The world cracked.
Not in metaphor.
Not in poetry.
In reality.
Dark spires of abyss erupted across the dying lands,
tearing apart continents,
ripping the very veins of the earth open.
Cities were swallowed by gaping maws of shadow.
Oceans boiled and screamed as gravity faltered.
The stars overhead fractured like shattered glass,
their broken light bleeding down like rain.
At the center of the apocalypse,
Asura stood.
Silent.
Unmoving.
Unforgiving.
The System's voice thundered across the ruins:
[Abyssal Genesis Ritual — Phase Two Activated.]
[World Restructure: 51% Complete.]
[Natural Laws: Collapsing.]
The ground beneath Arin's feet broke apart —
massive chasms opening around her.
The sky above twisted —
time itself spasming and looping.
Still, she stood.
Still, she moved.
Still, she fought.
Her sword was cracked.
Her armor was ash.
Her soul was bleeding.
But she refused to fall.
Arin charged up the crumbling steps of a collapsing tower,
each step a battle against gravity itself.
The ruins twisted in impossible directions —
walls folding sideways,
time reversing and replaying the deaths of her comrades in endless loops.
She saw the boy with the broken sword —
falling again.
And again.
And again.
She saw the mothers torn apart by shadow —
over and over.
Pain tore through her mind.
Grief tried to drown her.
The world itself begged her to give up.
But she refused.
Because somewhere ahead,
standing atop the shattered corpse of reality,
was the boy she had sworn to fight.
Arin screamed her defiance.
The sound tore through the chaos —
a single note of resistance against the symphony of collapse.
Asura finally moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He raised one hand —
and the Ritual surged forward.
Darkness blossomed across the sky,
devouring what little light remained.
Reality wept.
The old world screamed.
The future bled away.
And still Arin charged.
A single broken star falling toward the end of everything.
As she ran, her mind spiraled.
"Why am I fighting?"
"There's nothing left to save."
"There's nothing left to protect."
But another voice —
small, shattered, stubborn —
answered back.
"Because there is still something left worth dying for.
Because even if hope dies —
It deserves to die standing.
Not kneeling."
She burned her life force.
She burned her dreams.
She burned her past.
And she charged.
Asura watched her come.
Silent.
Distant.
Inevitable.
Inside his mind, for the first time,
there was a flicker.
Not hesitation.
Not fear.
Memory.
Of another broken child.
Of another ruined world.
Of another path that might have been.
He crushed the memory.
He crushed the boy.
He crushed the past.
And he raised his hand toward her.
The final collision neared.
Light against Abyss.
Hope against Silence.
Dream against Ruin.
The world ended.
And the final battle began.