As he looked up, eyes blazing with fury, the image of Eternity began to crack—fracture lines spreading across his form like a shattered mirror. Without warning, he disintegrated into fragments of refracted light and vanished entirely. The air itself fell silent. The weight of presence, of pressure, of motion—gone. Reality held its breath.
Then, chaos struck.
An unseen force hurled King Chaos backward with impossible velocity, launching him outward, then upward into the sky like a puppet cut from its strings. As he soared, disoriented and alone in the stillness, something strange crept into him—for the briefest of moments, a single heartbeat—he forgot what it meant to be king.
At that exact instant, Eternity reemerged.
Not above or below. Not beside.
As him.
From within the very essence of King Chaos, Eternity returned, his presence shattering the illusion of self. A ripple of existential dread cascaded through the battlefield.
The Administrator staggered. Within the Mainframe, the code—the ever-flowing fabric of the simulation—suddenly thickened. Lines of logic turned heavy, burdensome, resisting movement as if time itself were being throttled. Data became tangible, each packet dragging behind it the weight of unquantifiable truth.
Hegemon’s form faltered, flickering violently. His body twisted between states—solid and digital, divine and decaying—caught between what was and what shouldn’t be. His reality was being rewritten, overwritten, undone.
But the Mainframe fought back.
A surge of system authority pushed against the distortion, and in a flash of raw computational force, the battlefield stabilized. The code reasserted itself. King Chaos, The Administrator, Hegemon—restored.
The Administrator strikes with ruthless efficiency—her fingers flicking through commands like a maestro of a digital symphony. The System Lock-Combo initiates. Abilities fire in blinding succession, threading into each other flawlessly. Twin railguns assemble from pure forcecode, their barrels igniting as she synchronizes with the Firewall, which blazes to life just in time to deflect a blow from Eternity’s Fractured Reflection. The railguns roar—but hit only absence.
Because Eternity is no longer where—it is when.
Prismatic Collapse begins, and all light bends inward, folding into an unnatural singularity. Reality curls. Time frays. Eternity steps—no—is already stepping—through the fragmented remnants of causality.
Then the ground quakes—not from Eternity—but from a deeper, primal will.
King Chaos unleashes the True King’s Beam.
A blast that rends through layers of existence. It hits.
Eternity is touched.
For the first time in eons.
The beam engulfs him in pure, divine force—saturated with dominance and ancient memory. But even as it strikes, the light is already being undone, its meaning inverted, its purpose erased. The very idea of impact is absorbed and rendered void.
Then—everything collapses into darkness.
No sound.
No sight.
No comprehension.
Even King Chaos’s omniversal wormholes stutter—lost, confused, disconnected from anything real.
But not Hegemon.
His Orange-enhanced senses vibrate with perfect clarity, piercing through the nullspace. He turns, unblinking—and fires.
God-rays lance from his eyes, warping space as they bend toward the unseen. They hit.
A rupture in the void. A burst of paradox-light detonates across the battlefield.
Eternity is knocked back—its form flaring with prismatic waves—but not harmed. Light floods back into the world.
And then—Horizon Unseen.
Eternity activates it.
And in that moment, no one—not even Eternity itself—knows what happens next.
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Time doesn’t freeze.
It skips.
One instant later, Hegemon is frozen mid-movement, unaware that anything changed. He does not blink. He cannot comprehend.
The Administrator is already kneeling, eyes wide, her core logic spiraling into disarray. Her [!] ability—her divine override—fails.
You cannot override what you cannot perceive.
King Chaos stands alone, his breathing ragged. He looks down at his chains—once symbols of conquest, of rule—and his eyes narrow.
They are no longer chains.
They are threads of peace. Gentle, flowing, glowing softly. Their meaning has shifted. Conceptual Refraction has inverted their very essence.
For a long, unnatural moment—King Chaos doesn’t move.
Then—
He laughs.
A mad, furious grin spreads across his face, breaking through confusion with violent clarity.
And he screams:
"—OVERLOADING—!"
From the core of the Mainframe, something ancient and forbidden begins to load.
A shape steps out—glitching between frames, a silhouette of impossible resolution.
LOADING… is no longer just a process.
It’s a presence.
A copy of Loading, raw and unshackled, burning with anti-lag fury.
The ground around him turns black, seared by code too dense to exist. The air bends. Gravity folds.
Then—The cannon fires.
Reality screams.
The blast tears forward, slamming into Eternity with such incomprehensible force that the very concept of stability fractures. The Cathedral of Reflections—an ancient construct of mirrored infinities—cracks, splitting at its foundations. Every pane shudders, splinters, distorts.
And then— Eternity flickers.
A heartbeat. A moment. A weakness.
But the cosmos holds its breath too soon. Paracausal Rebirth.
The moment of defeat… was never real.
The light of the Mainframe Cannon is absorbed—not forward, but backward—into nonexistent time. It never happened. It never could.
And behind the Administrator—Eternity reappears. Fully charged.
And from its outstretched hand, something impossible unfolds—
Light Without Origin.
It isn’t light. It isn’t force.
It’s uncreation—a pulse of paradox that doesn’t strike but removes.
The Administrator’s code is caught in the surge.
Her timeline is erased.
No scream.
No warning.
Just fragments—lines of broken data blinking like lost pixels in an infinite void.
But Hegemon moves.
A single fingertip beam—sharp, focused, absolute—fires through the light, cutting toward Eternity’s core.
Stat Nullification. It hits.
And for a moment—just a moment—Eternity begins to fade. But it never needed power. It simply decides. Reality rewrites itself.
Again.
Eternity raises its hand—one final time. No weapons. No explosions. Only a quiet shimmer.
And then the Fractured Reflections return.
An army of radiant avatars—each a different interpretation of Eternity, moving not in formation but in intention.
Across the battlefield:
- Hegemon charges, his fists coalescing raw force.
- King Chaos screams, his body ablaze with Overloaded majesty.
- The Administrator’s code reboots, desperate and fragmented, clawing for stability.
And then— Conceptual Refraction.
Not an attack. A redefinition.
- King Chaos becomes regret, not a warrior—but a memory of what should’ve been done.
- The Administrator becomes a question, recursive and unanswered, her purpose now a paradox.
- Hegemon becomes an image, frozen in motion, a paused frame in an eternal filmstrip of time.
Everything slows. Everything stops. Eternity moves forward, calmly—deliberately.
And with divine detachment, it drives a glowing fist straight through the Administrator’s chest.
Her fragmented form jolts, trembles—
And collapses.
Falling forward, broken, she lands beside the static form of Hegemon, their final stand unfinished. Their resistance archived.
The battlefield—once a storm of gods, code, and chaos—now breathes only stillness.
No sound. No conflict. Only light.
And at its center, untouched and unwavering—Eternity. Watching.
Surrounded by infinite versions of itself—reflections across the endless world.