ULTIMATE VENTURES SEASON 1

LIN ONGRO

The atmosphere between us is electric, the kind of connection that's grown over ten thousand years. Akilhi stands in front of me, and I lean back against the wall, my arms resting on his shoulders. He pulls me closer, his hands on my waist, and our lips meet in a deep, lingering kiss. It's tender yet intense, as if time itself slows down. His lips are soft, and his tongue dances with mine, fresh and warm. There's an undeniable rhythm between us, one that feels both natural and urgent.

As we move towards the bed, Akilhi's hands slide down my back and grip me firmly, pulling me against him. I feel the weight of his body as he lowers me onto the mattress, his hands exploring my body, squeezing my chest as if testing how much of me he can feel at once. My hand moves to him instinctively, finding its place, and I begin to rub, slow and deliberate. The moment feels like it's building towards something bigger, something inevitable.

Then, the door slams open.

My father storms in, fury etched across his face. "What did I say about no sex before marriage?!" Before I can react, a beam of blinding light shoots from his hand, slamming into Akilhi and sending him crashing to the floor.

"Dad, what did you do?!"

He doesn't even look at me. "What I have to!" His voice booms with authority, his anger seething. "This—this stupidity! Kissing, touching—this wasn't how your mother and I loved each other at your age. You need to stop this now. Both of you! You're to meet me at the Council of Elders, understood?!"

"Yes, sir," I mumble, my heart racing as he storms out, the door slamming shut behind him.

I immediately drop to the floor beside Akilhi. He's breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. His face is pale, eyes wide with shock. "Are you okay?" I ask, my voice trembling with worry as I help him sit back up on the bed.

"I'll be fine... I think." He takes a shaky breath. "What… what the hell did he hit me with?"

"Photon energy," I explain, glancing at the door to make sure my father's really gone. "It looks like light, but it's powerful. He absorbs energy from the sun, channels it through his body."

Akilhi shakes his head, rubbing his chest. "I've never felt anything like that. I couldn't breathe."

I help him sit up straighter, still unsure if he's fully okay. "Rest here a bit. My dad wants us at the Council building, and after what just happened... I don't know what else he's going to do."

Akilhi nods, wincing as he tries to regain his composure. "I'll meet you there… just need a minute."

I give him one last worried glance before heading out, my heart pounding in my chest. My father's anger still echoes in my ears, and I can't shake the feeling that the worst is yet to come.

Finally Akilhi shows up in the meeting. Few minutes later, a man appears among us—a slim, frail figure with blood-flecked, wrinkled skin, dressed in tattered, moth-eaten clothes. He is Nathan, a man with no powers, no weapons, no strength. But he possessed something far more valuable—the spirit of El-Shaddai, a wisdom that transcended physical might.

Nathan's voice is shaky as he delivers his prophecy. "Erebus will be chosen as the next emperor," he said, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "But his rise to power will bring crisis to Megan. He will conspire with Goliath, one of the Sentry Giants, to plunge this planet into chaos."

The response from the gods are immediate and scornful. Laughter echoes through the air, mingling with insults and the sharp sound of stones being thrown. "You know nothing of leadership, old fool!" one of the gods sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Nathan endures it all—the mockery, the pain, the disdain. But he stands his ground, his eyes shining with the certainty of his vision. "I have done my part," he said, turning to leave. "Now it's time for you to do yours."

His words linger in the air long after he had gone, a ghostly echo of a future that none of us wanted to believe.

Training Field

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training field where two young boys, Giboin and Hiroshima, stand facing each other. The air is thick with tension, the kind that comes before a storm. Both boys are ready, their swords grips tightly in their hands, eyes lock in a silent challenge.

Giboin moves first, his muscles coiled like a spring. He reaches across his body, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword. In one fluid motion, he draws the blade and snaps it forward, pointing it directly at Hiroshima. His stance is precise, feet parallel, knees bent, body upright—a textbook example of readiness.

Hiroshima mirrors his movements, drawing his own sword with practiced ease. They stand in silence for a moment, the only sound the rustling of the wind through the trees. Then, with a shout that pierced the quiet, I gave the command. "Fight!"

Giboin explodes into action, charging at Hiroshima with a ferocity that seems to shake the very ground beneath them. His feet shuffles rapidly, maintaining his balance even as he raises his sword high above his head. The blade flashes in the dim light, descending toward Hiroshima with deadly intent.

But Hiroshima is ready. His sword comes up in a swift, defensive arc, the blade angles to form a protective roof over his head. Giboin's strike landes with a sharp clang, the force of the blow dispersing harmlessly against the steel. Hiroshima sidesteps, letting Giboin's momentum carry him past, then snaps his sword down toward his opponent's unprotected shoulder. But Giboin is quick, too quick, and the blade sliced through empty air.

The two boys turn to face each other again, both breathing heavily, eyes fill with the focused intensity of the fight. Giboin wastes no time, launching another attack, this time aims at Hiroshima's ribs. The movement is swift, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between them. Hiroshima parries the strike, his sword moving with a grace born of experience. He knows something about Giboin—something that gave him the edge. Like many of Megan's fighters, Giboin is skilled in kendo, a style that was more sport than true combat. It is a game of precision and control, where strikes are limited to certain parts of the body, and brute force is frowned upon. But this is not a game. This is a battle.

Hiroshima have no interest in playing by the rules. As Giboin sets up for another ear-splitting attack, Hiroshima makes his move. He parries the strike, then turns sharply, his leg sweeping out in a low, powerful kick that cathes Giboin just below the knees. The boy collapses, hitting the ground with a thud, his sword slipping from his grasp.

Before he can recover, Hiroshima's blade is at his throat, the cold steel pressing against his skin. I step forward, my voice carrying across the field. "That's enough, Hiroshima! Well done. You fought with skill and control. Giboin, next time, try to fight with ease."

Giboin, still catching his breath, nodded. "I'm trying," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Try harder," I advised. "You fight with too much rage. Anger can cloud your judgment, make you reckless. In a fight, it's better to remain calm. A calm mind thinks clearly, strategizes, and conserves energy. That's what Hiroshima did, and it's why he won."

As I finish speaking, Akilhi approaches me, his face pale with worry. "Lin Ongro, I need to speak with you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

I nod, sensing the urgency in her tone. "Drax, take over. Call the next group to train," I instructed, then turned to follow Akilhi.

We walk in silence, the atmosphere between us heavy with unspoken fears. Akilhi's steps are unsteady, his dread palpable. I could see the tension in his every movement, the way his hands trembled as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently, trying to ease his anxiety.

He hesitated, his voice a mere whisper. "I have a confession to make."

"Speak, Akilhi," I urged. "There's no need to be afraid."

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Do you remember the old man, the prophet, who warned us about Erebus?"

I nodded slowly. "I remember. Why?"

"Everything he said is true," He confessed, her words rushing out in a desperate torrent. "He wasn't lying. I tried to ignore it, but I can't anymore. We have to do something. We have to stop Erebus."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I freeze, muscles tensing, my mind reeling from the revelation. "You must be joking," I managed to say, my voice strained.

"I'm not," Akilhi insisted. "We have to warn the others. We need to prepare for what's coming."

I stare at Akilhi, trying to make sense of what he was saying. My mind races, grappling with the idea that the people I had trusted all my life could be plotting against us.

"Didius Julianus won't allow that," I said, my voice strained. "He has the support of my father, my mother, my uncle, and grandfather. All of them. And the other gods—they'll back him too. Erebus is nothing compared to them."

Akilhi shakes his head, his face lines with worry. "Lin, some of them are already working with Erebus. Your grandfather, your mother, they've secretly aligned with him. Path Finder showed me everything."

"No," I said, almost choking on the word. "No, I don't believe you. I can't believe this."

"Whether you believe it or not, it's happening. We're going to be let down, Lin. We can't trust them blindly. We have to tell your father and the others what's really going on."

"Stop!" I snapped, the weight of it all pressing down on me. "Just stop, okay? Garma and Aynat would never betray my father. They wouldn't betray us. We've been through too much together. Why would they turn on us now?"

Akilhi's expression softens, but his voice remained firm. "I don't know why. But I do know that it's the future. We have to act now, or it'll be too late."

I can't stand to hear any more. "Didius Julianus will win the imperial election, and there will be peace," I insisted, as if saying it aloud will make it true. I turned away from him, the anger and confusion swirling inside me, and walked off without another word.

As I walk, I feel the tension knotting in my chest, but I can't bring myself to accept what Akilhi had said. The idea of my family betraying us feels impossible, like a bad dream I can just shake off. I convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying silent, by trusting in the bonds that had held us together for so long.

But deep down, a part of me knew I was wrong. I ignore the truth Akilhi had tried to show me, and that choice—my choice—would come back to haunt us all. When the betrayal finally came, when the crisis unfolded just as Akilhi had warned, it was too late to stop it. And in that moment, I knew that I had failed.