Dust blinds me.
Stone keeps falling.
I do not hear Sage.
That is the problem.
Something inside my chest twists, hard and violent, like a lock snapping under pressure. The fear does not spread. It condenses. It sinks. It finds something old and waiting.
The obsidian along my arm cracks.
Not breaks. Cracks.
Veins of black spread beneath my skin, crawling up my neck, across my jaw, behind my eyes. Heat floods my veins, cold follows, then neither. The pain in my arm fades, not because it heals, but because something else decides pain no longer matters.
I breathe.
The breath is not mine alone.
The world sharpens. Colors thin. Sound stretches. The ruin around me slows, debris hanging in the air a heartbeat longer than it should.
I hear him laugh.
"There it is," Malfious says, stepping through the dust like it parts for him. "I was wondering how long you would pretend it was not there."
My shadow moves before I do.
It peels off the ground, stretches wrong, rises behind me like a second spine. The obsidian spreads further now, crawling with purpose, engraving my body in angles and fractures that do not belong to flesh.
My hands curl.
Not into fists.
Into something sharper.
Malfious tilts his head, eyes burning with recognition.
"There is the destruction," he says, voice almost fond. He pauses, then smiles wider. "Or should I say… Chaos."
The word hits something deep.
Not a name.
A trigger.
The presence behind my eyes opens one eye.
I feel it smile without a mouth.
The pressure around me explodes outward. Loose stone disintegrates into powder. The floor caves an inch under my feet. My pulse no longer matches my heartbeat. It matches something older.
I take a step forward.
The ground splits.
Malfious does not retreat.
He watches me like a scholar watching proof walk into the room.
"Good," he says softly. "I was afraid you would disappoint me."
Behind the dust, somewhere beneath the ruin, I feel it.
A barrier.
A pulse.
Sage.
Alive.
The thought anchors me for half a second.
Chaos strains against it.
And Malfious raises his hand again, eager now, hungry to see how far I will fall before I stop being myself.
The world cuts out.
No impact. No fall.
Silence.
I stand in nothing.
Not dark. Not light. No floor, yet I do not fall. No sky, yet something looms above. I look up and my breath locks in my chest.
There is a ceiling.
Far away. Endless. Smooth.
And reflected on it is me.
Except it is not me.
My body stands upright, whole, uninjured, wrapped in obsidian like ceremonial armor. The cracks glow faint violet. My posture is wrong. Too relaxed. Too sure. My eyes burn with intent instead of doubt.
He rolls my shoulders like he is settling into a chair.
"So," he says, using my voice better than I ever did. "You finally noticed."
My jaw tightens. "Get out of my body."
He laughs. Not loud. Amused. Familiar in the worst way.
"This again. You always start there."
I step forward. The void ripples under my feet like disturbed water. "You are not me."
He tilts my head, examining my hands like they fascinate him. "No. I am what you carry so you do not collapse."
I feel him everywhere. In my spine. In my breath. In the echo between thoughts.
"You are killing me," I say.
He looks up. Directly at me. At the real me.
"You confuse killing with removing weakness."
Anger flares. Fear too. I shove both down. "You used my body. You enjoyed it."
A pause.
Then honesty. Bare. Sharp.
"Yes."
He steps closer. Each step folds the void inward. "And you let me."
"I did not choose this."
He smiles. "You survived it."
I clench my fists. "Sage is out there. You almost got her killed."
His expression shifts. Not guilt. Calculation.
"She anchors you," he says. "Interesting choice. Inefficient. Effective."
"Do not talk about her."
"Why." He leans closer, eyes narrowing. "Because she reminds you you are human."
I say nothing.
He straightens, sighs through my lungs. "Listen. I did not take control because I wanted to. I took control because Malfious forced your hand."
"I felt you push."
"You felt me respond."
The void trembles. Far above, cracks spider across the reflection.
"You fear becoming me," he continues. "Yet every time you reach the edge, you call for me. You do not scream my name. You open the door."
I grit my teeth. "I will lock it."
He laughs again. This time softer. Almost fond.
"You do not build cages. You build weapons."
Silence stretches.
I ask the question I hate most. "If you are Chaos, then what am I."
He considers. Truly considers.
"Choice," he says at last. "And that annoys me."
The void pulls.
Reality tugs at my ribs like hooks.
He turns away, already returning to my body. "I will give you this one back," he says. "For now.
I shout after him. "You do not own me."
He looks over his shoulder, smiling with my face.
"Then prove it."
The void collapses.
Pain slams back in.
Stone. Fire. Screams.
And my body is mine again.
NAZZ
NAZZ
NAZZ
NAZZ
The words slam into my skull like a chant carved with rusted knives. Each repetition tighter. Louder. Closer.
Then his voice slides in.
Deep. Raspy. Amused.
"But first let me have my fun with this one."
The world tears sideways.
I am ripped backward into the void again, dragged by my own spine. The ceiling returns. The reflection returns.
Only this time I am not standing.
I am watching.
My body moves without me.
Nazz rolls his neck. Cracks echo like breaking obsidian. Purple light leaks through the seams of my skin. He exhales, slow, satisfied.
Below us, the ruin shakes.
Malfious straightens, wiping white energy from his arm. His eyes narrow.
"So," he says, voice warped with disbelief. "You finally let it out."
Nazz smiles with my mouth. Wide. Wrong.
"Let," he repeats. "You say that like I ask permission."
I feel everything. The weight in my limbs. The hunger in my chest. The joy that is not mine.
This is what scares me. Not the power. The comfort.
Malfious plants his feet. The floor fractures outward. "You are destruction wearing a corpse," he snarls. "You are borrowed filth."
Nazz laughs. The sound vibrates through my ribs.
"Borrowed." He tilts his head. "Cute word for something older than your name."
I scream inside my own head. Do not enjoy this. Do not let him feel you enjoy this.
Too late.
Nazz steps forward. The air compresses. White energy recoils before touching him.
Malfious lunges.
They collide.
No flash. No explosion.
Pressure.
The building groans like it wants to kneel. White energy forms again, thicker this time, burning the space between them. I feel my bones heat. My nerves sing.
Malfious grunts. Actual pain. Again.
"How," he growls.
Nazz leans in, foreheads nearly touching. "Because you are force. I am absence."
He headbutts Malfious.
The shockwave folds the room inward. Columns shear. The ceiling splits. I feel Sage somewhere distant, still alive, thank everything that still listens.
Malfious stumbles back, rage boiling over. "You think you are free," he roars. "You are chained to a boy who still cares."
That hits.
It hits me.
Nazz freezes for half a breath.
I feel it. The irritation. The crack.
"Oh," Nazz says softly. "You noticed."
Malfious grins, blood on his teeth. "You cannot finish me without breaking him."
Inside the void, I clutch my head.
He is right. And Nazz knows it.
Nazz straightens. Calm returns. Colder.
"Watch carefully," he says. To Malfious. To me. "This is the difference between cruelty and control."
He raises my hand.
Chaos condenses. Not energy. Not matter. The refusal of both. The space around his palm erases sound.
Malfious's grin falters.
For the first time since I met him, he hesitates.
I shout from the void. Stop. You will burn everything.
Nazz does not look at me.
"I know," he replies inside my skull. "That is why I am precise."
He releases it.
The strike is silent.
Malfious is thrown through reality itself, not backward, not sideways, but away, torn across layers like paper peeled from glue. His scream cuts off mid sound, swallowed by nothing.
The room collapses after, late to the violence.
Nazz exhales.
I feel the aftermath like smoke in my lungs.
He turns inward. Toward me.
"You see," he says, almost gentle. "You survive because I enjoy the fight. Do not confuse that with mercy."
The void tightens again.
My turn is coming.
I feel it.
And I am terrified.
Reality snaps back like a broken bone set wrong.
Malfious reforms midair.
Not rebuilt. Forced.
White matter knits itself together around rage and refusal. His body assembles in layers, skin last, eyes first. Those eyes lock onto Nazz the instant they exist.
Then he is there.
A hand clamps around Nazz's throat.
The grip is absolute.
The air implodes.
Malfious lifts him overhead with one arm, veins burning white, and launches upward.
The roof vanishes.
Not breaks. Vanishes.
Stone, steel, shrine, sky. All perforated in a straight vertical line as they punch through layer after layer of world. Snow flashes. Bedrock shatters. Pressure screams.
I feel every hit.
Every punch.
Malfious drives his fist into Nazz's ribs once. Twice. Again. Each impact detonates outward, shockwaves rippling clouds apart above us.
"You think erasure frightens me?" Malfious roars. "I was built to survive absence."
Nazz laughs through crushed lungs.
Blood floats, purple and black, freezing in the air.
"You confuse survival with relevance," he spits.
Malfious answers by hurling him higher.
They burst into open sky.
The sun glares through fractured clouds. Faulted light scatters across their bodies. Malfious twists midair and slams Nazz upward again, chasing him, punching with every rise.
Each blow forces sound back into existence.
Thunder cracks.
I feel my consciousness stretch thin, pulled between control and observation. My body is his. My pain is shared. My limits ignored.
Nazz wipes blood from his mouth with my thumb.
"Your mistake," he says calmly, "is believing height equals advantage."
He grabs Malfious's wrist.
Stops him.
The sky buckles.
White energy erupts again, thicker, angrier, ripping halos through the clouds. Both of their arms burn. Malfious snarls as skin chars. Nazz hisses, not in pain, but irritation
I scream inside my head. Enough. You will kill us.
Nazz finally acknowledges me.
A glance inward. A smirk.
"Relax," he says. "I am not done yet."
He twists.
The force snaps Malfious's arm sideways with a sound like continents cracking. Malfious roars, wings of energy flaring to keep himself aloft.
They separate.
Hovering.
Bleeding.
The world below looks small.
Snow drifts upward in the pressure wake. Light flickers like a failing memory.
Malfious glares at him, chest heaving. "You are not meant to exist."
Nazz floats there, relaxed, arms at his sides, chaos bleeding off him like heat.
"Neither was he," Nazz replies. "And look how far we climbed."
I feel the hunger coil again.
The fight is not over.
Not even close.
Nazz does not wait.
He moves.
Left hand first.
A straight punch, buried deep into Malfious's jaw. Bone fractures. Light sprays from the impact like glass dust. Nazz follows with the right, twisting his shoulder through the strike, driving Malfious backward through open air.
I feel the recoil in my spine.
Then the headbutt.
Forehead to nose. Clean. Brutal. The sound echoes like a bell rung inside a cathedral. Malfious stumbles, wings of energy flaring to stabilize, rage tearing through his face.
Nazz is already there.
A kick to the ribs. Another to the knee. A third to the chest, heel-first, snapping Malfious downward before hauling him back up by the throat.
Nazz speaks while he fights.
Calm. Certain.
"We are not two beings."
Punch.
"We never were."
Elbow to the collarbone. Malfious howls, energy surging wildly, tearing holes through the clouds.
"We are one."
Nazz drives his knee into Malfious's abdomen and feels something give. He grips Malfious's shoulders and slams his forehead into his again. Once. Twice.
I feel my own teeth rattle.
Malfious claws at him, desperate now, power leaking instead of roaring. His hands scrape against obsidian skin, sparks skittering away without purchase.
"No," Malfious snarls. "You are a fracture."
Nazz smiles.
"A correction."
His hand plunges forward.
Straight through Malfious's chest.
There is resistance for a fraction of a second. Then flesh, bone, energy, will all tear open together. White light screams as Nazz's arm disappears inside him.
Malfious freezes.
Eyes wide.
For the first time, fear surfaces without disguise.
Nazz's fingers close around something beating.
Hot. Dense. Screaming.
He pulls.
The heart comes free in a violent spray of light and matter, still pulsing, still trying to exist outside its body.
Malfious's mouth opens.
No sound comes out.
Nazz brings the heart to his mouth and bites down.
I feel the rush slam through me.
Memories not mine. Hunger older than stars. Rage with purpose. Power without apology. The heart dissolves between his teeth, energy flooding into our veins, burning, rewriting.
Malfious collapses midair, body unraveling, light shedding from him like ash.
Nazz lets the empty shell fall.
He floats there, blood dripping from his chin, eyes burning with a quiet satisfaction.
Inside my head, his voice settles close.
"See?" he says. "This is what wholeness feels like."
I am still here.
But something has shifted.
And the sky knows it.