The desert cracked under the pressure of two titans.
The night sky was black, empty, no stars daring to shine on this disgraceful battle.
George Droyd flexed once — and the ground shattered beneath his feet.
Divine Black Fent coursed through every cell of his body.
Smoke poured from his nose like a dragon.
NiggaLink AI buzzed in his ear:
"Cuh you built DIFFERENT now mane!!"
"We up nigga!! WE UP!!!"
Sunny, still powered by the Simp God, floated a few meters away, radiant with pathetic pink light, tears still dripping down his cheeks.
His whole body shook — not from fear, but from raw simpcuck devotion.
His energy pulsed erratically, like a virgin trying to impress his crush at prom.
George spat blood into the dirt, grinned wide, and growled:
"Lil whiteboy lookin' like a emotional tampon, mane."
"Come get yo ass beat."
Sunny shrieked like a banshee and shot forward.
Their fists collided, sending out a shockwave that leveled dunes miles away.
The battle began.
Sunny swung wild, tears flying off his face with every punch.
"I LOVED HER, NIGGA!!"
"I LOVED HER MORE THAN LIFE!!!"
"WHY DID YOU TAKE HER AWAY?!"
George blocked casually, yawning mid-swing.
"Nigga she dead cuh, move on damn."
"Talkin' bout love n shit like it's 8th grade, you corny mothafucka."
Sunny's pink aura exploded around him.
He caught George with a wild uppercut — jaw snapping back.
George staggered.
"Aight lil bro," he chuckled, cracking his neck back into place,
"You got a lil sauce on that one. But you still a bitch."
Sunny went feral, pounding George's chest with desperate blows.
Each strike dented George's armor, cracked ribs, ruptured organs —
but the Overgod Fent just repaired him instantly.
"Nigga, this the best you got??" George laughed, blood spraying from his mouth.
"Hit harder, BITCH!!"
He grabbed Sunny mid-punch — and headbutted him so hard teeth exploded out of Sunny's mouth.
Blood gushed from Sunny's nose.
He shrieked and bit George's shoulder like a wild animal.
George threw his head back and howled laughing.
"YOU BITIN' NIGGAS NOW?"
"FUCKIN SIMP VAMPIRE-ASS BOY!!!"
in the satellite:
"Holy shit," Zuckerberg whispered, pale as milk. "This isn't a battle, it's a war crime."
Bill Gates leaned forward, voice trembling:
"Droyd's exceeding every combat threshold. Reactor operating at 600% capacity. NiggaLink AI is stabilizing the Fent pulses perfectly."
"We might actually win," Zuck said, voice full of hope.
Back in the dirt — George picked Sunny up by the throat.
Sunny flailed helplessly, kicking his little legs.
George mockingly dangled him like a rabbit.
"C'mon bro swing them lil bitch fists!" George roared, laughing.
Sunny howled.
The Simp Power flared — a massive pink heart-shaped explosion blasted George back, ripping layers of skin off his chest.
Sunny dropped to his knees, sobbing.
"WHY!!!"
"WHY AM I STILL SO PATHETIC!!"
George, lying in a crater, chuckled darkly.
"Cuz you was born a bitch lil bro. Ain't no superpower fix that."
Sunny crawled forward, his simpcuck energy growing unstable.
He gathered all his strength into one final pathetic charge — sprinting towards Droyd
George stood up, one eye swollen shut, teeth missing.
He smiled.
NiggaLink AI whispered:
"He open, cuh. Fold his dumbass."
George nodded.
Sunny threw a wild punch.
George caught his wrist —
and ripped his entire arm off.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
Sunny screamed like a dying piglet.
George beat him over the head with his own arm, laughing so hard tears leaked down his filthy face.
"TAKE YO ARM BACK, BITCH!!" he roared, smashing Sunny into the ground.
Sunny tried to crawl away.
George stepped on his back, cracking his spine.
"Ain't no running now, nigga."
"You finna catch the full Fent overdose."
George raised his fist — veins bulging, black fent energy swirling around it.
Sunny rolled over, broken, pathetic, still crying.
"I j-just...wanted her to love me..." he sobbed, blood bubbling from his lips.
George stared down at him, smiling almost gently.
"That's the saddest shit I ever heard in my life cuh."
And he brought his fist down —
right into Sunny's chest —
shattering ribs, heart, soul.
The desert trembled.
Sunny's body spasmed once — then went limp.
George stood there, panting, blood dripping from every inch of him.
NiggaLink AI whispered:
"Mission complete, cuh."
In the satellite, Bill Gates and Zuckerberg stood up in triumph.
"HE DID IT!!"
"THAT BLACK NIGGA DID IT!!!"
They cheered, high-fiving awkwardly like two awkward tech bros.
George stumbled forward, body half-dead.
As he sat down, George felt the presence of a being infinitely more powerful than him.
Weaver, the ancient Daemon of Fate, appeared cloaked in a flowing black robe, face hidden beneath an impossible mask of swirling silk.
He bowed low, voice rich and dripping with cold amusement:
"My dear, depraved nigga," Weaver said, elegant yet somehow full of venom. "You have entertained me beyond belief."
George blinked, swaying slightly.
Weaver raised a long finger.
"The Divine Fent... that which your heart craves... lies yonder," he said, pointing toward a distant mountain crowned in stormclouds. "Climb, Drogas. Conquer. Consume."
George grinned, fent-mad eyes gleaming.
"Say less cuh."
"I'm finna get litty as a titty."
Without hesitation, George Droyd blasted into the sky — a black comet rocketing toward his next high.
Weaver watched him go, chuckling to himself.
"May you succeed, my sweet little junkie demon."
And with a flicker of shadow, Weaver vanished.
Meanwhile...
In the ruins of the battlefield, a puddle of blackness quivered.
A shadow stirred.
Sunny had not died.
At the very last moment, as George's fatal punch came down, he had surrendered fully to the shadows.
His body perished, but his soul… endured.
The shadow slithered across the sand, broken, aimless, until it found a crack in the world —
an ancient fissure where darkness itself seeped from the depths.
Sunny stumbled into the fallen citadel of the Shadow God.
The place was empty.
On the far wall, illuminated by the cold light of a dying moon, there were words carved deep into obsidian stone:
"No matter how far one strays... it is never too late to choose the right path."
Sunny stared at the words for a long time.
Memories flooded him:
— His endless simping.
— The pathetic devotion.
— Begging Nephis for attention.
— Fighting and crying and losing again and again.
— Being a hypocrite that couldn't control his feelings and hated everyone that offended his girlfriend.
He had been a clown.
A fool.
He sank to his knees and wept — but not for love lost.
For the time he had wasted.
Minutes passed.
Hours.
Finally, he stood.
He took off his tattered pink scarf — the last symbol of his old self — and laid it down before the writing.
"I leave my weakness here," he whispered.
The shadows of the citadel stirred.
Power surged into him — slow and steady, filling every crack inside his broken soul.
He became more than a man.
He became a true Sovereign of Shadow.
His body reformed, darker and sharper, burning with a cold black fire.
Sunny opened his eyes, and the world trembled.
He returned to the site where he had fallen —
gazed down at Nephis' broken body, lying still and silent in the blood-soaked sand.
There was no sobbing now.
No pitiful whining.
Just a single look.
One last goodbye.
He turned away and lifted his head to the stormy sky.
George Droyd was out there, chasing the Divine Fent.
And Sunny — Sovereign of Shadows, no longer a fool — would follow.
He melted into the shadows —
and the hunt began.