CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

Scene: Golden Guillotine – The Fall of Shojiro Momo

Sand howled through the chamber, blinding the team.

Zans tried to cut a path through the storm with sweeping claws of shadow.

Karl launched tracer drones, locking onto Saria's scattered energy signature.

Max summoned arcs of black lightning, discharging them into the air, hoping to force the sand to solidify.

"SHOJIRO!" Max shouted. "BACK UP! WE GOT YOU!"

But it was already too late.

The storm cleared—

And there she was.

Saria. Standing behind him.

Both hands gently pressed against the sides of his head.

Shojiro froze.

Eyes wide.

Veins flashing gold from the neck upward.

The curse was spreading instantly.

Not slow.

Not survivable.

Saria whispered:

"Let me see what Chosen courage looks like… when it's helpless."

Shojiro's muscles snapped, trying to resist.

His arms moved to grab his own head—not to protect it, but to rip it off.

He'd done it with his arms twice before.

He could do it again.

He had to.

He had to—

CRACK.

His hands gripped.

He twisted.

The neck began to break.

The curse raced faster.

Gold surged up his throat.

Over his lips.

Into his eyes.

Zans shouted:

"SHOJIRO!!"

Karl screamed:

"HE'S FROZEN MID-MOTION—!"

Max fired Indra's Arrow—

Too late.

Shojiro's body went still.

Half-twisted.

Half-defiant.

Both hands still gripping his head in the act of saving himself.

His face frozen in a silent roar.

Gold. Solid. Final.

Saria stepped back, brushing her hands together like dusting off a trophy.

"And that makes four."

"Strongest musclehead…

Turned statue with a thought."

She turned toward the remaining three:

Max, Karl, Zans.

Her smile widened.

"So—who wants to be next?"

Scene: The Fall of Zans & Kuro — A Shadow's Final Reach

The pyramid trembled under the storm of sand and lightning.

Four of the Chosen had already fallen—each frozen in gold:

Shojiro. Leone. Morgz. Enme.

The heart of the team… silenced.

Only three remained—and one of them had finally snapped.

Zans stood at the edge of the cracked chamber, cloaked in absolute darkness. His body no longer resembled the quiet, lean assassin they'd known. No—this was his Nightmare Leech Mode in full bloom.

His skin had blackened to an abyssal sheen, veins glowing red like cracked magma. Shadow tendrils extended from his spine—writhing, twitching—alive.

The room itself began to dim, the torchlight bending and shrinking as if afraid of him.

Then, she appeared beside him.

Kuro.

A feminine shape, forged entirely from shadow and thought—her form sleek, graceful, a tattered cloak hanging around a body made of shimmering dusk.

Her hair waved in an unseen wind. Her red eyes burned like twin moons.

She smiled at him.

Kuro (playfully): "So… finally done brooding?"

Zans (quietly): "They took Shojiro."

"They took everyone."

Kuro: "Then we take her apart."

He didn't nod. He didn't need to.

Their sync was perfect.

Round 2: Shadow vs Sand

Saria, still cracked and leaking golden VYTHRA, floated above the crater floor.

"So the little boy brought his imaginary girlfriend to the battlefield."

She raised her arms—sand whirling into jagged scythes, lions, wings of jagged glass-like dust.

"Let's bury your delusion in gold."

But they weren't bluffing.

Zans and Kuro exploded into motion, faster than sight.

Zans blinked from shadow to shadow, striking at weak points—every hit siphoning bits of her VYTHRA and slowing her regeneration.

Kuro moved like smoke, intercepting Saria's strikes before they reached Zans—her claws splitting sand into harmless dust.

They fought as one—attack and defense, blade and shield.

Golden explosions lit the pyramid with every clash.

And slowly… Saria began to lose ground.

She hissed as shadow burned into her palm.

She screamed as Zans pierced her side with a leeching spear.

She gasped when Kuro cut her ankle mid-leap.

Saria staggered.

Fell to one knee.

Gasping, golden blood dripping from her mouth.

Zans: "It's over."

Kuro: "This is what you get for underestimating imagination."

Xans turned his back.

He didn't look proud.

He just looked… tired.

"Max. You're up."

And in that moment—

In that fatal, flickering breath of relief—

She struck.

Saria (whispering):

"Never…

turn your back on a curse."

A single grain of sand, glowing gold with malicious VYTHRA, rose behind him—

And tapped the nape of Zans' neck.

Zans froze.

His spine arched.

His shoulder locked.

He felt it instantly.

The weight.

The numbness.

The crawling heat of gold.

"No. No no no—!"

His arms surged forward, trying to rip the curse out of his neck like Shojiro had tried.

But it was too late.

The gold raced across his jaw, eyes, down his chest—

And then—

"ZANS!"

Kuro reached out to grab him—

"DON'T TOUCH ME—!!"

Too late.

Their hands met—

And the curse leapt.

Like lightning jumping from rod to rod.

Kuro gasped.

Her chest seized.

Gold burst across her collarbones and face. Her hair turned to flakes of glittering bronze. Her clawed fingers fused into polished obsidian.

Zans' mouth moved—but he couldn't speak.

Only a pained breath left his lips.

"No…"

They looked at each other. Inches apart.

She tried to say something. Her mouth trembled.

But the gold spread faster now.

She fell forward into his arms.

Their shadows fused into one—

And then—

CRACK.

The two froze, entwined in mid-motion.

Zans, holding her like the boy he once was.

Kuro, one hand on his cheek, her smile frozen in fading trust.

A pair of statues.

Locked together.

Forever.

Saria stood up, her ribs shattered, but her grin returning.

"That makes six."

"Your shadows were lovely."

"But shadows don't survive in tombs."

Only Max and Karl remained.

Scene: The Last Protocol — Karl's Nanite Storm

Smoke curled from the cracked tiles of the ancient chamber.

Seven statues now stood—each once a warrior, a friend, a legend.

Leone, frozen mid-scream.

Morgz, shielding her with outstretched arms.

Enme, a glimmer of green still locked in her golden eyes.

Shojiro, mid-rip, a symbol of resistance.

Zans and Kuro, forever reaching.

Karl…

Not yet.

Karl stood in the eye of the silence, visor cracked, skin pale, lips dry.

Max was at his side.

The last two.

Karl (quietly): "This is checkmate… unless I flip the board."

Max glanced at him, confused. "What are you—?"

Karl reached for his spine.

"Code: Final Dispersal Protocol—Epsilon Omega Zero."

"It's all or nothing now."

And then—he disappeared.

His entire body burst into nanites, vaporized into a black storm.

It spun around Max once—a farewell caress—before roaring into the sky like a living typhoon of metal and code.

The pyramid trembled.

Saria shielded her face, sand rising to counter.

But it wasn't enough.

The Nanite Storm struck.

Shards shaped into swords, axes, spears mid-air.

Barrages of railgun needles exploded from the storm edge.

Blades sliced sand in clean lines, spinning and shattering her constructs.

Karl was everywhere—a ghost inside a cloud of living death.

Saria screamed, sand limbs exploding off her frame. "YOU THINK THIS WILL STOP ME?!"

Karl's voice, disembodied:

"No.

I think it'll slow you long enough to finish this."

From the eye of the storm, a bright red condensed beam fired—ripping through the room with surgical precision.

BOOM.

It hit Saria mid-transformation.

And the part it struck?

Didn't turn to sand.

It turned to glass.

Her torso shimmered, cracked, hardened.

Saria gasped.

"Wh-What is this…!?"

Karl: "I changed the sand's molecular lattice.

That's not VYTHRA anymore."

"That's a mirror for your arrogance."

He prepared to fire again.

The nanites reformed into heavy cannons midair. Energy charged.

Victory was seconds away.

But then—

Karl hesitated.

Wait… something's wrong.

Saria wasn't flinching.

She was smiling.

"Took you long enough to notice."

Karl zoomed in with scattered eye drones.

Her golden armor—was gone.

Gone the moment she turned into sand.

Realization dawned.

Karl (whispering): "No…"

Too late.

The Nanite swarm paused for 0.6 seconds to complete weapon conversion.

And in that flicker—

Gold bloomed.

From the center of the cloud, a seed of cursed armor exploded outward—coating every nanite at once.

The same gold Saria wore.

"I told you…"

"You can't kill a curse."

The entire Nanite Storm crystallized.

Billions of particles.

All turned to polished, frozen gold.

They dropped from the air like glittering ash.

And within the raining storm of gold—

A single core, still flickering red.

Karl's brain-core.

It blinked once.

Twice.

Then—

"Max… don't forgive me."

Ping.

Blackout.

The final shard turned gold.

And Karl was gone.

Saria stood, wounded, panting, but alive.

Glass cracked off her chest.

She looked around.

All the Chosen—fallen.

Statues. Remnants. Echoes.

Only one remained.

She turned to him.

The lightning in the corner.

Eyes blazing.

Hair crackling.

Jacket shredded by grief.

Saria: "Looks like you're the last one."

"Let's see if your storm… is stronger than mine."

And then Max looked up.

And he smiled.

Max:

"No more jokes."

"No more team."

"Just me."

"And may god help you."