Thorne stood amidst the ruins of the reception hall, his body a blinding beacon of power. The aether coursing through him was alive, surging like a tempest barely contained within his mortal frame. His eyes glowed an intense, otherworldly silver, brighter than the moonlight pouring through the broken roof. Aether arcs danced along his limbs, crackling with raw energy, and with every breath he took, the air around him vibrated with tension. He was no longer the boy Uncle had tormented and molded. He was something else now, something far more dangerous.

Uncle stood across from him, his body hulking with berserk fury, his red aura pulsing like a second heartbeat. His flesh was a grotesque patchwork of charred skin and regenerated muscle, dripping with molten blood, and his teeth were bared in an animalistic snarl. Yet his eyes, burning with rage were unmistakably human.

"You dare defy me?!" Uncle roared, his voice a guttural blend of anger and betrayal. "After all I've done for you?! I raised you! Fed you! Trained you! And this is how you repay me?"

Thorne's jaw tightened, the glow of his eyes intensifying. "You didn't raise me. You caged me. You shaped me into a weapon for your own schemes. You used me, just like you use everyone around you. And now..." His voice dropped, cold and venomous. "...you'll pay for it."

Uncle's laughter was hollow, deranged. "You think you're something special, boy? Just because you've got your shiny little tricks? You're nothing without me! I made you. Every ounce of power you wield every skill you've mastered; you owe to me!"

Thorne didn't respond with words. Instead, he moved.

With a flash of blinding silver, Thorne dashed forward, the floor beneath him cracking from the sheer force of his launch. He struck with aether-infused speed, his daggers flashing like twin comets. The blades slashed across Uncle's chest, cutting deep. Aether surged through the strikes, crackling and burning like lightning. Uncle roared in pain, stumbling back, but the wounds began to knit together almost immediately, his regenerative abilities kicking in.

"You're going to have to try harder than that!" Uncle snarled, swinging his massive fist in a wide arc. The red aura around him flared, amplifying the force of the strike.

Thorne ducked under the swing, his enhanced senses allowing him to react just in time, and retaliated with a blast of raw aether. The explosion sent Uncle skidding back, his boots grinding against the debris-strewn floor. But even as the energy seared his flesh, Uncle let out a guttural laugh.

"Is that all you've got?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I thought for so long that once you let that mask you have been wearing, that you would be someone... Worthy of respect... But..." His charred lips, broke and bled as a grotesque, spiteful sneer appeared on his face.

"But... you are still no one. Just an orphan, desperate for attention and love!"

Thorne's eyes narrowed, his rage boiling over. "You don't get it, do you?" he growled. "I'm not the scared little boy you used to beat and manipulate. I'm done playing your games."

Uncle charged with a roar, his aura expanding in a wild, chaotic burst. The air around him shimmered with heat, and his fists glowed with red energy as he barreled toward Thorne like a runaway freight train.

Thorne met him head-on.

The clash was cataclysmic. Thorne's aether collided with Uncle's berserker aura, creating a shockwave that shattered what remained of the surrounding walls. The ground beneath them cracked and buckled, and debris rained from the ceiling as the two forces pushed against each other. Thorne's daggers struck with pinpoint precision, aiming for weak spots in Uncle's defenses, while Uncle's fists came down like sledgehammers, each blow sending ripples of pain through Thorne's body despite his Aetheric Skin.

"You're nothing without me!" Uncle roared, landing a devastating punch to Thorne's ribs. The impact sent Thorne flying, his body slamming into a broken column with enough force to crack the stone.

Thorne gasped, his vision momentarily blurring from the pain. He could feel his ribs protesting, but his lunar regeneration was already working to repair the damage. Still, Uncle's words struck a nerve.

"You think you made me?" Thorne spat, staggering to his feet. His voice was a venomous snarl, dripping with contempt. "You didn't make me. You tried to break me. But you failed."

Uncle's face twisted with fury, veins bulging in his neck. "Ungrateful brat! Everything you are is because of me!"

Thorne's response was a wordless roar as he unleashed a torrent of aether, the raw energy surging forward like a tidal wave. Uncle braced himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest, but the force of the attack sent him skidding back, his boots carving deep grooves into the ground.

"Look at you," Thorne said, his voice cold and cutting as he stalked forward, aether swirling around him like a storm. "You're pathetic. You think you're invincible, but you're just a coward hiding behind your power. You've spent your entire life using people, tearing them down to build yourself up. But now..." He raised his daggers, their edges glowing with concentrated energy. "...it's your turn to fall."

Uncle roared and charged again, his berserker trait amplifying his speed and strength to monstrous levels. The fight descended into a brutal, visceral melee, with both combatants pushing themselves to the limit. Uncle's strikes were wild and devastating, each blow accompanied by a surge of red energy that threatened to overwhelm Thorne's defenses. But Thorne countered with precision and control, his aether-infused attacks carving deep into Uncle's flesh even as the berserker's regeneration struggled to keep up.

Through it all, the tension between them was palpable, a culmination of years of hatred, resentment, and betrayal. Uncle's rage was a firestorm, fueled by his belief that Thorne had turned on him after everything he had done. Thorne's fury burned just as brightly, born from a lifetime of manipulation and suffering at Uncle's hands.

"You're done, old man," Thorne said, his voice cold and unyielding as he landed a devastating strike to Uncle's side, aether crackling along the blade.

Thorne staggered back, daggers in hand, his chest heaving with exertion. He stared at Uncle, whose grotesque body seemed to defy reason, healing almost as fast as Thorne could inflict damage. The cuts and burns from his aether-infused blades left their marks, but they weren't enough. Uncle's berserker-fueled regeneration and immense health pool made him a near-unstoppable force.

With a growl of frustration, Thorne flipped the daggers in his hands and hurled them at Uncle with all his strength. One embedded itself in Uncle's shoulder, the other in his thigh. Uncle roared, ripping the blades free as blood splattered onto the debris-strewn ground.

"You think those toys will stop me, boy?" Uncle sneered, tossing the daggers aside. "Pathetic."

Thorne didn't answer. He didn't need to. He felt the raw energy coursing through him, a storm of aether raging beneath his skin. He didn't need daggers. He didn't need steel. Aether was his weapon now.

The ground beneath his feet cracked as Thorne drew deeply from the surrounding aether. Invisible currents of energy swirled around him, crackling and shimmering with raw, unfiltered power. His glowing eyes blazed brighter, and his hands thrummed with energy. The air itself seemed to warp and twist under the strain of his power.

Uncle paused, his red aura flickering as he eyed Thorne warily. For the first time, there was a flicker of doubt in his bloodshot eyes.

"You feel that, Uncle?" Thorne asked, his voice calm but laced with malice. He raised a hand, and the aether coalesced around his fingers like shimmering threads. "That's your empire crumbling into ash."

Uncle's expression darkened, and his lips peeled back in a snarl. "You think this changes anything? You're still nothing without me!"

Thorne smirked, his voice dripping with venom. "No, Uncle. I've been nothing because of you. But not anymore."

With a snap of his fingers, Thorne sent the shimmering threads hurtling toward Uncle. They wrapped around his arms and legs, binding him in place. Uncle roared, struggling against the invisible bonds as they tightened, cutting into his flesh.

Thorne didn't hesitate. He extended his other hand, and a pulse of raw aether shot from his palm like a cannon blast. The impact sent Uncle flying backward, smashing through a half-collapsed wall and leaving a crater where he landed.

The ground trembled from the force, sending cracks spidering out in all directions. Nearby rubble shifted and toppled, and what remained of the reception hall groaned ominously, on the verge of collapse.

Uncle rose from the rubble with a guttural growl, his red aura flaring violently. "You little wretch," he spat, blood dripping from his lips. "You think you can destroy me? I AM THE KING OF THIS CITY!"

Thorne advanced slowly, the air shimmering with the heat of the aether swirling around him. His every step left scorched marks on the ground, and arcs of energy danced along his arms. "A king?" Thorne sneered. "You're nothing but a parasite. Feeding on the fear and suffering of others. But now? Your reign is over."

Uncle lunged, his berserker strength propelling him forward like a comet. Thorne sidestepped at the last moment, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent aetheric threads snapping toward Uncle. The threads tangled around Uncle's legs, tripping him mid-charge and sending him crashing face-first into the ground.

Before Uncle could rise, Thorne summoned aetheric grip. Invisible hands formed from raw energy and slammed Uncle back down, pinning him with unyielding force. Uncle thrashed and roared, his berserker aura flaring wildly, but the aetheric grip held firm.

Thorne crouched beside him, his glowing eyes cold. "You know what the funniest part is?" he said, his voice low and venomous. "I knew this would happen. I knew your empire would crumble, that everything you've built would turn to dust. And I waited. I waited and watched, letting you dig your own grave."

Uncle's eyes burned with hatred, his muscles bulging as he fought against the aetheric grip. "You... bastard!" he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. "You think you're better than me? You're nothing without me!"

Thorne straightened, releasing the grip and letting Uncle stagger to his feet. "No, Uncle," he said softly, his voice deadly calm. "I'm everything despite you."

Uncle's roar of rage shook the crumbling walls, and he charged again, his fists glowing with berserker energy. Thorne met him head-on, the raw aether around him surging like a tidal wave. The impact of their clash sent a shockwave rippling outward, shattering what little remained of the room.

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Uncle moved faster than Thorne thought possible, his massive bulk surging forward in an instant. A vice-like grip closed around Thorne's leg, and before he could react, he was airborne. The floor rushed up to meet him as Uncle heaved him with a roar, sending him crashing through the weakened ceiling into the floor above.

Thorne's body skidded along the rubble-strewn floor, a cloud of dust rising around him. He groaned, wiping blood from his forehead. The sharp taste of copper filled his mouth as he spat and forced himself upright, the creaking of debris beneath him echoing in the empty chamber.

Below, Uncle's bellow of rage shook the building. Thorne didn't hesitate. Using aether motes swirling at his fingertips, he constructed invisible platforms in midair and hopped down through the jagged hole in the floor. Each step shimmered with translucent energy, steadying his descent until he landed gracefully on the ground. He barely had a moment to adjust before Uncle's red aura flared, brighter and angrier than ever.

The transformation was horrifying. Uncle's already grotesquely swollen muscles surged even larger, veins bulging grotesquely along his skin. His pallor deepened, his face turning deathly pale as the toll on his body became evident. Open wounds gushed blood that instantly vanished, as though consumed by the very energy sustaining him.

Thorne's breath hitched, his glowing eyes narrowing. Whatever this skill was, it was pushing Uncle's body beyond its limits. But Thorne didn't intend to let him use it unchecked.

Without hesitation, Thorne thrust both hands forward, summoning a flurry of aether projectiles. They streaked through the air in rapid succession, the glowing motes of power hammering Uncle's massive frame relentlessly. The room erupted in flashes of light, the sound of energy impacting flesh deafening as the barrage overwhelmed even Uncle's berserker-enhanced defense.

Uncle dropped to his knees, roaring in rage, his voice echoing like thunder. Thorne didn't wait. He summoned two more platforms of aether beneath his feet and leaped forward, closing the distance between them with incredible speed. The motes of aether around him swirled into his hand, coalescing into a deadly lance of pure, concentrated energy. It pulsed with raw power, humming as if alive.

Thorne's yell tore through the air as he hurled the lance. It streaked forward like a shooting star, closing the gap in an instant. The impact was cataclysmic. The explosion sent shockwaves rippling outward, and the force of it whipped Thorne's hair and sent rubble skittering across the floor. Uncle's massive form was hurled backward, crashing through the already-ruined wall and falling into the square outside with a resounding boom.

Thorne stood there, his body sagging from exhaustion. The amount of aether he had poured into that attack was staggering, and his limbs trembled from the strain. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs, and he knew that even if he survived this battle, there would be a steep price to pay for pushing his powers so far.

But before he could steady himself, the ground beneath him trembled. His eyes widened as a red comet shot through the air from the square outside. For a heartbeat, Thorne thought it was one of the falling stars that had plagued Alvar, but he quickly realized the truth.

It was Uncle.

The massive figure streaked toward him with terrifying speed, his aura blazing like a crimson inferno. Thorne's reflexes kicked in, and he activated his burst of speed just in time, sidestepping the devastating attack. Uncle crashed into the ground where Thorne had stood, the impact sending a shockwave that threw him backward. The explosion of red energy rattled the walls and sent debris flying in every direction.

Thorne scrambled to his feet, but Uncle was already there, a monstrous figure of fury. With a guttural roar, he leaped forward, his grotesquely oversized arms swinging down with terrifying force. Crimson energy shaped into two massive fists surrounded his hands, amplifying each strike.

Blow after blow rained down on Thorne. He tried to evade, but the sheer speed and ferocity of Uncle's attacks left little room to maneuver. Each punch sent pain rippling through his body, and the red energy seeping into him felt like insidious whispers of fury, clawing at his mind and clouding his thoughts.

The aether motes around him clung to his body, their faint glow like a desperate attempt to shield him from the onslaught. But the red energy fought them off, pushing through the protective barrier. Thorne's mind raced, panic clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He called to the motes, pleaded with them, gathering them inside him to shield them from Uncle's corrupting aura.

A sickening crack echoed through the room as one of Uncle's punches found its mark. Pain exploded through Thorne's chest, and he realized with a grim certainty that something had broken. He let out a desperate, hoarse yell, his voice raw with determination.

With everything he had left, Thorne unleashed the stored aether in a single, devastating burst.

The room was consumed in a brilliant explosion of light. Aether surged outward in a wide radius, the pure energy shattering debris and sending Uncle hurtling backward. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the storm of aether washing over everything in its path.

Thorne staggered, his body trembling from the sheer effort. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his vision blurred. But he stood tall, his glowing eyes blazing with an intensity that even Uncle's rage couldn't match.

Uncle's battered body sprawled on the rubble-strewn floor, his charred flesh knitting itself back together in agonizingly slow bursts. Every shallow rise and fall of his chest defied the logic of survival. Thorne limped toward him, his breaths ragged and uneven, every step accompanied by sharp, stabbing pain radiating through his ribs. He felt as if his body were being held together by sheer force of will.

As Thorne loomed over him, the air thickened with tension. The room seemed to hold its breath. Aether motes shimmered faintly, swirling in the corners like fireflies, gradually bending toward Thorne's presence, drawn by his command.

"When did you know?" Thorne rasped, his voice barely audible, but carrying the weight of the moment.

Uncle's eyes, still burning with crimson rage, flickered with something primal and cunning. For a moment, the grotesque parody of a man seemed almost lucid. "Knew what?" he croaked, blood seeping between his teeth as he sneered.

Thorne's eyes narrowed. The aether around him swirled faster, responding to his emotions, creating a vortex of shimmering energy that began to hum softly, separating them from the rest of the world. His voice steadied, low and cold. "About my powers."

A bloody smirk curled Uncle's cracked lips. "From the moment I laid eyes on you."

The words hit Thorne like a blow. His mind spun as memories long buried resurfaced, vivid and raw. That day... when Uncle first found him. The stubborn, half-dead child who refused to let go. The wild eyes, filled with defiance even as his body teetered on the edge of death.

"That child," Uncle hissed, his voice gaining strength as his hate poured forth. "You were a vicious little thing, even back then. You attacked me, threw rocks at me, bit me, clawed me! And still, I took you in."

Thorne's fingers curled into fists as his memories aligned with Uncle's words. He could feel the seething rage bubbling under his skin, feeding the aether vortex that spun faster around them, lashing out in unstable bursts.

"You knew all along," Thorne whispered, almost to himself. His heart hammered in his chest as the truth solidified.

"Of course, I knew!" Uncle barked, spittle flying. "You think you could fool me? You think I didn't see you for what you were?"

Thorne's gaze darkened, his voice a quiet storm. "And yet I did. Again. And again. You were so busy admiring your own magnificence, you never noticed. You never noticed the hatred."

Uncle's face twisted in a snarl, his muscles flexing. Thorne sensed the subtle shift in the aether, the disturbance heralding another attack. Uncle was preparing something. But Thorne wasn't finished.

"I loathed you," Thorne continued, his voice rising as the vortex of aether roared louder. "I hated every second in your shadow. I hated the lies, the manipulation, the pain. And I hated you most of all."

The aether in Thorne's hand began to solidify, forming a weapon unlike anything he had wielded before. Uncle's eyes flicked to the glowing mass, and for the first time, Thorne saw a flicker of uncertainty. It was fleeting, but it was there.

"I bided my time," Thorne murmured, stepping closer, the wild energy sparking dangerously between them. "I waited until I could end you once and for all."

Uncle roared, his voice raw and animalistic. "You fool! I cared for you! Loved you! Raised you! And this is how you repay me?"

Thorne let out a bitter laugh. "Love? Is that what you call it? Manipulation. Abuse. Control. That's what it was."

Uncle's muscles bulged grotesquely, the red rings of energy encircling his arms glowing brighter, ready to unleash destruction. But Thorne's mind was sharp, focused, his hatred cutting through any lingering doubt.

"Before you die," Thorne began, his voice icy, "do you even know what I am?"

A flicker of confusion crossed Uncle's face. Thorne's eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction. He doesn't know, Thorne realized. After all these years, he doesn't know. A small, cold smile crept across his face. Good.

The smile fell away, replaced by a deadly calm. "Goodbye."

Uncle bellowed in fury, his hands thrusting forward as the red energy surrounding him surged outward in a desperate, destructive wave. But Thorne was ready. He clenched his fist, and the unstable vortex of aether surrounding them collapsed inward, detonating in a cataclysmic explosion.

The blast consumed everything in its path, obliterating debris, fire, and even sound itself. The force tore through the room, leaving nothing untouched.

Except Thorne.

Standing in the eye of the storm, untouched by the chaos he had unleashed, Thorne surged forward, the glowing mass of aether in his hand transforming into a blinding arc of destruction. He swung the cleaving blade in a wide, unrelenting arc.

For a split second, Thorne felt resistance, and then nothing.

Uncle's massive, grotesque form crumbled. The aura of rage dissipated. The red glow in his eyes faded, and his core, the essence of what had kept him alive flickered weakly before extinguishing completely. Thorne stood over the man who had dominated his life, who had tried to shape him into a weapon, and watched as he became nothing more than a lifeless husk.

Then it happened.

Thorne's own core reacted instinctively, latching onto the remnants of Uncle's aether. The pull was visceral, unstoppable. The raw energy siphoned into Thorne, seeping into every fiber of his being. It filled him, burned through him, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he felt invincible.

And then his knees buckled. His body gave out, and he collapsed next to Uncle's remains. Every muscle screamed, his chest heaved, and his mind swam in a haze of exhaustion and power. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the ruined building.

It was over. Uncle was gone.

Kneeling next to the lifeless body, Thorne's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving from exertion. His vision swam as a series of notifications blinked in his periphery, flickering like fireflies in the dim light. They blurred together, the words hazy and unreadable, as though his mind refused to process them.

What's wrong? he thought. And then it hit him.

Tears.

A warm trail of wetness slid down his cheeks, unbidden and relentless. He touched his face with trembling fingers, brushing against the salty streaks. Why am I crying? The question churned in his mind, but no answer came. Was it happiness? Relief? Grief?

The air around him buzzed faintly, charged with the remnants of aetheric attacks, the battlefield still thrumming with the aftershocks of their destructive clash. Yet beyond the lingering hum of energy, the world felt unnervingly quiet. Still. Empty. Dead.

I'm free.

The thought settled heavily in his chest. He was finally free.

His gaze shifted downward, to the twisted, broken mass of flesh at his knees. For a moment, his mind refused to reconcile what he was seeing with what it knew. This isn't him. This can't be Uncle.

And yet, it was.

His hand trembled as he reached out, brushing lightly against the distorted remains of the man who had once loomed over every corner of his life. The touch was almost reverent, an instinct he couldn't suppress. His voice broke in a barely audible whisper, trembling with disbelief.

"He's gone…" The words felt foreign in his mouth, like he was speaking them for someone else. "He's really gone."

The truth of it slammed into him, a tidal wave of emotion that left him gasping. The man who had controlled him, hurt him, shaped his every waking moment with cruel precision… was no more. He could leave now. He could run far, far away, and there would be no one to stop him. No one to pull the strings. No one to drag him back.

I'm free.

The realization echoed in his mind, reverberating with such intensity that his whole body seemed to quiver. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotions he couldn't name. His freedom tasted bittersweet, tainted by years of pain, fear, and manipulation.

And then he heard it.

Slow, deliberate clapping.

The sound sliced through the heavy silence, low and mocking, each clap echoing ominously through the ruined space. Thorne's head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisting into a mixture of confusion and dread. He stiffened, his heart hammering in his chest.

Behind him, someone stood in the shadows, hidden just beyond the reach of the flickering moonlight. The clapping continued, deliberate and sardonic, as if congratulating him on his victory or mocking the very idea of it.

Thorne's fingers curled into fists, aether beginning to stir faintly in the air around him. The electrified stillness of the battlefield was shattered, replaced by a chilling anticipation.

He wasn't alone.

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