The Echo's laugh was a dissonant chorus of pain and malice, a sound that twisted the very fabric of the Codex of Realm. As the Star Soul Enforcers around them withered into dust, the Echo began to draw the nascent power of the dimension into itself, a gaping vortex of shadow and negative energy. Its form solidified, no longer a mere phantom, but a solid, terrifying doppelgänger.
"You speak of reclamation, but you have no idea what was taken from me," the Echo hissed, its crimson eyes burning brighter. "Let me show you a taste of the power you wield so carelessly."
A ripple of dark energy pulsed from the Echo, and Null felt a cold, familiar dread. This wasn't just a mimicry; it was a perfect copy. The Echo's form began to shift, its jagged shadows weaving into a grim parody of Null's own ethereal armor. It wasn't just mirroring his power; it was stealing it, using his own unique energy signature against him.
Null charged, his sword a streak of pure light and shadow. But the Echo moved with a chilling precision, its movements a perfect reflection of his own. Their blades met, and the clash sent a shockwave that cracked the ground beneath their feet. Null felt a jarring kickback, as if he were fighting his own hand.
"Your power is my power," the Echo snarled, its voice a taunting echo of Null's own. "Your strength is my strength. How can you defeat the monster you created?"
Null pushed back, his teeth gritted. He felt the Echo draining him with every clash, siphoning away his Umbros and Asura energy. The sheer psychic link of their mirrored abilities was overwhelming, each blow and parry a painful echo in his mind. He was fighting a battle he couldn't win, not with his own power. He was battling a perfect copy of himself.
A series of devastating blows followed, each one perfectly aimed, perfectly executed. The Echo was faster, more brutal, unburdened by conscience or strategy. It was simply a living weapon. A blow to Null's side sent him reeling, a blinding flash of pain searing through his ribs. Another hit his head, and his vision swam. He was on the defensive, unable to find an opening, his body screaming in protest.
"This is the end, Unwritten King," the Echo laughed, its voice a sickening echo of victory. "Just as it was the end for your family. Just as it will be for your friends."
The Echo raised its blade for the final, killing blow. Null, his energy reserves critically low, saw the glint of crimson in its eyes and knew this was the end. His power was failing, his body was broken. He closed his eyes, bracing for the final impact.
But it never came.
A massive surge of energy erupted from behind him, and Null felt a presence, solid and familiar, engulf him. It was a wave of pure, unwavering loyalty. A voice, clear and strong, roared in his mind.
"I won't let you fall,"
Fang.
Null's eyes flew open. His loyal commander, a powerful and poised strategist, had done the unthinkable. Unable to bear the sight of his king's defeat, Fang had broken a cardinal rule of their existence. With a force of will that shattered the boundaries of their separate consciousness, he had merged with his contracter.
The world was a blinding white-hot flash, a silent scream of pure energy that tore through the air. And then, an oppressive silence.
The creature that stood in the crater was no longer just Null. It was a new, terrible synthesis. The silver hair had been consumed by a creeping, starless black that cascaded over his shoulders. His skin, once luminous, was now etched with faint, purple veins that pulsed with a dark, furious energy. But it was his eyes that held the true horror. The black of his sclera had swallowed the whites, leaving only a pinprick of glowing, white iris in the center, a void of defiance and rage.
Echo, still reeling from the feedback loop of their earlier clash, saw this and a genuine flicker of fear crossed his face for the first time. The power radiating from this new Null was different. It wasn't just raw force; it was a hungry, directed malice.
"What have you done to yourself?" Echo's voice was a low growl, a mix of genuine concern and professional disdain.
The new Null didn't answer. He simply moved.
It wasn't a sprint. It was a spatial tear, a series of impossible, vanishing steps that closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Echo raised his hands, preparing to meet the assault with his own counter-punch of energy, but he was too slow.
The first kick came in a blur of motion. Null's leg whipped up, a piston of raw power, aimed for Echo's jaw. The kick was so fast, so precise, that it was almost invisible. Time, for a fraction of a second, shuddered to a halt around Echo's head, the air still and silent. Then the kick connected with a sickening crack.
Before Echo could even register the pain, before the temporal stop had even fully released, a second kick was already on its way. This one, a vicious upward strike aimed for the chin, was even faster. Again, time held its breath, the world freezing around Echo's face. The kick was a blur, leaving a ghostly afterimage of Null's foot as it connected with crushing force.
This was the "flesh whip," a technique born from the fusion of Fang's temporal manipulation and Null's physical prowess. It wasn't a true time stop, but a rapid-fire series of localized stutters, an unending barrage of micro-pauses that allowed Null to land a series of blows with zero defense and zero chance of retaliation.
Echo was a punching bag caught in a temporal hurricane. He was thrown backward by the force of the first two kicks, his head snapping back violently. His body, his mind, couldn't keep up with the onslaught.
The final blow was a thing of cruel, elegant brutality. As Echo's body arced through the air, Null followed, leaping high above him with impossible grace. The new Null brought his leg down in a savage, spiraling arc—an axe kick meant to break and destroy. Time stopped one last time around Echo's head. The kick connected with the crown of his skull, a sound like thunder, and the ground beneath him fractured.
Echo, the man who had pushed Null to the brink of death, the man who had nearly won, was sent careening into the earth. The impact created a new, deeper crater, a testament to the raw, unbridled power of a new god of chaos. He was still, silent, and defeated.
Null landed a few feet away, his chest heaving, the black-and-white eyes fixed on the stillness below. Fang's rage still simmered, a low hum beneath Null's own exhaustion. The two entities, now one, stood over their fallen enemy. The battle was over. The cost, however, had just begun to reveal itself.
End of chapter 38
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