DAINEN'S PERSPECTIVE: THE WEIGHT OF A GOD'S PALM.
The air itself trembled under the oppressive force of the Ruler's Palm—an invisible, cosmic grip that pressed down upon us like the hand of an unforgiving deity. I, Dainen, strained against it, muscles burning with divine exertion, yet my limbs refused to obey. No matter how I struggled, the weight was absolute. Around me, the other Rulers—beings of incalculable power—were equally immobilized, their faces twisted in frustration. We were spectators now, forced to witness the cataclysmic duel between Krelious and Nielan, two forces of nature clashing at the heart of existence itself.
The Multiverse Core, a swirling nexus of infinite realities, pulsed beneath them, its energies flickering like a dying star as their battle raged.
NIELAN'S STRUGGLE: BLOOD, DEFIANCE, AND THE EDGE OF OBLIVION.
Nielan's body struck the Multiverse Core with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the fabric of space-time. The impact was brutal—bones of celestial make shattered, divine blood splattering across the cosmic canvas. He coughed, crimson droplets floating in the zero-gravity void, each one a testament to his pain. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up, arms shaking—only for Krelious to descend upon him again.
The next punch landed like a supernova.
Nielan's form crumpled, his ribs caving under the sheer, annihilating force. A normal god would have been erased from existence by such a blow. But Nielan was no normal god. He was a Ruler—one of the few beings who could endure, even for a moment, the wrath of Krelious.
Yet endurance was not victory.
KRELIOUS: THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF A PURE BREED
Krelious hovered above his fallen adversary, his golden eyes burning with a mixture of fury and something far worse—disgust. He shook his head slowly, the motion heavy with disdain.
"Fighting you, Nielan, is like teaching a child how to stand," he said, his voice resonating with the weight of eons. "This is a lost battle. And I hate it. So please… let's stop."
The words were not a plea. They were a command—one laced with the unshakable certainty of a being who had never known defeat.
NIELAN'S SMILE: A DEFIANT SPARK IN THE DARKNESS
Nielan, sprawled across the fractured surface of the Core, did something unexpected.
He smiled.
Blood stained his lips, his body broken, yet his spirit remained unbroken. With a ragged breath, he finally spoke, his voice a whisper that carried across the infinite battlefield.
"You don't even see me as an opponent," he said, chuckling weakly. "To you, I'm still just a child… just as I've always been, since the moment we were born."
Krelious's eyes darkened.
"And just like at our birth," he growled, "you still carry that greed for power. A power you will never have."
The anger in his voice was palpable, a storm contained within a god's throat.
Nielan laughed—a raw, broken sound. Then, with impossible effort, he pushed himself up, his limbs trembling but his gaze steady.
"I know what you are, Krelious," he said, his voice gaining strength. "A Pure Breed. A being without limits. Your power scales beyond boundless—beyond what even the other Rulers can fathom. You could crush us all beneath your heel without breaking a sweat."
A pause. A breath.
"But it won't be so easy… when you face both me and the Void Creator."
THE VOID'S ARRIVAL: THE END OF ALL THINGS
The moment the words left Nielan's lips, reality itself split apart.
From the abyss between dimensions, the Void Creator emerged—a being of absolute negation, a force older than time. Its fist, wreathed in the essence of oblivion, struck Krelious with a force that annihilated half the Multiverse in an instant.
Stars died. Realities collapsed.
Krelious—the invincible, the unconquerable—was sent hurtling through the wreckage of existence, his body a comet of divine fury, crashing toward the very entrance of the Universe itself.
And in that moment, the true battle began.
The Final Confrontation: Krelious and the End of All Things.
The air crackled with the weight of shattered realities, the remnants of countless universes swirling like embers in the aftermath of a cosmic wildfire. Krelious, his body bathed in the eerie glow of dying stars, steadied himself amidst the chaos. His chest rose and fell with deliberate calm, the fury in his eyes tempered by a chilling resolve. Across the abyss, the Void Creator loomed, a silhouette of infinite darkness, while Nielan—once a brother, now a betrayer—bared his teeth in a snarl that promised annihilation.
Krelious allowed himself a smile. It was not kind.
"I was ready to forgive you, Nielan," he roared, his voice a thunderclap that split the silence between worlds. "But power is all you crave. Authority has hollowed you. You'd slaughter even me to claim it."
Nielan's laughter was a blade of venom. "F*ck you, Krelious! The Void and I will carve your name from history!"
The Narrator's voice resonated like a dirge: There would be no mercy here.
With a speed that defied time itself, the two adversaries surged forward. The Void Creator moved like a storm given form, tendrils of oblivion lashing at the fabric of existence. Nielan was a comet of rage, his fists wreathed in stolen divinity. Yet Krelious—Krelious was inevitability.
He danced between their strikes, a specter of precision. When Nielan overextended, Krelious seized the moment. His punch was not merely physical; it was judgment incarnate. The impact echoed across dimensions, a shockwave of pure wrath that sent Nielan spiraling into the Starverse, his body a broken puppet hurled into the infinite.
Now, only the Void remained.
Their battle rewrote physics. Fists collided with the force of collapsing galaxies; kicks split dimensional barriers. The last fragments of the multiverse trembled as they clashed—a duel of titans where every blow erased another pocket of creation.
Frustration twisted the Void Creator's form. "Enough!" it bellowed, weaving a spell older than time. Reality itself recoiled as it unleashed "Linger, Dragon of the Abyss!"—a curse that devoured all light, all hope. The spell struck Krelious in a cataclysm of darkness, detonating with enough force to unravel millions of dimensions. The Starverse imploded, its screams silent in the vacuum.
The Witnesses: Planet Xian's Horror
On the lone surviving world, Xian, the survivors gaped at the sky.
Akermos staggered, his voice raw. "Two verses… gone in an instant."
Zion clutched his head. "Why side with the Void? What madness is this?"
Tavis, blinded and paralyzed by Krelious' earlier wrath, whimpered. "What's happening? Someone—anyone—answer me!" But the others were statues, bound by dread.
Dainen's whisper was a razor. "Don't tell me… he survived that."
Zielan pointed to the heavens, where the Ruler's Palm—a sigil of Krelious' dominion—still burned defiantly. "Look. It's active. He's alive."
Nealon exhaled. "We're spectators to the end. We can't even blink."
The Dust Settles.
The explosion's echoes faded. The Void Creator's form flickered, its voice a tremor of disbelief.
"You took my two strongest spells… head-on." The words were ash in its mouth. "How? How?!"
From the swirling debris, Krelious emerged. Unscathed. Unbroken. His smile widened as the chapter closed, a silent vow etched in starlight.
NEXT CHAPTER ✓
ACT 9: I AM KRELIOUS.