Half of the city lay in ruins, buildings reduced to rubble and streets littered with debris. Fires burned in the distance, smoke rising into the darkened sky. The air was thick with dust, blood, and the lingering stench of destruction.
Elder demons roamed the wreckage, their hollow eyes scanning for survivors. They moved with purpose, driven by voracity and conquest, claiming what was left of the city.
Flickering screens crackled with broken news reports. Mister End had erased the false gods. Every last one. Their altars had crumbled, their power wiped from existence.
Now, only a few remain to fight. The end was near, and humanity stood on the brink of extinction.
"I see so you are the last remaining beacon of hope of this forsaken world, would you mind telling your name?"
Mister End stepped forward, his grin unwavering. With a slow, deliberate motion, he extended a hand, a gesture both polite and unsettling. His eyes studied his opponent with quiet amusement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
This wasn't just courtesy—it was the start of something far more dangerous.
"You can call me The Narrator, or should I say Mr. Smiley. I have many names as they said."
"I see, let's commence then, the last battle of hope and despair." Mister End and The Narrator grinned at each other, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. In an instant, they lunged, clashing with explosive force.
One moment, magic crackled around them, spells tearing through the air. The next, bullets flew, sharp and precise. As they closed in, their movements became sharper, deadlier—blades flashing in rapid strikes.
Each blow shook the ground, the sky above them darkening with every clash. Lightning crackled, illuminating their battle for a split second before fading into the growing storm.
"You're a formidable foe, I can tell. Which means this next phase will be a lot serious." Mister End declares another heavy pressure of his power.
"How about we seal each other's abilities leaving only fighting capabilities?" The Narrator suggests.
"What a splendid idea! Let's do it then..." Their weapons clashed, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. They broke apart, only to charge again, switching seamlessly from guns to blades, from long-range attacks to close combat.
Bullets tore through the air, then vanished as they closed the distance, dodging and striking with deadly precision. Each move was faster, each blow sharper, their battle growing fiercer by the second.
The ground cracked beneath them, the sky darkened overhead. Neither slowed. Neither faltered. Only the fight remained.
Mister End's strikes came harder, faster—each blow reverberating through the battlefield like a thunderclap. The force behind his attacks cracked the ground, sending debris flying with every collision. His grin never wavered, but his movements grew sharper, more relentless.
The Narrator staggered. His breath came in ragged gasps as he parried, but each block sent a tremor through his arms. Then—a flash of steel. A sharp sting. Blood sprayed into the air as Mister End's blade found its mark, carving a deep gash across his side.
He stumbled back, his vision blurring for a moment. The warmth of his own blood seeped through his clothes, trailing down his skin in thick, crimson lines. Yet, Mister End only pressed forward, eyes glinting with merciless intent. The fight was shifting. And The Narrator was running out of time.
Mister End loomed like a silhouette in the dim light, his presence eerie and unwavering. His strike came first—a crushing blow that sent the Narrator staggering. Before the pain could register, a sharp sting followed. Cold steel pierced through his back, high up near the shoulder. A gasp escaped his lips as his strength drained away. The world tilted, and darkness crept in.
"You amused me, what are your last words, or any requests before you die."
"Can you give this world enough time to battle you... I sensed a far better warrior than me, if you managed to defeat me, I'll give you my power..."
"I understand now. You coward, this... Your form is half of your ability. Tch, fine." Mister End smashes his head leaving chunks of flesh such as the brain and stuff, cracked skull, and blood.
"Now can I get the duel, Sarah?"
"Alright, if you lose let's have a date again."
" You mean torture fine."