There were no concrete records of the dark realm. Information on the realm of mystery was scarce with no evidence of it being true. Unlike the other realms, the dark realm seldom let go of its intruders. Entities like Cronos who had escaped the realm were few and in between. In fact, it was highly likely that Cronos was actually the only survivor. For even the Allfather Odin, a being ever so thirsty for knowledge that the sacrifice of an eye was seen as trivial, had no curiosity concerning the Dark realm- just trepidation. So why was it called the dark realm? Why did the gods fear it so? Why did the prideful Cronos keep mute about what he experienced there, leaving only descriptions of what the realm looked like in a thin, withered book. It was of great fortune that the dark realm was located at the edge of the Universe, a location only available to the strong. Hence, only a few were privy to information concerning this deathtrap. Its legend

"So, we finally meet, President Frederick Fulbright."  Frederick looked at the group that stood before him. Their smiling faces did nothing to ease his discomfort. The hydra twins, Jake and John, sons of the Northern Empire's Grand Duke; the Western Empire's Prince, Prince Abelard; and the handsome chap with the seemingly unimpressive background, Mane. With the exception of Mane, whose background was a mystery, the other members of the Silver Wolves team had very impressive backings. Frederick may be the head of the student governing body here, but outside the school walls and in the face of any of these behemoths, he was as good as naked. Even his sway over this team in the Academy was almost non-existent. Especially after finding out that the strength of their captain exceeded Selina's- the strongest of the Student Council body. While this was the Student Council building, and while this was his office, he felt as though he was the vi

The Dark Kingdom. An organisation that had terrorized Zandorians for years now. There was very little information on this organisations. This band of terrorists had plagued the Planet of Zandor for centuries. No one knew where they originated from. Information on their leader was scarce. There was information on their ranks was as rare as a dragon’s tail. It was an organisation that stalked from the shadows, striking when a weakness was realised. That was the most terrifying enemy to have, one who could see you yet wasn’t seen.This dark force was in constant battle with the Wielders Association for centuries now, the reason for the conflict unclear as a fog clouding a major street. One thing was certain though, the Dark Kingdom had a depraved habit of capturing geniuses and brainwashing them. They then incorporated them into their ranks and had them fight those they were previously sworn. It was a disgusting habit had earned them the ire of all. They were a rampa

"So, do you think he's telling the truth?" Selina asked Frederick, her slightly shaking hands betraying her true emotions, cancelling out the calm in her voice. "I think you already know the answer to that question." Frederick answered her whilst gulping down a glass of cold orange juice. Natural fruit juice always seemed to calm him down when he was anxious. But today it seemed as though this beverage had lost its effectiveness. His brain just kept playing the conversation they had with the Silver Wolves team over and over again, with no signs of stopping. His mind was a complete mess. "What do you think we should do?" Frederick asked, eager to hear Selina's thoughts."I want to join him." Hardly had Frederick posed his question, did its reply find its way to the Student Council President. Frederick turned to look at Selina. He had known her long enough to know what her current gaze meant. That determination on h

In a well-lit room with ample space, a tall man stood All his focus was on the canvas mounted before him. He held a brush in his right hand and a flurry of colors adorned the thin wooden sheet on his left. The easel that held the canvas was as black as his hair and a stark contrast to this brightly lit room. "So this is what the kid looks like huh." Rosa commented as she looked at the figure portrayed brilliantly on the canvas, a feat made possible by the incredible artistry of her brother. "Yes. This is he." Kahn nodded at her words, not even bothering to turn towards her, his focus still on the painting. He applied the finishing touches with extreme deftness of the fingers. Such delicate movements was a strange sight to behold, when one recalled that its originator was a burly and rough looking soldier. In fact none of the soldiers in Kahn's platoon were aware of his hobby. His skills with the brush was a secret only those close to him wer