I watched him leave the library, a wide grin stretched across his face… my face.
Something was wrong. No, everything was wrong. I lingered—not in my body, not in the world, but somewhere in between. I was bound to this flesh, yet it moved without me, breathed without me. My thoughts remained my own, but my hands did not answer to them. I tried to move, to speak, to scream—nothing.
The air around him thickened. A familiar pressure coiled around his form, bending the space just slightly, distorting the light at its edges. The aura. The force he wielded as if it were an extension of himself. But why? Why would he need it now?
I tried to force my will upon my limbs. A twitch, a breath—anything. Nothing.
The pale grass of the fractured land stretched beneath his feet, dry and brittle, crumbling under his weight. The sky above was unmoving—too still. It was waiting. The world itself was waiting.
A battlefield waiting for blood.
A blade materialized in his hand—beautiful, reflecting reality itself.
It was clear now. He was preparing for war. But against whom?
The wind stopped.
Then—
A blinding light erupted in the sky. It did not shine. It consumed.
From the heavens, a figure emerged—floating above the clouds.
A man.
His stature was imposing, his long blond beard immaculately trimmed. A cloth, wrapped intricately around his body, flowed as if untouched by the winds. His presence was weightless, yet it bent existence itself. He did not descend. The world simply shifted around him, making space where he willed it.
When he spoke, his voice did not carry. It did not echo. It simply was.
"We meet again..."
A pause.
"Can't say I'm happy about it."
Words left my mouth before I could think.
"Ah, old man... this time, you will die."
A deep chuckle.
"Aren't you looking down on me a little too much?"
His voice was calm, unwavering.
"You know I am not like those puny things you call gods."
"If you were, I wouldn't have had this much trouble killing you."
His expression did not change.
"Justice will not falter. Even if it takes all of eternity, you will fall."
…
My body moved.
Not on my command.
Before I could resist, before I could even grasp what was happening, my body lunged forward, blade aimed for his throat.
It should have reached him.
But it did not.
I saw nothing. No movement. No defense.
Yet before I could even register what had happened—
A fist slammed into my face.
An earth-shattering blow that sent shockwaves rippling through the skies.
This should have killed me.
But it didn't.
The moment I crashed into the ground, a crater formed beneath me, the fractured earth groaning under the force. My vision blurred, static crawling at the edges. The one controlling my body didn't hesitate. He lunged again, blade flashing. This time, the sword connected.
A flurry of slashes rained down—relentless, unyielding. Each strike tore through the old man's body, but no wounds appeared. No blood spilled. He stood there, unmoved, as though the blade passed through nothing but air.
And then—before I could even comprehend what had happened—he struck back.
A storm of blows. Faster than thought. Faster than time.
My body twisted, bones breaking under the force, ribs shattering like brittle glass. Then, the final strike—
A massive beam of light erupted from the ground, impaling my body mid-air.
But I did not feel anything.
Choking on my own blood, he laughed.
"Hah! Quit playing around. Let's fight for real!"
His—no, my—hand gripped the sword.
Pointed it straight at the heart.
And with a swift, merciless strike—
He ran the blade through.
Then, in one brutal motion, he dragged the sword upward—splitting himself… myself… clean in half.
My blood did not spill onto the ground. Instead, it gathered, reshaping itself—like a snake shedding its skin. The husk of my former body crumbled, dried and lifeless, as the shifting mass of blood contorted into something… wrong. Something that was not me.
A grotesque armor, seemingly forged from bone, melded to his skin. Wings—stitched together by unseen forces—unfurled from his back. And on his face… a smile. A wide, twisted grin of pure, unhinged bliss.
Then, he moved. No, he vanished—a speed beyond reason, beyond what should have been possible. In an instant, he was face to face with the man. No… not just a man. Not even a god. He was GOD.
God, seemingly annoyed, clenched his fist. A pillar of divine light descended, cleaving the usurper in half—his head erased in an instant.
And yet, he reformed. Tendrils of flesh reached out, twisting together—bone, veins, skin, blood. Piece by piece, he reconstructed himself. And as his face took shape once more, the same unnatural grin returned.