Blood. The scent of iron lingered like a curse in the air.
Neo stood on top of a mountain of corpses — Remnants, torn apart, disfigured, their blood soaking through his boots. His twin blades hung loose at his sides, dripping red. He exhaled, chest rising and falling slowly, his breathing calm despite the carnage. His hair clung to his face from the sweat and blood, and his expression remained unreadable.
He raised one sword and stabbed a corpse beneath him — a twitching Remnant that tried to move. The sound of the blade tearing through bone echoed sharply. "Stay down," Neo muttered, voice flat. Then he pulled it free and jumped down, landing beside the others with a heavy thud.
Asher dragged his feet toward him, his crimson sword sheathed behind his back, its edges still glowing faintly from the heat of battle. "That was damn intense," Asher said, wiping his brow. His voice cracked with exhaustion, but the grin on his face was pure adrenaline. "I'm so tired I could drop dead right here."
Serpahina approached, her coat fluttering in the wind, one sleeve soaked in blood. Her left arm hung limp, clearly broken, yet her expression was calm. "Are you kids okay?" she asked gently.
Asher gave a dry chuckle. "That's for asking, ma'am, but yeah, somehow." He rolled his neck until it popped. "We're still alive, so that's a win."
Neo turned, eyes narrowing slightly. "You look worse than we do," he said, his tone neither mocking nor sympathetic — just an observation.
Serpahina gave a faint smile, the kind that was half weary, half prideful. "It's not a big deal," she said, tightening a torn strip of her coat around her arm.
Before anyone could respond, Rhyes's footsteps echoed closer. His usual composed look was cracked slightly — his uniform ripped, his hair in disarray, and streaks of blood marking his cheek.
He stopped near the edge of the cratered ground, where Zazm stood motionless.
Zazm was silent, his figure haloed by the strange shimmer of warped air. His hands were positioned as though he was holding something invisible — one palm above, one below. The space between them twisted unnaturally, and the air rippled with crushing gravity.
A low hum vibrated through the entire area. Pebbles, broken steel, even bodies began to lift off the ground, drawn toward that invisible point.
Then, everything snapped.
The wind exploded.
Rubble flew into the air.
Steel beams screamed as they bent.
Even nearby trees tore out of the ground like paper.
Neo stumbled back, shielding his eyes. "Oi, what the hell?! Where's the blackhole?!"
There was nothing visible — yet the pressure was unbearable. Asher's boots scraped against the ground as he leaned against his sword just to stay upright. "There's—nothing there!" he yelled over the roaring wind. "I can't see anything!"
Serpahina's face was deadly serious. "That's because you can't. A blackhole bends the light around itself — it's invisible to the naked eye."
Her tone dropped, heavy. "But you can feel it, can't you?"
They all could. The air itself seemed to bend and stretch, their bones trembling with every pulse of the gravitational distortion. Zazm stood at the center of it all, his figure barely holding steady as his body resisted the force trying to tear him apart.
Sweat rolled down his temple.
His veins were visible through his skin.
His eyes glowed white and gold — Nexus's Gaze, fully active.
He muttered under his breath, voice nearly lost in the chaos.
"It's absorbing small matter… growing faster… I need to get rid of it."
The void between his hands shuddered — a black particle, no larger than a fingernail, hovered there. Yet the space around it bent like liquid glass. The pressure radiating from it was enough to crush anything within meters if not contained.
Zazm extended his will — folding, compressing, and twisting the surrounding space over and over. The air screamed as invisible barriers collapsed into one another like walls of glass grinding together. Slowly, painfully, the black particle stopped growing.
Then —
It shrank.
The wind lessened.
The floating debris fell.
The gravity around them stabilized.
And then — silence.
Zazm collapsed to one knee, hand pressing against the ground, his other clutching his side. He exhaled, breath ragged, his expression unreadable. "It's done," he said simply.
Neo was already beside him, crouching. "Oi. What happened to 'a few hours'?"
Zazm didn't look at him. "Didn't have that luxury. Another few minutes, it would've reached building-size."
Asher gave a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're insane, Zazm."
Rhyes stepped forward, his voice steady. "Did you contain it or destroy it?"
"Contained, compressed, then erased the singularity from the pocket fold." Zazm straightened his back slowly, eyes distant. "But yes… the dimensional barrier has been broken. I found the source."
He raised his gaze toward the dark sky, eyes glowing faintly. "A planet — outermost edge of the universe. Coordinates: ZL-392-Theta-07-Aurion's Verge. Roughly sixty-seven billion light years away."
The group stared, stunned.
Asher let out a half-laugh, half-choke. "The teleporters can't even calculate that distance, let alone travel it!"
Rhyes nodded grimly. "Even with folded travel, it would take months. Not even the central cores could handle that stress."
Zazm replied flatly, "I can teleport us there."
They looked at him — all of them, the exhaustion, disbelief, and awe blending into silence.
Zazm wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to stand, but Neo pushed his shoulder gently. "Sit. For a damn second."
Zazm blinked at him once, then obliged, lowering himself. Neo stayed beside him, arms crossed.
Rhyes exhaled. "Commander Mira should be arriving any moment. I called for reinforcement and healing kits."
"Why?" Asher asked, curious. "You don't usually call for help."
Rhyes' tone was pragmatic. "Because we'll need every functioning body we can get."
Moments later, a rush of wind swept through the broken plaza. Commander Mira appeared, walking briskly with her usual coat-pant attire, her expression composed as ever. She carried a small case filled with silver vials that glowed faintly blue.
"These aren't complete restoratives," she said, handing them out. "They'll only heal surface injuries. You should call—"
"No healers," Rhyes interrupted. "They can't survive this much Vana concentration. We'll manage."
The group drank in silence — the liquid burned their throats, warmth spreading through their limbs. Serpahina's broken arm straightened slightly; Asher's bleeding slowed. Zazm finished his bottle in one sip, exhaled, and rose again.
"Let's go," he said simply.
Neo's brows furrowed. "You sure you're good?"
Zazm didn't answer — he simply raised his hand, opening a portal.
But this one wasn't normal.
Instead of a window showing the other side, it shimmered with violent purple and gold lightning, swirling endlessly, forming a tunnel of chaotic energy. The pressure made the ground vibrate.
Neo stared. "Something's… different."
"I had to create a transition space," Zazm said, his tone calm. "A pocket buffer. In case there's a trap on the other side."
One by one, they stepped through. Inside, the space looked like a corridor made of liquid glass, streaks of gold energy crackling through transparent walls. Each footstep echoed like it traveled through time itself.
But then —
Zazm's eyes widened. His Nexus's Gaze flickered.
He looked around — the space was shifting. The walls bent inward, warping like a living thing.
"Wait—"
His voice was sharp, too sharp — too late.
The world twisted.
The corridor split like cracked glass.
"Zazm!" Neo shouted.
Zazm reacted instantly — raising his hand and snapping space itself.
The section beneath Neo, Asher, Serpahina, and Rhyes shattered like a mirror, hurling them back through a dimensional slit toward the campus. Zazm himself fell through the opposite end as the space collapsed behind him, sealing shut.
Neo hit the ground rolling, eyes wild. "Zazm!"
The portal flickered, then vanished.
He slammed his fist into the dirt. "What the fuck happened?!"
Rhyes stood still, staring at the spot where the space had sealed. A vein popped at his temple. "They would've gotten us all if Zazm hadn't severed the plane."
Asher leaned on his sword, frustration etched across his face. "Everything's falling apart. Why is it always like this?!"
Serpahina turned away, her voice quiet but resolute. "He knew what he was doing."
She gave them a faint, tired smile. "I'll trust that kid."
---
Elsewhere — Unknown Coordinates
Wind howled across a barren cliff.
Ash-gray skies stretched endlessly, lightning flashing in silence. The ground was dead — cracked, colorless, lifeless.
At the edge, a lone figure sat, swinging his legs over the abyss.
His cloak was long and black, its hem torn, patterned faintly with spirals that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A hood covered his head, and his mask — smooth, Black, with a jagged scar running from the right temple to the chin — stared out into nothing.
He looked like a shadow painted over the world.
The air around him whispered faintly — voices that weren't there.
Then, behind him, space rippled.
Zazm stepped out of a portal, his coat fluttering, his eyes faintly glowing. He scanned the desolate world, then focused on the masked figure.
"Are you the one who brought me here?"
His tone was low, cold, precise — but edged with faint irritation.
The figure didn't answer immediately. He turned his head slowly, the movement lazy, almost mocking.
Then he laughed — a thin, childish, eerie laugh that echoed wrong. "Brought you here? Hah. No, no, no, no… I merely invited you. The one who set the trap was Spiral."
[Reaper]
[Class Threat: Omega]
Zazm's gaze sharpened. "Then let me go."
The Reaper raised both hands like a child caught stealing. "Can't do that. Spiral wants you here for a reason, and I can't disappoint him." He fidgeted with his gloved fingers, voice lilting. "You understand, right? Orders, and all that…"
Zazm took a slow step forward, his presence heavy — the very ground beneath him cracked. "Then I'll deal with you first."
The Reaper's laughter stopped.
Silence stretched, the only sound being the distant thunder.
Then he tilted his head. "Ah… so it's that time already." He raised his right hand, and faint tendrils of black mist began to coil around his arm.
Zazm's tone didn't change.
"Then let's get it over with… Omega class threat Reaper."
The masked man chuckled lowly. His aura expanded — shadows rippling out from beneath him, stretching across the cliff like a living tide. His voice deepened, losing all humor.
"Let's see then what is it you're really made of."
The wind howled again — sharper this time, like a scream.
Zazm took off his coat and threw it to the side, the fabric fluttering down the cliffside, stained faintly with dust and ash. His expression stayed the same—cold, calculating, silent. Then, wordlessly, he loosened his tie, wrapped it tight around his right hand, and flexed his knuckles once.
The Reaper tilted his head, voice laced with curiosity and mock concern.
"What are you going to do?"
He didn't even get an answer.
Zazm appeared in front of him in an instant—space warped, air cracked—and his hand shot forward, wrapping around the Reaper's neck. The impact thundered like a cannon. The ground beneath their feet fractured as Zazm's grip tightened, crushing the man's throat.
The Reaper's boots scraped against the stone, his hands clawing at Zazm's arm.
"Le–Let's stop, please!" he wheezed, his voice cracking under the pressure.
But Zazm didn't listen. His tone was low, heavy, emotionless.
"Get out of my way."
The Reaper's voice faded into a rasp. "None can do…"
Before the words finished, he twisted his body, channeling an explosive surge of Vana through his legs. His heel shot up—slamming straight into Zazm's chest. The impact sent Zazm flying backward, the air erupting in a concussive burst.
Reaper stumbled forward, coughing and clutching his neck as he staggered toward the cliff's edge. He leaned down, gasping for breath.
"I nearly died… You should stop doing that."
He exhaled shakily, his childish tone returning—until Zazm suddenly appeared behind him again, silent as the void itself.
Before Reaper could react, the tie was already around his throat. Zazm pulled it back, using both hands, and lifted him clean off the ground before slamming him down into the dirt. The ground cracked violently beneath the force of the impact, the sound echoing through the cliffs. Reaper's breath hitched as he choked, thrashing under Zazm's boot.
Zazm didn't stop. He stomped on the Reaper's chest, once—twice—each blow sending deep fissures through the stone floor until the entire plateau trembled.
Then, with one hand gripping the Reaper's collar, Zazm lifted him again and hurled him off the cliff like broken trash.
The Reaper's body spiraled downward through the air—
—but in the next moment, Zazm was already there, midair beside him.
He twisted his body and drove his heel straight into the Reaper's stomach. The impact was brutal. The ground below shattered as the Reaper hit, a massive crater ripping open beneath him, dust and rock exploding outward.
Zazm landed softly on the edge of the crater, his eyes scanning through the smoke. Nothing.
A faint giggle echoed behind him.
Zazm turned sharply. The Reaper was standing again, dusting off his shoulders. The same silly, sing-song tone left his mouth.
"You are a bad person. You hurt me."
Zazm's gaze didn't waver. He vanished from sight again—reappearing behind Reaper with another flash of spatial distortion. His kick shot toward the back of the Reaper's neck—
—but Reaper ducked, one hand snapping up to catch Zazm's leg.
He grinned.
"Got you!"
He tried to throw Zazm over his shoulder, but Zazm's body flickered—gone from his grip in a flash. Before Reaper could turn, a heavy punch came straight for his face. Reaper twisted just in time, the blow grazing past, and countered with a roundhouse kick.
Zazm lifted his elbow, blocking. The impact cracked the air, both of them sliding back several feet.
Then they clashed again.
Zazm dashed forward—fist, knee, kick—each strike flowing into the next with precision, his movements sharp, clean, unbroken. Reaper parried each with one hand, laughing between grunts, spinning, ducking, countering.
A flurry of strikes followed—Zazm's fists a blur, Reaper's body bending unnaturally as he avoided each hit by inches. He twirled his arm and brought a backhand chop toward Zazm's jaw; Zazm ducked, twisted his wrist, and drove an elbow into Reaper's ribs.
Reaper staggered—smiling even as the pain jolted through him.
"That hurt!"
Zazm didn't reply. He pivoted on one heel and sent a spinning kick into Reaper's gut. The blow echoed through the cliffs, launching Reaper backward into a cluster of shattered rock.
Dust clouded the air.
For a moment, everything was silent—just the faint hum of Vana in the wind.
Then came the laughter again. The same childish tone, unshaken, echoing through the smoke.
"Let's get serious."
The Reaper stood, ripping the sleeve off his left arm.
Zazm's eyes narrowed—the mark on his arm glowed faintly, sharp and defined.
An AMI mark.
"An AMI mark…" Zazm muttered.
The Reaper grinned, his voice gleeful.
"Surprised? Well, it was a little gift I prepared."
"Where did you get it?" Zazm asked.
Reaper paused, tapping his chin like a child pretending to think. Then he laughed again.
"It's a secret."
He raised his arm.
With a low hum, a massive scythe formed in his hand—seven feet of twisted, refined death. Its handle was thick, lined with faintly pulsing runes. The blade itself gleamed white with blood-red markings, a black crystal pulsing at the joint where metal met the shaft.
Zazm's eyes followed every inch of it, calculating.
An AMI mark…
An AMI marks provided humanity with two things one the ability to contain vana in their bodies by acting as an achor which allowed them to awaken an ability like remnants and second a weapon that they can form anywhere.
The weapon formed from an AMI mark contains a seperate ability once awakened. The weapon might or might not have a power related to the ability awakened.
Due to this weapon advantage humanity was stronger in terms of strength, A zero star human can kill several 0-star remnants because of their dual abilities and more efficiency.
However an AMI mark is something that can't be achieved normally one has to go through several processes to gain it and even then it isn't guaranteed that your body can contain it. It's placed under extreme security in the NullFlux bastion for a remnant to have it was an impossible thing yet the reaper stood with a weapon made from AMI mark in his hand.
The Reaper ran a finger along the blade lovingly.
"I thought I'd get a new ability or atleast my Vana output would increase after getting this," he said, tone half disappointed, half amused. "But nothing changed. Still, it's ability is useful."
Zazm sighed faintly, his expression tightening.
"This just got troublesome."
Reaper laughed again, that same childlike giggle. "Yes, yes~!"
He spun the scythe once and leaned on it lazily.
"You don't have a weapon. That's unfair, isn't it?"
He pretended to think, tapping his chin again. Then his voice dropped to a playful whisper.
"Well, I'll tell you what mine does. It basically kills you."
Zazm's tone was flat.
"How helpful."
Reaper wagged a finger. "No, no, listen~ This scythe attacks the soul. So if you get so much as a scratch—your soul gets poisoned. You'll die in a few minutes. It's like a death countdown, if I say so."
Zazm's eyes narrowed slightly, thoughts flashing—a soul-based weapon… then his innate ability must be something death-related.'
Then, without warning, Reaper lunged.
Zazm didn't move.
The scythe came down, slicing toward his neck with frightening speed—
—and shattered the instant it touched him.
The Reaper froze. The blade broke into shards mid-swing, disintegrating into dust that scattered into the wind.
"How… how did that happen?" he stammered, blinking in disbelief.
He spun the weapon once, and the blade reformed instantly, glowing anew. He attacked again, faster, harder—the same result. The blade stopped inches from Zazm and shattered into fragments.
The Reaper growled, frustration bubbling under his childish tone. He struck again—punches, kicks, wild swings—but none of them landed.
Zazm stood still, unmoving, calm as stone.
Finally, Reaper leapt back, breathing heavily, confusion breaking through his grin.
Zazm's eyes opened fully this time. The air around him rippled. A dense, invisible pressure pressed against the world, bending it. His gaze glowed faintly—Nexus's Gaze flickering like dying stars.
[Zazm]
[Threat Class: Omega]
The Reaper tilted his head again, voice light, amused, almost pouting.
"That's cheating! Why can't I hit you?"
Zazm teleported Infront of Reaper but Reaper's eyes were no joke either he quickly picked up Zazm's pace and predicted his attack however his body froze in place.
A bone shattering kick landed on his face sending him flying.
"Let's see how amusing it is for you...." Zazm spoke his voice even more colder now, "When you're the prey."
The battle raged on.
Zazm stood perfectly still — calm, silent — while the Reaper charged again and again, his scythe slashing through the air like lightning.
Every strike stopped just centimeters away from Zazm's body. It was as if something unseen — a wall, a gap, a distortion — hung around him. The scythe never met flesh. Each blow shattered against the air, halted by an invisible barrier that wasn't him, but the space surrounding him itself.
The Reaper's grin faded, frustration beginning to bleed into his childlike tone. His scythe stopped mid-swing again, this time not breaking, but trembling as if hitting solid stone. He jumped back, breathing sharply, sweat running down his temple beneath the cracked mask.
Before he could react, Zazm flickered — teleporting right in front of him.
But Reaper's eyes weren't dull; for all his childish madness, his reflexes were monstrous. He sensed the distortion, read Zazm's movement, and moved to dodge—
—only to freeze.
His entire body locked in place. Muscles wouldn't respond, breath stuck halfway in his throat. Why can't I move? flashed through his mind.
Then Zazm's foot connected.
The kick landed with a bone-shattering crunch, the air itself trembling under the force. Reaper's body whipped backward like a ragdoll, crashing through a jagged boulder — the entire mass of stone exploding apart in a shower of dust and debris.
Before he could even process the impact, Zazm was already there. He grabbed Reaper by the skull and slammed him down into the broken earth, the shockwave splitting the ground in a spiderweb of fractures.
Dust rose around them. The air tasted of iron and energy.
Zazm didn't pause. He lifted his foot and stomped — directly onto Reaper's face. The sound was sickening — a muffled crack, followed by the sharp snap of stone beneath. A thin fracture spread across the Reaper's mask, cutting through the right side in a jagged line.
Inside that mask, Reaper's mind spun wildly — whispers, screams, and fragmented voices overlapping:
Die. Die. Die.
You want revenge?
You're useless.
Take good care of this mask…
A haze of static and memory crawled through his skull — before one final kick came descending toward his face.
But this time, Reaper's hand shot up.
He caught Zazm's foot.
The impact stopped midair, the ground trembling from the sheer pressure between them. Zazm's eyes widened slightly — just a flicker of surprise — before he teleported backward, space rippling around him.
Then he froze too, realization flashing in his mind.
That killing intent.
It was overwhelming, ancient, suffocating. The very air around them felt heavy enough to crush lungs.
Reaper stood up slowly, dust sliding off his black cloak. His hand brushed the scratch across his mask, and his voice came out low, hollow, alien.
"How dare you."
The tone was cold — stripped of all childishness. No giggles, no mockery, no hesitation. His voice now sounded like the weight of death itself.
He took a single step forward.
The planet groaned.
The sky bent.
The mountains in the distance flattened like paper, the ground collapsing in on itself as if gravity had multiplied a hundredfold. Everything — every rock, every particle — was crushed under the sheer pressure radiating from him.
Zazm raised his hand, resisting the force, his jaw clenched.
"What… the hell…" he hissed through his teeth.
The Reaper's scythe reappeared in his grasp, its crimson markings glowing violently as the very space around him distorted. He was about to swing —
—when a voice echoed through the air.
Calm. Deep. Absolute.
"Reaper. Calm down."
The sound alone carried more authority than the pressure of the Reaper's power. The air itself bowed under it.
Reaper froze. His eyes widened, and the murderous aura vanished instantly. He dropped to one knee, the childish tremor returning to his tone.
"M–my king, I was just about to fight, I—"
From the shadows of the warped space, a figure appeared.
The False King.
He walked forward with slow, steady steps — every movement deliberate. His cloak was woven in black and gold, lined with a faint glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.
His body was regal and tall, yet unnatural. His face — what could be seen of it — was completely black and glitching, like fragmented static trying to imitate human shape. His neck, his hands, everything that showed was the same — a corrupted form of reality itself.
Behind him walked two figures.
One — a tall woman, calm and unreadable, her eyes swirling with the mark of Spiral.
And beside her — a small girl with straight black hair, her expression empty, voice bored.
The little girl chuckled lightly.
"What happened, Reaper? You look like you need help."
Reaper pointed a shaky finger at her, back to his childish voice.
"Listen here! I'm older! Learn some manners!"
Spiral's gaze slid past them, cold and detached, focusing on Zazm.
She walked closer to the False King and spoke quietly.
"He's on the level of an Omega. However, he hasn't reached our realm yet."
The False King didn't respond. He simply stood there — staring at Zazm. His glitching face betrayed no emotion, no hint of thought.
Spiral continued.
"He's created a space between himself and the actual space. No attacks can touch him unless they can cut through space as well."
The False King's voice, when it came, was deep and still — as if the air itself was forced to listen.
"Are you afraid of him?"
Spiral shook her head slightly.
"Why would I be? I only have to remove that space… and he'll die."
She glanced toward Reaper, her gaze unreadable, and thought silently: 'Still… how did he push Reaper that far?'
Even when Reaper isn't serious, his powers are second to none.
Zazm struggled to stay upright. The air around him was still dense from the pressure. Sweat rolled down his temple as he breathed slowly, each inhale heavier than the last.
His thoughts raced.
This is bad… I'm nearly out of Vana. And this King… I can't feel an end to his energy.
No—he doesn't have an end.
The realization hit him like thunder.The False king had infinite vana.
And even worse — Reaper hadn't even been serious.
The False King took a single step forward.
"I'll take it from here."
The girl behind him — Nelli — frowned, stepping slightly ahead.
"You shouldn't deal with such a lowly creature, King. Let me handle him."
The False King's head turned slightly toward her.
"I want to see something."
Then he vanished.
He reappeared beside Zazm instantly — faster than teleportation.
Zazm's eyes widened, his breath caught.
Did he just… teleport?
The False King tilted his glitching face slightly, his voice flat, calm.
"You look surprised. I was merely checking how fast one must go to teleport."
Zazm moved instantly — his leg arcing toward the King's neck.
The False King caught the kick with one hand. Effortless.
Then his other hand moved. A punch — slow, casual — yet the mere air pressure of it made the planet quake. The ground beneath them split open, the atmosphere howled.
The punch stopped a few centimeters from Zazm's chest — unable to touch him — but the force still sent tremors through the crust of the world.
Zazm teleported backward, appearing far away—
—and froze.
His left arm was gone.
Blood sprayed from his shoulder, his sleeve shredded.
Behind him, the False King stood calmly, holding Zazm's severed arm in one hand, and in the other — a black sword glowing faintly with distorted energy.
Zazm stared, eyes wide.
When… did he move?
The King's tone remained unreadable.
"You can regenerate… No." He tilted his head slightly. "You reverse the time of your body."
Zazm's arm regenerated instantly, rewinding back into existence, whole and untouched.
Nelli's eyes widened in shock, her earlier boredom gone.
"What just happened…?"
Reaper laughed his childish laugh again, stepping forward proudly.
"Allow me to explain!"
He pointed at the sword in the King's hand.
"That sword isn't ordinary. It can cut through any and everything!"
Nelli blinked. "What?"
Reaper nodded energetically.
"Space, time, reality, attacks—no exceptions! You name it, it cuts it!"
Nelli frowned. "Then what's the False King's ability?"
Reaper paused, scratching his mask. "No idea."
"What!?" she shouted, looking at Spiral and Reaper.
"You've been with him for thousands of years—how do you not know?"
Spiral's tone stayed calm, detached.
"Because he's never needed to use it."
"He can kill all of us without using his abilities…" Spiral replied her own voice betrayed a hint of fear.
Nelli stared, disbelief spreading on her face.
Nelli shook her head and looked at Reaper,"I thought you were the fastest among us....can't you move slightly faster than light?"
Reaper giggled. "Nope! The King's faster."
"How fast…?" she asked, voice trembling slightly.
Zazm's body froze again, realization dawning.
The False King's voice came out calm, absolute.
"You're almost out of Vana. Reverse time one more, and you'll deplete it entirely."
Zazm clicked his tongue. The King was right.
The False King raised his sword.
"Any Last words?"
He vanished.
The world blurred—
—and Zazm's body fell apart.
His legs and arms dropped first, cleanly severed, blood spraying in crimson arcs. His torso split from his waist, his head separated from his shoulders — all within an instant so fast even time hadn't realized it had happened.
Nelli's eyes went wide.
"What just happened!? The King didn't even move!"
Reaper giggled.
"You misunderstood. The King is so fast… he can travel a hundred seconds into the future."
Nelli's face went pale. "How is that even possible…?"
Spiral's gaze didn't waver.
"There's no way to dodge his attacks. They've already struck before you — or even the universe itself — has realized it."
The False King turned away, lowering his sword, voice void of tone.
"Let's leave."
Nelli stared at him — fear, awe, and confusion all tangled in her eyes. Her thoughts trembled.
'He could erase both humans and remnants alike… but why doesn't he?'
_______________________