Stardust Breaker
A crimson planet loomed in the distant expanse of the galaxy, its surface shattered, burning, and writhing under an unholy storm. Volcanoes spewed molten rivers that devoured the land. Earthquakes split the ground as if the planet itself were screaming, and the atmosphere reeked of catastrophe.
Amid the chaos, a once-feared race ran in panic, defenseless against the nightmare. Their headquarters, meant to be a bastion of strength, had become a tomb. Even the universe seemed to shudder, holding its breath in terror.
In the heart of the storm stood a figure—a man, if he could even be called that. Red hair, red robes, two horns crowning his head, and a sword that seemed to devour the very light around it. Every step was a dance of death. Every swing of his blade tore screams from the air.
The battlefield became his symphony. Wails of terror became music to his ears. "Kill… kill… kill…" he murmured, each syllable a pulse of death, every movement reshaping the world in his image of chaos.
Opposite him, the supposed general of this powerful race—once revered and feared—lay broken. Bloodied, battered, every part of him screaming defeat, he staggered to his knees. "Who… who are you?" he stammered, terror and disbelief twisting his features.
The red-haired man's gaze fell upon him, calm but lethal. Then came the words, chilling in their absurdity:
"I AM YOUR DADDY. CALL ME THE BIG DADDY."
It was not a name, but a proclamation of chaos, a warning to all who dared oppose him.
He drove his sword into the general's chest, crouched back, and gripped the hilt like a conductor commanding a symphony of death.
"The first stage of the Anglican Series… STARDUST BREAKER."
The planet went silent. All running, screaming beings froze. Terror unlike any other pressed into their hearts, heavier than any weight, colder than any fear.
Then, a foreign energy descended from above. The sky shattered like glass. Horrid screams erupted as bodies evaporated, their souls denied rest. The planet was obliterated—not just its surface, but its very atoms—erased from existence. Not even the general survived.
Through it all, the red-haired man sheathed his sword. Calm. Taunting. Terrifying. "Yare yare… I had to hold back. Master said he needs it."
Amid the ruins, a throne of bones awaited. Upon it sat the true master—the real protagonist. His gaze, nonchalant and commanding, scanned the devastation. When his eyes met the red-haired man's, a silent acknowledgment passed between them.
"Master… it is done," he bowed.
The master smiled. Beautiful, terrifying, and unknowable. "This is just the beginning," he said. His voice echoed across the ruins.
"LET THE CHAOS BEGIN."
The universe held its breath, for it had glimpsed the rise of true catastrophe.