Time shattered.
Space wept.
The final clash had begun.
Arin charged.
Her broken sword dragged behind her,
the blade glowing white-hot from the burning of her life force.
Every step tore her body apart.
Every breath shattered another piece of her soul.
Above her heart, the last fragment of her Light Sigil pulsed wildly —
unstable, deadly, beautiful.
Shattered Light.
A forbidden Sigil.
A weapon not designed to protect the world.
A weapon designed to kill gods —
even if it killed the wielder in the process.
Across the broken battlefield,
Asura stood.
The dark crown of the Abyss hovered above him.
The Abyssal Genesis Ritual howled around him,
tearing apart the ruins of reality,
unraveling existence itself thread by thread.
The System roared in his mind:
[Abyssal Genesis: 89% Completion.]
[Final Restructure Event Imminent.]
[WARNING: Anomaly Detected.]
He saw her coming.
Not with fear.
Not with anger.
But with something closer to sorrow.
The last light.
The last hope.
The last defiance.
Arin screamed.
A broken, bloodied scream that tore the sky apart.
Her Light Sigil exploded outward —
a supernova of burning gold and white,
a storm of impossible light screaming against the endless abyss.
The shattered battlefield shook.
Ruins collapsed into dust.
The dying stars overhead flickered and died.
Asura raised his hand —
the Abyss swirling around him like a living shield.
But the Shattered Light pierced through it.
The impact was cataclysmic.
Reality itself cracked.
Time fractured — memories, futures, and broken dreams raining down like shattered glass.
Space twisted — entire chunks of the world folding inside out and collapsing.
Gravity dissolved — the earth splintering into islands of screaming, burning stone.
In the heart of it all,
Light and Abyss collided.
Arin and Asura slammed into each other.
Not just bodies.
Not just weapons.
Souls.
Dreams.
Ruins.
The explosion was not sound.
It was silence.
A deafening, all-consuming silence that swallowed everything.
When the light cleared…
Nothing moved.
Floating islands of stone drifted through a broken sky.
Ash fell like rain.
The remains of the world spun endlessly through the abyss.
And at the center of it all…
Two figures knelt.
Arin.
Bleeding.
Breathing shallow.
Her Light Sigil cracked and burned into her flesh.
Her sword shattered into dust in her hand.
Her body broken beyond repair.
Asura.
Silent.
Breathing heavily.
Cracks running across the black markings on his body.
His crown flickering.
His abyss trembling.
Both broken.
Both dying.
Both refusing to kneel.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.
No words.
No hatred.
Only the understanding of two dreamers who had burned their worlds for their dreams.
And the battle was not over yet.
Slowly, painfully,
they stood.
The final blows were coming.
The final breaths.
The final choice.
The end was near.
And neither would surrender.