Ascil walked slowly into the arena. His footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor—but they made the entire room stop for a moment.
The scene before him was a recreated arena circle, no trace of the previous battles. Surrounding it were familiar faces: survivors—victors—characters who had walked through death but still survived to the end.
They were chatting, examining their wounds, removing their weapons… But what made Ascil frown was the absence of two names:
Akira. Khaz.
He looked around, one face at a time—there was no sign of the red-haired girl in the fiery armor, nor of the cold warrior who always kept an indifferent expression. Neither of the two people who had fought alongside him were here.
Ascil fell silent, his eyes darkening.
"They're not here… there are only two possibilities."
He didn't finish his sentence. But deep in his mind, he understood clearly.
—One, they couldn't return… because they were still stuck somewhere in the final trial.
—Two, they… couldn't pass.
At this moment, a giant notice board appeared in the air, the words glowing brightly:
"WELCOME SURVIVORS. THE FINAL PHASE OF THE GAME WILL BEGIN SOON."
Ascil clenched his fists. A feeling that was both suffocating and intense rose in his chest.
"Akira… Khaz… Are you two still alive?"
Ascil bent down and picked up the scroll that had fallen from the void. Golden threads twined around the edges as if they were made of light and memory.
He opened it, his eyes scanning the words:
The Final Game: "OVERTHROW THE GODS"
This was the final stage. No more individual challenges, no more isolated arenas.
The goal: Overthrow the entire divine system that controlled the world.
Players were allowed to cooperate, share power and memories.
Any betrayal was freely decided, for this was a game without morals—only goals.
"The gods are not immortal—they are only protected by a layer of assumptions. Tear that layer away."
The ultimate victor would rewrite the very fabric of reality.
Ascil clenched the paper. The wind picked up. The air seemed heavier, thicker, as if the world were holding its breath in anticipation of what was about to happen.
"Overthrowing the gods… There is no turning back."
He looked up at the sky, where faint cracks were still visible.
"Akira… Khaz… If you two survive… We will end this game together."
Outside the arena, gates began to open. From afar, thunder, roars, and… whispers of ancient entities echoed.
Ascil took a deep breath, stepping towards the gates of light—where the battle with the creator of the rules was about to begin.
Lightning slashed across the sky like a brutal cut that tore apart the barrier between the divine realm and the arena. The gods, still clad in majesty and light, were suddenly swept into the vortex of space — and then, all of them appeared in the center of the largest arena.
One of them — who seemed to be a god of chaos — glanced around, looking both displeased and amused:
"Hey, this didn't come with a warning? I haven't even fixed my hair yet! But never mind… just have fun."
A few other gods began to appear behind him. Some were still holding unfinished wine glasses. Some were scratching their heads as if they had just been awakened from a long sleep. No one understood what was happening, but the only thing they could clearly feel was… something was changing — fundamentally.
Ascil appeared on the outer edge of the arena, his eyes smoldering with fire. He didn't say anything. Just raise your hand — and strange symbols glow around your body.
A goddess — beautiful as the dawn — frowns slightly:
"Wait… why can't I feel the protective law layer?"
The drum beats. No one knows where it comes from.
The final game has begun.
Players: The survivors.
The victims: The gods.
Just as the final drumbeat had yet to subside, a clear laugh rang out in the air, breaking the tense atmosphere like a knife:
"Hehe! I'm bored — let's start!!"
From above, a god with the appearance of a teenager, his brilliant white wings spread out like a miniature galaxy, swooped down like a meteor. His eyes were clear like a child's, but contained a crazy gaze. There was no need to call out the name of the move, no need to signal — just a wave of his hand.
"BOOM!!"
A giant ball of energy, the size of an entire city, was suddenly created from nothing. It spun in his palm and was thrown straight down to the center of the arena, where the players were still scattered.
The ball did not make a whistling sound, there was no sign of traditional magic — but everything it passed through was erased as if it had never existed. No smoke, no fire, no ash — just gone.
A player who didn't have time to react had disappeared without a trace. No screams, no bloodshed — only a jagged void where the body had stood.
Ascil frowned, waving his hand to create a three-layer barrier from the remnants of the information he had just received — but when the sphere swept past, the first two layers shattered like wet paper, leaving only the last layer, reinforced by his own will, to withstand the aftershock.
The smoke cleared. The ground was as bare as if it had been reset. The god clapped his hands like an excited child after a mischievous act:
"Isn't it cute?! Who's next~?"
BOOM!
He charged towards Ascil like a falling meteorite, his fist clenched and he delivered a punch straight into Ascil's chest — not just a physical attack, but also a series of information shockwaves.
The punch hit!
Ascil's body was pushed back dozens of meters, the ground behind him exploded like glass being struck by a sledgehammer. Pain spread throughout his body, every cell felt as if it was being strangled by a force that did not belong to physics.
But… Ascil did not fall.
He was still standing — eyes closed, hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword — and a thin red thread of light flickered at the corner of his mouth.
"Good…" — Ascil opened his eyes, looking straight at the god who was preparing to strike again — "Then I don't need to hold back anymore."
Ascil raised his hand, and a red light flowed out from the void, . From there, Muramasa appeared — not as an ordinary sword.
The thin, dark red blade was like molten metal, each line on the sword body seemed to be groaning
Ascil gripped the sword tightly, his head slightly lowered, his breathing steady.
The god seemed to pause for a moment, not because of fear, but because he instinctively — despite his childish temperament — felt something very wrong with that blade.
Ascil raised Muramasa high, a red streak cut across the sky—and he slashed down.
BOOM!!!
For a moment, everything fell silent as if even the sound had been cut in half. Then immediately after — the arena split into two perfect halves, split from top to bottom as if it had been sawed with a surreal blade. The entire space shook
The white-winged god — who had been smiling like a child just now — now stood there staring at his upper body falling away from his lower body. His eyes were wide open, not in pain, but in incomprehension.
"What… what is this…? Why… can't I recover…?"
Ascil looked at the god Kai — who was holding his stomach laughing as if he had just seen a farce — with a cold, unwavering gaze.
"So that's it… a clone."
The space shuddered. All the remaining players took a few steps back, feeling an unnamed pressure from Muramasa. It wasn't air, nor energy — it was the feeling of death.
Kai continued to laugh, his voice echoing in the space like a teasing child's voice:
"You think you can really kill me? Don't be silly. My true self is somewhere your consciousness hasn't even reached. This is just a projection model, understand? Like… those dolls."
He raised his hands, swaying as if dancing to a children's song.
Ascil didn't say anything. But in his eyes, at this moment, a reverse flow of information appeared. A story, a thread, a map leading to the "true self".
Muramasa trembled slightly — it had grasped the "name" of the other being.
Ascil closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The wounds, the memories, the deaths he had witnessed – all condensed into a single feeling: pain.
And then he opened his eyes.
His eyes were now a deep abyss, reflecting the brilliant fragments of something
"That's right... I have the power of the Mysterious, don't I?"
Ascil whispered, his hand gripping Muramasa, and activated "Mystery: Pain".
Time stopped.
No – more precisely, all concepts of movement had been condensed into a still point, regardless of the gods or the surrounding space.
The name of the god, woven from concepts, from the fundamental nature of reality, was also frozen like an insect in amber.
Ascil walked lightly through the sky twisted by the eternal force. With each step he took, lines of light appeared beneath his feet—they were words, scripts, fate.
"2%… enough." He muttered.
With 2% of the power of the miracle, Ascil was no longer just an observer, but a rewriter. Even though he had only scratched the surface, he could edit the story—not just of the living, but of the unliving as well.
He lightly touched the forehead of the frozen god.
A line of text appeared before his eyes:
God's name: unknown.
Self: Originated from the concept of "happiness."
Status: Immobile
Ascil smiled, then added at the bottom:
Ending: pierced through the heart by Muramasa.
He stepped back.
Time was unfrozen.
The god's eyes widened when he saw that Muramasa had already stabbed through his chest, while Ascil stood far away, silently as if he had never made a move.
"How... how could that be... I didn't show any opening...?"
Ascil replied:
"It wasn't me who cut you.
It was the story that was rewritten... to be like that."
Time stopped once more. No sound, no flickering light—only a stillness so sacred it was suffocating, as if all existence were holding its breath before Ascil's next move.
He raised his hand slightly, the Muramasa tinged with the blood-red light of the sun burning on the horizon of the apocalypse.
"Just to be sure…" — Ascil muttered.
And then—a crimson slash, as bright as the sun at its birth, drew a straight line not through space, but through dimensions,
In the farthest reaches—where the god's true self resided—a nebula-like form stood motionless, watching over the fragments of its destiny. But it was all too late.
The blade pierced through.
It did not cut flesh or matter—it cleaved the original soul, the original being, carved from the concept.
That red slash went through "indestructibility", shattered "immortality", and destroyed the ability to regenerate.
The god – or rather, what was once considered a god – did not scream, did not resist, just disappeared silently and absolutely, as if it had never existed.
Ascil withdrew Muramasa. Time continued to pass.
A gentle wind blew through his hair, like the last whisper of a "Concept that once had a name".
He turned away, his eyes calm but cold:
"Now… it's your turn."
Just as Ascil was about to take his next step, a soft but powerful voice rang out in the air that was leaving behind the utmost tension.
"Stop."
Time no longer existed, but the presence of the person who had just appeared made all the movements around Ascil blur, as if the world was moving forward to make room for something higher than the law.
From the side of the competition, a woman stepped out. No one knew where she came from. Her hair was white as night dew, her eyes were as clear as the galaxy, her hands were loose with a leisurely appearance — but no one could be confused: she was a "limit keeper", or maybe even more.
She looked straight at Ascil, not angry, not excited, just the absolute calmness of someone who knew the entire recovery of every story.
"The veil has passed," she said, her voice echoing as if it could be transmitted through the earth.
"Follow me. There is no need to fight anymore."
Ascil's eyes were blurred. His breathing was still unsteady. Muramasa's blade was still glowing red, as if unsatisfied. But in his heart, he knew – this woman was not for awakening… but for ending.
"And if I don't go?" Ascil asked softly, not in protest, but because he wanted to be sure.
She replied:
"This game will truly end… and this world will no longer need a place for purpose."
And at that moment – Muramasa extinguished itself.
Ascil had no choice but to follow her. She introduced herself as the person who had guided them from the beginning. "You who have completed the game will now receive a wish for you to choose?"
Ascil didn't think for a moment before asking: "Can you show me the world from a panoramic perspective?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes flashing with interest. She observed Ascil – the boy who had once fallen, lost his way, and been swallowed by suffering – now standing before her with a strangely calm and mature look.
"A wish. Anything… And you choose to see the world from a panoramic perspective?"
She was silent for a few seconds. Partly to confirm, partly to consider. Then finally, she smiled and nodded:
"Okay. Open your eyes… and don't let it swallow you."
As soon as she lightly touched Ascil's forehead, the entire space around him suddenly darkened, then turned into endless light. No gravity, no direction. Just a stream of data flowing,infinite layers of the world – from physical forms to chains of laws, from memories to the flow of time, all appearing before his eyes like a living web.
He saw everything:
– Entities that had never been named,
– And… stories that had never been written, but were silently influencing everything.
Ascil gasped. His head was throbbing. Not because of the limitations of his body, but because of the terrifying loneliness of understanding the whole. But at the same time, he understood—he was no longer the same person.
In the distance, the woman was still watching him from a void door, arms crossed, eyes unreadable:
"At first, this guy looked like a normal pig…" – she thought to herself, eyes narrowing –
"…But it seems, the power of the miracle really changes the user's nature. In the end, he was the only one who didn't choose to fight, but chose to watch."
Ascil stood in that space — no body, no boundaries. He was no longer a person; he was now a consciousness, swimming in a bottomless ocean of information.
Before his eyes, a small point of light flashed.
He looked closely… it was his own world. A rotating crystal ball, transparent and shimmering like a gem. But just a second later, from within that gem, thousands… then billions of time branches split, split, intertwined, like giant veins breathing.
Each timeline was a story: – One where Akira defeated Asta.
One where Khaz did not summon Lucifer.
One where Ascil had never entered the arena…
And one where they had never existed.
Ascil wanted to count those timelines, but then he realized — they were uncountable. Not because there were too many of them, but because they had no beginning or end.
Then his gaze retreated further.
His world… was just a small part of a vast universe. A universe that contained an infinite number of other worlds:
– Some were just a shapeless mass of primordial consciousness,
– And places where logic had been completely reversed.
And then, further away, something else appeared:
A multiverse, where each universe was a slowly moving dot of light like a star. Every second, countless new universes were born — and there were also universes that disappeared, swallowed by something larger than imagination.
Ascil was silent.
He had seen it all:
– From the roots of the world he lived in,
– To the vast web that had no end,
A thought flashed through his mind:
"So… what is real? What is fake? Or is it all just a skin covering for something… nameless?"
A soft voice spoke—it was the woman from earlier, but no longer speaking words, but echoing in his mind:
"You have chosen the whole view… and now you know. What will you do with that knowledge, Ascil?"