I don't own IS or Space Sheriff Gavan. They belong to their respective owner
Ch- 01 (A fateful encounter from star)
The vast expanse of space stretched infinitely in every direction, cold and unyielding, punctuated only by the distant glow of stars. A sleek, silver spacecraft carved its way through the void at blistering speed, leaving a streak of crimson energy in its wake. Inside the cockpit, the low hum of the ship's systems blended with the rhythmic beeping of monitors, each displaying critical data about the ship's status and trajectory.
In the pilot's chair sat a man clad in polished silver armor. His helmet, resting on a nearby console, revealed a sharp, determined face framed by a few strands of dark hair. Gavan's gaze remained fixed on the controls until the comm system crackled to life. A small LCD screen flickered on, revealing the stern face of a bearded man.
"Gavan," the man said, his voice steady but weighted with urgency.
"This is Gavan, roger," Gavan replied, his hands moving deftly over the console to stabilize the transmission.
"I have an update for you," the man continued. "Our intelligence has confirmed that one of our rogue sheriffs, Hunter—better known as Mercury Black—has defected to Makuu."
"What?!" Gavan's eyes widened, his fingers tightening around the armrests.
"Yes. And he's en route to Earth as we speak. This could escalate quickly, so proceed with caution," the man, Commander Ironwood, warned, his tone grave.
"Understood, Commander," Gavan replied, forcing a calm tone despite the tension simmering within him.
Before Gavan could process the information, a sudden explosion rocked the ship. The cockpit lights flickered as warning sirens blared. Gavan instinctively gripped the controls as a bright flash illuminated the screens. A laser beam had struck the starboard side of the ship. The onboard diagnostics lit up in red while a synthetic voice delivered its report:
"Warning: Starboard hull integrity compromised."
"What the…" Gavan muttered, glancing at the radar. Three green ships had appeared, rapidly closing the distance. Their sleek, predatory designs gleamed under the starlight, and their charging cannons signalled their hostile intent.
"Damn it," Gavan hissed, jerking the control stick sharply to the left. The ship groaned but evaded another blast. Gavan's fingers flew across the console as he attempted to outmaneuver his pursuers.
"Gavan! Gavan! Report! What's happening?" Commander Ironwood's voice broke through the comm, sharp with concern.
"Sir, I'm under attack!" Gavan shouted; his voice strained as the ship swerved to avoid a barrage of enemy fire. "Makuu must have anticipated my arrival. They're trying to take me out!"
"Gavan, wait! C—" The transmission abruptly cut off as another explosion rocked the ship, plunging the comm screen into darkness.
"Warning: Communication link lost," the ship's AI announced.
Ignoring the disruption, Gavan's hands flew over the controls. "Engage warp travel!" he commanded, his voice tight with urgency.
"Acknowledged. Warp drive charging: 10%, 30%, 60%…"
The enemy ships pressed closer, their glowing cannons preparing another salvo. Gavan gritted his teeth, steering his ship through a chaotic web of laser fire. Sparks erupted in the cockpit as a grazing shot scorched the hull.
"Hull breach detected. Emergency protocols initiated."
"Come on, come on!" Gavan growled, his eyes darting to the warp drive indicator.
"Warp drive fully charged."
"Activate warp now!" he barked.
A surge of silver energy enveloped the ship, and in an instant, it accelerated beyond the speed of light. The pursuing ships were left far behind, their forms swallowed by the endless void. Inside the cockpit, the alarms fell silent, and the glow of the monitors stabilized.
"Warp complete. Destination: Earth 2" the AI reported, its calm tone a stark contrast to the chaos moments earlier.
Gavan leaned back in his seat, exhaling a long breath as his heart began to steady. But his mind remained restless. Mercury Black's betrayal and Makuu's growing aggression weighed heavily on him. Earth was in danger, and the battle had only just begun.
*Earth 2, Japan*
Ichika Orimura, a boy at the age of 14 walking on his way to home from his school carrying a paper in his hand. It is his report card of today test.
He scored 75 out of 100.
His face was still down like his shoulder hunched forward as he keeps looking at his test result
"Yo Ichika"
Dan Gotanda, a boy with scarlet hair with a cheerful smile run toward him carrying his own class test result.
Dan is Ichika best friend and his first friend he makes in him middle school. Dan is the most cheerful guy he met in his life, he's fun, strong and athletic.
Dan always there for Ichika whenever he needs him.
"Hey Dan" Ichika replied
"Behold" Dan says in majestic tone as he presents his paper to Ichika "My score, Buddy"
It was 65 out of 100
"Finally," Dan said "A passing grade which I achieved without cheating. Mom would be so happy"
Ichika smiles softly from Dan reaction. Dan is a very simple guy, but his simplicity is what makes him a good friend.
Dan notice Ichika somber expression, as he looked at his expression.
"Hey, what happen" Dan asks as he took a peek at Ichika paper "Dude you got 75! That's way better than me. Why do you look like you failed or something" Dan asked curiously.
Ichika sigh as he replies "It's not bad, But I wanted at least 90 this time"
"Damm" Dan said, he put his arm around Ichika shoulder
And pull him into a chokehold
"Look at you go, Mr. perfectionist" Dan says playfully while putting a bit pressure on him
"AHH, Dan Stop" Ichika commands
After few seconds Dan release his chokehold as he moves his arm from his neck to his shoulder
"Don't worry, Dude" Dan says "It doesn't matter if you couldn't score 90 but still 75 is a win and win should be celebrated, not thinking about what could have been"
A faint smile appears on Ichika face
"Say" Dan continue "For today celebration, let's have some ramen, Come on Ichika. It's on me"
*Neo Solar system*
A crimson beam pierced the vast expanse of space, cutting through the void as it passed a glowing red planet in the distance. Inside the cockpit of his sleek vessel, Gavan maintained his composure, his hands steady on the controls despite the dire circumstances. Outside, golden-brown laser beams seared past his ship, the residual energy rippling across his rapidly depleting shield system. The holographic display projected the ominous statistic: Shield Integrity: 42%.
"This won't hold much longer," Gavan thought, his mind calculating potential strategies with clinical precision. He recognized the urgency—hesitation now could prove fatal.
Swiftly, he began inputting commands into the console:
Warp drive deactivated...
Sonic thrusters engaged...
Auto-pilot activated...
Estimated arrival at Earth 2: - 15 minutes.
"Fifteen minutes," he murmured, his tone resolute as he rose from the pilot's chair. There was no margin for error.
Outside, three enemy Makuu vessels were in relentless pursuit, their intentions unmistakable. The enemy pilots, confident in their numerical and technological superiority, viewed Gavan's craft as an unarmed transport ship—a mere courier ill-equipped for combat. To them, this was an inevitable kill.
They underestimated their quarry.
As ship continued its trajectory, the upper hull opened, revealing a concealed platform that elevated smoothly into place. Standing atop it was Gavan, his silver armor glinting against the starlight, a sword sheathed at his side. His bearing was unyielding, exuding authority and determination. The first Makuu pilot, eager to neutralize the threat, fired a precise laser beam aimed directly at him.
It missed.
The pilot's astonishment was immediate and palpable. His aim had been flawless, yet the silver-clad figure had evaded the strike with a subtle tilt of his head, as though anticipating the attack before it even occurred.
Without hesitation, Gavan raised his right arm, aiming directly at the offending ship. His voice carried a weight of finality:
"Gavan Beam."
A brilliant sapphire energy beam erupted from his arm, surging toward the enemy craft with unerring accuracy. The impact was instantaneous and absolute:
Boom.
The Makuu vessel disintegrated into a cloud of debris, obliterated by the single, devastating strike.
The second pilot, witnessing the destruction of his comrade's ship, hesitated, his confidence faltering. A lone individual had annihilated a Makuu battleship without the use of conventional weaponry. His shock, however, was short-lived as Gavan's gaze shifted toward him. The silver warrior's presence was almost tangible, radiating an aura of resolve that penetrated even the cold confines of space. Though separated by the vacuum, the pilot felt the weight of Gavan's silent judgment, a chilling reminder of his own mortality.
Desperation took hold. The pilot unleashed a barrage of laser fire, each shot aimed with precision. Yet, Gavan remained unfazed. Drawing his blade in a fluid motion, he deflected the incoming lasers with practiced ease, the sword moving faster than the eye could follow. For seven minutes, the exchange continued—the pilot firing relentlessly, and Gavan countering each attack with unwavering precision.
The second pilot's fear grew with every failed attempt. His hands trembled as he realized the futility of his assault. Meanwhile, Gavan, tiring of the game, prepared to end the engagement. Raising his arm once more, he took aim at the ship.
"Gavan Z Beam."
A blinding white beam erupted from his hand, striking the enemy vessel. The resulting explosion scattered the ship's remains into the void, marking the end of the second threat.
The third pilot, observing the annihilation of his allies, hesitated, paralyzed by indecision.
Stories of the silver warrior had circulated within Makuu—whispers of an indomitable force of justice.
"When you encounter a meteor belt, proceed with caution.
When faced with a cosmic storm, fortify your shields and endure.
But when you cross paths with the silver warrior, your fate is sealed."
The pilot now understood the truth behind the legends. Gavan was no mere man; he was an avatar of justice, a protector of peace, and an executioner of the wicked. To challenge him was to invite certain destruction.
Desperation overtook reason. The third pilot turned his craft, attempting to flee. Yet even as he did, he knew escape was impossible. The silver warrior did not grant mercy to those who brought harm.
Gavan stood resolute on the platform, his armor reflecting the dim light of distant stars. In the silent void, he was an unyielding beacon of justice, a force unshaken by the chaos around him.
His name was Gavan.
SPACE SHERIFF GAVAN.
Dark dimension
A world drowned in negative reality—where darkness twisted and pulsed like a living thing, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with unseen horrors. In the void above, a colossal tri-faced warship hovered like a god of death, its surface writhing with eerie energy. Surrounding it, swarms of black aircraft circled endlessly, their movements precise, obedient… insignificant before the will that ruled them all.
Deep within, the corridors stretched narrow and suffocating, their towering ceilings amplifying the crushing weight of the ship's oppressive design. A squad of monstrous creatures marched in lockstep, their grotesque forms shifting in the dim glow. At their head strode a lone figure—tall, clad in a sharp black uniform, silver hair shimmering like liquid metal. His face was concealed behind a smooth white mask, devoid of expression, a void of emotion more unsettling than any snarl or scowl.
The squad reached a massive sliding door. It parted with a hiss, revealing the heart of the ship.
The command chamber was vast—like an ancient throne room sculpted from nightmares. The walls pulsed as if alive, their shifting textures whispering unintelligible horrors. The air was thick, suffused with an unnatural weight that made breathing a laborious effort. And at its center, the throne loomed—a monstrous construct forged from obsidian darkness, jagged and endless.
Enthroned upon it sat a figure of pure white, too large, too still—an entity of sheer presence rather than mere flesh. Lord Don Horror.
Mercury knelt. The creatures behind him did not hesitate; they collapsed to their knees as if an unseen hand had forced them down, trembling before their god.
"Lord Don Horror," Mercury spoke, his voice even, but his breath sharp.
Two golden lights flared in the abyss—eyes, hollow and ancient, filled with nothing but the inevitability of destruction.
"What is the status, Mercury?"
The name felt like a brand upon his soul. Mercury raised his head only slightly, enough to respond but not enough to challenge the presence before him.
"My lord… the news is dire. Arc has reached Earth."
A deep, resonant crack shattered the silence. Mercury did not flinch, but the creatures behind him recoiled in fear as they saw the cause—the throne itself had splintered under Don Horror's grip.
Silence. A silence deeper than death itself.
"We deployed three Space Wreckers to intercept him," Mercury continued, carefully choosing his words. "He destroyed them—alone."
The air itself screamed.
A crushing, formless force exploded outward from the throne, a wave of pure malice given shape. The creatures howled in agony as they were lifted from the ground and flung backward, smashing against the walls. The sound of breaking bones echoed through the chamber, their shrieks dissolving into painful gurgles.
Yet Mercury did not move. His boots skidded slightly against the floor, his muscles screamed in protest, but he endured. He had no choice. To fall was to die.
The force dissipated as suddenly as it came. The walls themselves seemed to groan, relieved to be released from their master's wrath. The creatures behind Mercury lay in broken heaps, twitching, barely conscious.
Mercury exhaled. Slowly. Carefully.
Don Horror's golden eyes blazed.
"Damn that Space Sheriff Gavan…"
A low, unnatural rumble followed—a soundless growl that sent fresh waves of fear through the already broken creatures.
Then, silence again.
"Mercury."
He immediately straightened. "My lord."
A pause. The room itself seemed to shrink as Don Horror spoke.
"Send in the Double-Man."
Mercury bowed his head. "As you command."
And though his heart remained steady, his mind knew one thing—the true terror of Don Horror was only beginning.
After destroying last space fighter, Gavan went back to the cockpit.
A sliver shine covers his body, The silver Armor vanished revealing a light grey uniform wearing man with blonde hair, fair face and skin colour.
He checks the status on screen
Shield Integrity: 35%
Earth 2 distance: 02 minutes left
Then suddenly
'SHEW…. BOOM~'
Shield Integrity: 05%
"AAAAAHHHHH"
The ship descends toward the Planet Earth-02 in speed
Earth-02, Japan Kawasaki ward
Ichika walks on his way after having ramen with his friend still thinking his word he said.
'Next time, I will get 90' Ichika thought
He looks toward the sky, se the shining bright star in the sky, but then he notices
'A shooting star'
A big shining blue shooting star falling from the sky, and it was getting bigger by every second
Ichika stares at its beauty for second until he also realised the same thing.
The star was following toward his direction.
"No way" Ichika said in disbelief
Suddenly the star changes it direction a bit in the air and descend toward the mountain area
The stars blurred into streaks as Gavan gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he yanked the lever with all his might. Alarms blared in his ears—a cacophony of dire warnings and failing systems. The secondary engine was shot, leaving him with only the primary to manually fight the gravitational pull of the planet below. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging as he focused on stabilizing the ship.
"DANG IT!" he cursed, the ship groaning under the strain.
The craft spiralled wildly toward the mountainside. At the last moment, Gavan managed to pull out of the chaotic descent, guiding the ship toward the rugged terrain. It slammed into the earth, the impact tearing through the quiet night like thunder.
Smoke and steam hissed from the broken hull. Gavan stumbled out of the ship, his uniform dishevelled, his white helmet with yellow stripes smeared with dust and debris. Blood seeped from a gash on his right leg, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through him. He limped out, scanning his surroundings—a dense forest at the base of looming mountains, eerily quiet except for the crackling of fire from his wrecked craft.
He looked back at the ship briefly, the dark thought of his survival chances pressing down on him. But then something caught his attention—a faint shimmer, almost like an unnatural distortion in the air. He shook his head, attributing it to his disorientation, and pressed on.
Unbeknownst to Gavan, his crash had drawn attention. Far below, Ichika trudged up the mountain following the trail of shooting stars, unknowingly headed toward the same site. As Gavan limped further away from the ship, his mind preoccupied with assessing his injuries and surroundings, he failed to notice the dark figure slipping out from the smoke of the crash—the one whose jagged skin gleamed ominously under the light of the distant stars.
The alien, the nightmare, had arrived.
Gavan's survival instincts kicked in as he heard an unnatural clicking noise behind him, sharp and rhythmic. He turned sharply, but his pain slowed him, and the figure disappeared into the shadows before he could fully comprehend what he saw. Limping away to seek cover, he knew he'd have to summon every ounce of wit and resilience he had left to survive whatever awaited him here.
Meanwhile, Ichika reached the mountain peak just in time to glimpse Gavan's limp form disappearing behind a tree. The metallic sheen of the crashed spaceship chilled Ichika to the core. And then, just moments later, the nightmare humanoid emerged from the shadows.
Ichika knew it was a bad idea. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, but the trail of shooting stars seemed to pull him forward, like a thread he couldn't untangle. The mountain loomed ahead, its jagged silhouette cutting into the night sky. When he finally reached the peak, his breath caught in his throat.
It wasn't a meteorite. It was a ship—a sleek, alien vessel that looked like it had been plucked from the void of space and hurled into the earth. Its surface shimmered unnaturally, reflecting the moonlight in ways that made it hard to focus on. Smoke curled from its battered hull, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burning metal.
Ichika ducked behind a tree, his heart pounding. The ship's door creaked open with a sound that made his skin crawl, like nails on a chalkboard. A figure emerged, limping and clutching its side. It wore a uniform, its white helmet streaked with dirt and blood. Ichika's eyes widened as he noticed the deep crimson staining the figure's right leg. It wasn't an alien—it was human. Or at least, it looked human.
The man—if he was a man—staggered forward, scanning the area with a wary intensity. Ichika stayed frozen, his breath shallow, as he watched the stranger limp away from the ship. But then, something shifted. The air grew heavy, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
And then it happened.
An explosion tore through the ground where the man had been standing moments before. The force of it sent debris flying, and Ichika had to shield his face from the sudden burst of heat. When the smoke cleared, his blood ran cold.
A figure emerged from the haze, tall and grotesque. It was humanoid, but only in the vaguest sense. Its body was a twisted amalgamation of jagged edges and asymmetrical limbs, as though it had been sculpted by a madman. Its skin shimmered with an unnatural sheen, part metallic, part reptilian, and it seemed to ripple as though alive.
But it was the face that truly horrified him. The creature's oversized, glowing yellow eyes locked onto Ichika's, and he felt as though they were peeling back the layers of his soul. Its expression was frozen in a grotesque snarl, a mockery of anything human. The elongated limbs moved with a predatory grace, each step deliberate and menacing.
Ichika couldn't move. His body refused to obey him, paralyzed by the sheer terror of the thing before him. The creature tilted its head, as if studying him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, without warning, the creature stepped aside. A flash of blue light streaked through the air—a sapphire blade, sharp and radiant, carving through the space where the monster had stood. The ground split apart, the force of the strike sending shockwaves through the earth.
Ichika's heart thundered in his chest as he realized what was happening. This wasn't just a chance encounter. This was a battle—a clash between nightmares—and he was caught in the middle of it.
The air crackled with tension as Gavan, the silver warrior, raised his gleaming sapphire blade. Every movement was a testament to his battered state—the limp in his stride, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of pain. But his resolve burned brighter than the stars above.
Without hesitation, Gavan lunged forward, the blade slicing through the darkness as he aimed for the alien's grotesque frame. The weapon sang through the air—a flash of brilliance against the monster's warped form. But the alien was fast. Unnaturally fast. It twisted and jerked out of harm's way, its movements fluid yet unnerving, like liquid metal shifting mid-motion.
The alien retaliated with a swipe of its elongated limb, razor-sharp edges whistling as they cut through the air toward Gavan. He barely managed to duck, the strike grazing his helmet and sending a screeching noise reverberating in his ears. He countered with another swing of his sword, his footing faltering from the pain in his leg. His movements were slower than they should have been, each strike hindered by his injuries, but his determination was unyielding.
The alien dodged again; its glowing yellow eyes fixated on him like a predator toying with prey. It moved in closer, forcing Gavan to stumble backward to avoid its grasp. With every strike Gavan unleashed, the alien seemed to grow bolder, its twisted face contorting into a sneer as it narrowly evaded the sapphire blade.
Gavan gritted his teeth and summoned every ounce of strength he had left. With a desperate cry, he swung the sword in a wide arc, the blade leaving a trail of sapphire light in its wake. The alien evaded with an impossible leap, its jagged limbs landing in an unsettling crouch just inches away. It lashed out, its razor-like claws carving through the dirt as Gavan threw himself to the side, landing heavily on his injured leg. Pain flared, sharp and blinding, forcing him to stifle a cry.
The alien seized the opportunity. It lunged forward; its movements so grotesquely swift that Gavan barely had time to raise his sword in defences. The blade caught one of the alien's limbs, slicing into its metallic-reptilian surface. The creature hissed—an ear-piercing, guttural sound that vibrated through the ground—but it hardly faltered. Instead, its yellow eyes burned brighter with rage.
Gavan's breathing grew ragged, sweat dripping into his vision. His strikes became more erratic, each one harder to muster than the last. The alien's counters grew crueller, its attacks calculated to wear him down. A swipe of its claw tore into Gavan's shoulder, the force sending him staggering. Blood trickled down his arm, mixing with the dirt and sweat of battle.
The alien advanced, towering over him now. Its distorted frame seemed to ripple with malice, its twisted snarl promising nothing but annihilation. Gavan struggled to rise, his leg trembling under his weight. The sapphire sword trembled in his grip, its light flickering as though mirroring his fading strength.
But Gavan wasn't ready to give up—not yet. He steadied his grip on the blade, his eyes locked onto the alien with an unyielding glare. The nightmare wasn't going to win. Not while there was even a shred of fight left in him.
The battle raged on, a clash of wills—a silver warrior against the towering shadow of despair.
The alien's jagged claws clashed against Gavan's gauntleted hands, locking them in a brutal test of strength. Sparks flew as the metallic-reptilian monster pushed forward, its grotesque frame rippling with unnatural power. Gavan gritted his teeth, every muscle in his battered body screaming under the strain. His sapphire blade lay far out of reach, buried in the dirt where it had been flung moments earlier, leaving him defenceless against the towering nightmare.
From the shadows, Ichika watched in terrified silence, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to run, to flee this waking nightmare. But as he saw Gavan's trembling arms faltering under the alien's crushing strength, something stirred within him. A spark of courage. No—of defiance.
For a moment, everything else faded, and Ichika's mind was transported elsewhere—to a memory, hazy yet vivid. He was back with his friends, sitting under the sprawling branches of the old oak tree near his village. They had been talking about bravery, about facing the unknown. He remembered the words of his best friend, Dan Gotanda—a fiery soul, always urging him to stand up for himself.
"Fear's a liar, Ichika," Dan Gotanda had said, leaning forward, his eyes fierce with conviction. "It wants you to believe you're powerless, but you're not. You just have to act. Even if your hands shake, even if your knees buckle—just act. That's what courage is."
Ichika had laughed nervously back then, brushing off Dan Gotanda's words as something he'd never live up to. But now, standing in the shadows of the nightmare, those words rang louder than ever. He clenched his fists, his breath shaky but resolute. Dan Gotanda was right. Fear was a liar. And he would prove it wrong.
Ichika's eyes locked onto the sapphire blade gleaming faintly in the dirt. It seemed to call to him, its radiant glow a beacon of hope in the oppressive darkness. Taking slow, shaky steps, Ichika moved toward the sword, the weight of his fear pressing down on him with every step. The alien was entirely focused on Gavan, giving Ichika a narrow window of opportunity.
Summoning every ounce of bravery he didn't know he had, Ichika grasped the hilt of the sword. Its light flared brilliantly, casting eerie shadows across the ground. The weapon felt heavy in his hands, almost alive, pulsing with a strange energy. He raised it high, his grip tightening as he stared at the alien's grotesque back.
With a desperate cry, Ichika swung the blade down, the sapphire edge slicing cleanly into the monster's flesh. The alien let out a deafening, guttural screech, its body convulsing violently as it staggered forward. The attack didn't kill it, but it was enough to break its focus on Gavan.
The alien staggered forward from Ichika's strike, its twisted frame convulsing as it reeled from the unexpected attack. Its guttural screech echoed across the mountainside, a sound so piercing it made the air seem heavier. For the first time, the nightmare faltered—its glowing yellow eyes shifting from fury to confusion as it turned its head to glare at Ichika.
Gavan didn't waste a moment.
The silver warrior surged forward, every ounce of pain in his battered body drowned out by sheer determination. His grip tightened around the sapphire blade, its luminescence flaring as though sensing its wielder's resolve. With a roar of defiance, Gavan raised the sword high and swung it with precision toward the creature's exposed side.
The blade sliced through the alien's metallic-reptilian skin, leaving a trail of searing blue light in its wake. The monster shrieked again, its grotesque limbs flailing as it stumbled backward. The force of Gavan's strike knocked it off balance, sending shards of its unnaturally glimmering flesh scattering across the ground.
Ichika watched in awe, his heart racing as the tables began to turn. The alien's movements grew frantic, its jagged edges shifting erratically as though struggling to maintain its nightmarish form. Gavan pressed his advantage, his sword cutting through the air with a deadly grace. Each strike forced the creature to retreat further, its eerie yellow eyes flickering with a strange intensity.
But the alien wasn't finished yet. It retaliated, lunging forward with one of its elongated limbs aimed directly at Gavan's chest. The silver warrior narrowly dodged, twisting his body despite the sharp pain radiating from his injured leg. The alien's claws grazed his armor, leaving deep scratches that glinted in the moonlight.
Gavan countered with a swift upward slash, the blade catching the creature's distorted face. The sapphire edge carved a glowing line across its grotesque features, eliciting another ear-splitting screech. The alien staggered, its once-predatory gait now faltering as it struggled to keep up with the relentless assault.
Ichika felt his fear melting away, replaced by something far more powerful—a spark of hope. He clutched at his side, breathing hard, but his eyes never left the battle unfolding before him. Gavan, the injured silver warrior, was proving that even against nightmares, defiance could still shine.
The fight wasn't over yet. But for the first time, the alien looked vulnerable.
This was the moment—the opening Gavan had fought tooth and nail to create. The alien stumbled, its grotesque frame flickering with unsteady movements, its distorted face twisted in confusion. Blood trickled down Gavan's battered body, but he refused to falter. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sapphire blade, its light pulsating brighter and brighter, until it was almost blinding.
Gavan raised the blade high above his head, its glowing edge piercing through the smoky air like a beacon of resolve. The sapphire light intensified, shifting into an incandescent white, illuminating the battlefield with an almost celestial brilliance. The alien hesitated, its yellow eyes narrowing as if sensing what was to come.
"Gavan Dynamic!" The silver warrior's voice thundered across the mountainside, shaking the very earth beneath them. His cry wasn't just a declaration—it was a culmination of every ounce of willpower he had left.
With a roar of defiance, Gavan brought the blade down in a devastating arc. The weapon cut through the air like lightning, its radiant energy crackling and singing as it descended toward the nightmare before him. The alien barely had time to react before the blade struck true, cleaving its grotesque form from the top of its twisted head to the very base of its warped frame.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The alien let out one final, ear-splitting screech as the sapphire energy surged through its jagged body, tearing it apart with a brilliance that cast dancing shadows across the terrain. Its halves collapsed to the ground in sickening silence, the metallic-reptilian flesh smouldering where the blade had struck.
The mountain fell quiet, save for the soft hum of the blade as its light dimmed, returning to its original sapphire glow. Gavan stood still, the sword in his trembling grip, his breath ragged but victorious. Behind him, Ichika stared in stunned silence, the weight of what had just transpired pressing down on him like a waking dream.
The nightmare was over.
To be continued
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