The Guardian gods-Chapter 234

He touches the wound, and as he does, he mimics the face and abilities of the Outcast, shrouding himself in shadows. But this mimicry is imperfect. The Seeker, though hidden, cannot fully grasp the essence of disgrace and anonymity. The true Outcast uses this moment to project Whispers of Scorn, filling the Seeker’s mind with haunting, disorienting voices.

The Seeker, momentarily disoriented, lashes out wildly, his Stolen Spotlight ability activating. He reaches for the Outcast, aiming to drain his strength. The Outcast dodges, but not entirely. The Seeker’s fingers brush his arm, and he feels a surge of power, but also the crushing weight of disgrace.

The Outcast, weakened but undeterred, retaliates with Aura of Disgrace, enveloping the Seeker in a miasma of shame and self-doubt. The Seeker’s confidence wavers, his flamboyant facade flickering. He fights to maintain his composure, but the Outcast presses the advantage, launching a barrage of Phantom Strikes.

Blood splatters the stage as the Seeker is driven back, his defenses crumbling. Desperation fuels him, and he calls upon Stage Control, creating multiple illusions of himself. The theater fills with a dozen Seekers, all identical, all laughing mockingly.

The Outcast narrows his eyes, focusing on the faint, almost imperceptible differences. He strikes at one illusion after another, each dissipating into mist. But the true Seeker is nowhere to be found. Suddenly, a figure lunges from behind, and the Seeker’s claws rake across the Outcast’s back, tearing flesh and drawing a pained cry.

Both combatants close in, their illusions and shadows falling away as they engage in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The Seeker’s flamboyant attire is torn and bloodied, but he moves with surprising agility, each punch and kick a blur of speed and precision. The Outcast, though cloaked in shadows, counters with swift and powerful strikes, his movements silent and deadly.

The Seeker lands a powerful blow to the Outcast’s jaw, sending him staggering back. He follows up with a series of rapid punches, each one aimed to cripple and dominate. The Outcast absorbs the hits, his blurred face twisting in pain, but he doesn’t fall. Instead, he ducks under the Seeker’s next swing, driving his knee into the Seeker’s ribs with a sickening crunch.

The Seeker gasps for breath, the wind knocked out of him. The Outcast presses his advantage, grabbing the Seeker by the throat and slamming him into the ground. Dust and debris fly up from the impact, and the Seeker’s head snaps back, dazed. But with a sudden burst of energy, the Seeker twists, breaking free and flipping the Outcast over his shoulder.

The Seeker leaps onto the Outcast, his hands wrapping around his opponent’s neck, squeezing with all his might. The Outcast claws at the Seeker’s hands, his vision blurring further as the air is cut off. In a final, desperate move, the Outcast summons the last of his strength and drives his thumbs into the Seeker’s eyes.

The Seeker screams, releasing his grip and reeling back, clutching his face. Blood pours from his eyes, and he stumbles, half-blind and enraged. The Outcast rises, his own body battered and bruised, and with a primal roar, he charges.

Summoning all his remaining strength, the Outcast activates Eternal Exile, aiming to banish the Seeker to a realm of isolation. The Seeker, sensing the impending danger, tries to flee, but the shadows grasp at him, pulling him back.

With a final, desperate effort, the Seeker unleashes Chosen Facade, shifting into the form of the most resilient warrior he has ever encountered. His body bulks up, muscles rippling, and he breaks free of the shadows’ grasp. But the effort costs him dearly.

The Outcast, now grievously wounded, sees his chance. He launches himself at the Seeker, channeling all his pain and disgrace into one final, devastating Phantom Strike. The blow lands true, piercing the Seeker’s heart.

The Seeker’s form flickers, the illusions falling away, and he collapses to the stage, his flamboyant attire now soaked in blood. His face shifts one last time, settling into a look of pure, unadulterated fear.

The Outcast watches as life fades from the Seeker’s eyes. The theater falls silent once more, save for the heavy, labored breathing of the Shunned Outcast. He stands victorious, but at a great cost, his body battered and bloodied.

The Seeker of Fame lies still, his curse finally silenced. The Outcast, though victorious, knows that his battle is never truly over. He will always carry the weight of his curse with him, being embodiment of public disgrace.

The Outcast’s once entirely shadowy, cloaked form now gains a touch of the Seeker’s flamboyant essence, creating a disturbing blend of Flamboyance and darkness. The Outcast’s face remains blurred and constantly shifting, but now, amidst the anonymity, glimpses of famous faces flash briefly, as if the essence of those the Seeker mimicked still linger. This creates an unsettling effect, where his visage is never fully clear but occasionally recognizable for fleeting moments.

The dark cloak of the Outcast is now interwoven with shimmering, flamboyant fabrics. Threads of gold and vibrant colors snake through the blackness, catching the light in eerie, unpredictable patterns. The cloak flows more dramatically, almost theatrically, amplifying his movements with an unsettling grace.

His eyes, once hidden in the shadows, now glow with a haunting light. They shift colors, reflecting the moods and personas of those he has absorbed. They can be mesmerizing, drawing in the gaze of those who look into them, making it difficult to look away.

As he stood up the victor, the Light following the seeker turned to him instead declaring him as the winner. It was for a bleak moment but a flash of smile crossed the face of the outcast who has never known fame.

Ikenga snapped his finger as the stage disappeared, showing the forest once again, Pointing at Outcast, Ikenga said "Your moniker from now on will be "The Spotlight Phantom" A ghostly, ever-present figure that embodies the resentment towards those who seek or attain excessive fame, a ghostly figure that embodies both the pursuit of fame driven by pride and the envy it provokes"

Bowing his head, the phantom disappeared into the shadows. From the shadow reflection of Ikenga, the phantom face appeared there for a blick second but he made no move to come out instead he seems to have made his home on Ikenga’s shadow. Ikenga did not mind smiling.

Looking at the next two curses, one needed to be introduced as that was James whose story is already known. For his cursed resonance is the luxurious cursed figure.

The grotesque figure, known as Malcus, was once a prosperous merchant named Phineas Greaves. Born into a modest family, Phineas’s ambitions had always been far greater than his humble beginnings. Through cunning, shrewd business acumen, and a relentless drive, he amassed a fortune that elevated him to the upper echelons of society. However, his path to wealth was paved with deceit, exploitation, and betrayal. Phineas’s insatiable greed led him to ruin lives, break families, and destroy the livelihoods of countless individuals. His unquenchable thirst for gold and power made him a feared and loathed figure.

Phineas’s downfall began with a particularly vile transaction. He had discovered a plot of land rich with gold, owned by a small, thriving community. For the community, the gold was used to send their young ones out to apprentice in a well known city. This is all done in the hope that if one of the children makes it, their small community will grow into something bigger, this was an agreed dream of every adult in the community so they all work together for this goal. Using underhanded tactics, he seized the land, leaving the inhabitants destitute. This was the final straw for those who had suffered under his greed. Their collective resentment called upon the curse that inhabited Phineas.

Both curses, now stood facing each other. Embodiment of Wealth said to James witha smile "I am the embodiment of wealth, cursed to endure this agony. Yet, I do not see it as a curse but a testament to my ambition. Greed has driven me to acquire more, to reach for what others deem unattainable."

James the cursed Glutton growling, his stomach-mouth moving grotesquely "And yet, you are blind to the true curse it brings. I am the glutton, cursed with insatiable hunger. For me, it is not about choice but necessity. I consume because I must, my hunger driving me beyond reason."

Embodiment of Wealth bristled at the accusation, his form shimmering faintly as if wavering under an unseen pressure. "You speak as one who envies my wealth, yet fails to see the burden it carries. To be cursed with wealth is to be cursed with responsibility, with the weight of a world that clamors for what you possess."

The Cursed Glutton’s stomach-mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, a chilling echo of amusement. "Responsibility, perhaps, but also a blindness to the true cost of your obsession. Tell me, Wealth, when you look upon your treasures, do you see wealth, or do you see the chains that bind you?"