar did to him.”

Suddenly, an idea struck him. If they could exploit that weakness, maybe they could break whatever hold Rakar had over Luphar. But they needed a plan—and they needed it fast.

As Luphar lunged again, this time aiming for Apophis, the serpent darted to the side and shouted, “Cyrus, Finn! Hit him on the neck! That’s where the corruption is!”

“Finally, a plan I like!” Cyrus grinned, charging forward with renewed vigor. “Let’s crack that damn scar wide open!”

Finn nodded, already in motion. He darted behind Luphar, quick and agile, while Cyrus took a more direct approach, his massive form crashing into the tiger with full force. Luphar snarled in rage, swinging wildly, but the combination of their efforts began to wear him down.

With a flash of dark energy, Apophis surged forward, landing a precise blow right on the scar. For a moment, Luphar froze, his eyes widening in shock and pain. The dark energy surrounding him seemed to flicker, and for the briefest of moments, Apophis saw something else in those eyes—regret? Fear?

But the moment passed, and Luphar let out a bone-chilling roar, thrashing wildly as he fought to maintain control. Apophis didn’t let up, pushing harder, focusing all his energy on the scar. It was a gamble, but if he could sever Rakar’s influence, maybe they could save what was left of Luphar.

“Stay on him!” Apophis yelled, feeling the tension rise.

As Finn and Cyrus coordinated their strikes, Luphar’s movements grew more erratic. It was working. The dark energy surrounding him began to dissipate, revealing more of the tiger beneath the madness. But as the corruption weakened, something else emerged—a voice, low and sinister, echoing from within Luphar.

“You think you can break my hold that easily, Apophis?” It wasn’t Luphar speaking—it was Rakar.

Apophis froze. Rakar’s voice slithered into his mind like poison, every word dripping with malice. The abyssal power in his veins reacted, pulsing with a strange familiarity. This was the true enemy—the one pulling the strings.

Luphar’s body lurched forward, the corrupted tiger’s face contorted with pain. “He... made me...” Luphar growled, his voice strained. “He forced me to eat it... to become this!”

“What did he give you, Luphar?” Apophis demanded, his voice steady but urgent.

“The... seed...” Luphar choked out, his eyes clouded with torment. “A seed of... something dark. I couldn’t resist... it gave me strength, but...”

“But it took your mind,” Finn finished grimly, his expression hardening. “Damn that Rakar.”

As Luphar collapsed to his knees, Apophis felt the dark energy inside the tiger shift again, this time weaker—dissipating. Whatever hold Rakar had was breaking, but the damage was done. Luphar was no longer the guardian of the forest. He was just a shell of his former self.

“You’ve only delayed the inevitable,” Rakar’s voice hissed through the clearing, the menace behind it palpable. “The seed is just the beginning. Soon, all will bend to my will.”

Apophis clenched his fists, fury boiling inside him. “What are you planning, Rakar? What do you want?”

There was a sinister chuckle, but no answer. The voice faded, leaving the forest in an unsettling silence.

Luphar collapsed fully, breathing heavily but no longer moving with aggression. The battle was over, but it was clear that they had only scratched the surface of Rakar’s true scheme.

Cyrus, still panting from the fight, spat on the ground. “Fuck, I hate when they do the creepy voice thing.”

Finn, ever the tactician, knelt beside Luphar. “We need to get more information. This seed he mentioned—it’s important. Whatever Rakar is planning, it’s tied to that.”

Apophis nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. Rakar was no ordinary foe, and this forest—this world—was far more complicated than he had imagined.

As the group gathered themselves, Apophis couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. Rakar was still out there, pulling strings, corrupting anyone who stood in his way. And the seeds of his dark power were already taking root.

But now, they had a clue—a dark seed that twisted its victims into monsters. And somewhere, Rakar was waiting, watching, preparing for whatever his next move would be.