The sky… shattered.
Not a metaphor. Not an illusion.
The fracture was real—splitting the horizon like glass no longer able to withstand the pressure from something beyond it. A thin black line spread slowly, then widened, expanding, and finally—
—BOOOOM!!!
The first explosion shook the entire world.
But even before its echo could fade, a second wave struck. Heavier. Deeper. More absolute.
The الأرض itself lifted from its roots.
The air split into unseen layers.
Light and darkness collided like two concepts refusing to share existence.
And at the center of it all—
Arkhavel… and the Outer God… finally met.
There was no movement the eye could catch.
No transition.
Only the result.
—KRAAAAAK!!!
The space between them collapsed.
Not merely broken—but destroyed from within, as if something beyond the laws of reality pressed in from the other side. Fragments of existence tore free, spinning aimlessly before vanishing before they could even fall.
As if existence itself… was being rejected.
The Outer God smiled faintly.
His expression was light—almost relaxed—as though the destruction around him was nothing more than an insignificant backdrop.
"Fast."
His voice hadn't even finished—
—BOOM!!!
Arkhavel was already in front of him.
No trace.
No warning.
Just one punch.
Direct.
Clean.
For the first time—
the Outer God's head… shifted.
His body was pushed back a few steps—enough to make the sky behind him collapse, unable to withstand the pressure of a single strike.
And yet—
No wound.
No blood.
No damage.
The Outer God chuckled softly.
"Interesting."
In an instant—
the counterattack came.
His hand appeared on Arkhavel's chest.
Not moved.
Not struck.
But… already there.
—DOOOOM!!!
Arkhavel's body was blown away.
But the ground beneath him did not shatter.
Did not crack.
Did not collapse.
It… was erased.
A long line carved across the surface of the world, stretching beyond sight—as if the world itself had been dragged by a force that should not exist.
And yet—
Arkhavel stopped.
His feet planted… on empty air.
No footing.
No support.
Yet he stood.
His gaze calm.
Unshaken.
Untouched.
As if what had just happened… wasn't enough to move him.
In the distance—
the army could only watch.
They were no longer even on the same battlefield.
Each residual shockwave alone was enough to tear apart a normal human body without mercy.
"…This isn't a battle," Sirius muttered, his voice nearly swallowed by the crushing pressure.
"…this is a disaster."
Veil stood beside him.
Silent.
His eyes never left the center of destruction.
Words… were no longer enough.
Back at the center—
the Outer God raised his hand.
A simple motion.
But the effect—
was not.
The space around him began to bend.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Like fabric being twisted by an invisible hand.
Layer by layer, reality folded, compressed, and lost its original shape.
"Behold…"
His voice echoed across the battlefield.
Not from one direction—
but from all directions.
"The difference between us."
His hand clenched.
—CRACK!!!
Space collapsed—
not shattered.
Not broken.
But folded.
Crushed.
And then—
thrown.
The distorted mass of space itself shot toward Arkhavel like existence forced into a weapon.
And yet—
Arkhavel stepped forward.
No evasion.
No defense.
He… approached.
His aura changed.
No longer just pressure.
No longer just power.
But something deeper.
Older.
Wilder.
A colossal dragon silhouette appeared behind him.
Not fully clear.
Not fully real.
But enough to make the already fractured sky tremble once more.
His hand rose.
And—
SLASHED.
—SHRRRAAAAAK!!!
The folded space… split apart.
Not destroyed.
Not repelled.
But… rejected.
As if the very concept of "folding"… did not apply to him.
For the first time—
the Outer God's smile faded.
Not from pain.
Not from fear.
But from… uncertainty.
Arkhavel vanished.
No trace.
No residue.
No distortion.
Only—
absence.
And in the next instant—
—BOOOOM!!!
He appeared behind the Outer God.
A second strike.
Heavier.
Deeper.
More real.
A black crack formed across the Outer God's face.
Thin.
But undeniable.
Like a vessel… beginning to fail.
"…Oh?"
His tone shifted.
Slightly.
But enough to signal that something had changed.
Another attack came.
And another.
And another.
—BOOM!
—BOOM!!
—BOOM!!!
Each impact didn't just shake the air—
it shook the world.
Gravity distorted.
Direction lost meaning.
Time… slowed… skipped… fractured.
For the first time—
the Outer God was pushed back.
Forced to defend.
Forced to receive.
But then—
everything stopped.
Not because Arkhavel stopped—
but because—
his hand… was halted.
Not caught.
Not blocked.
But—
the space around it… froze.
Like time refusing to move.
Like reality refusing to change.
"Enough."
The Outer God's voice changed.
Deeper.
Heavier.
Older.
The cracks on his body widened.
But not as destruction—
as release.
"If this vessel is insufficient…"
His eyes darkened.
Not losing light—
but devouring it.
"…then I will take more."
The sky… turned black.
Not darkness.
Not night.
But the absolute absence of light.
The stars went out.
One by one.
Silently.
Without warning.
As if something beyond the sky… had opened its eyes.
And this world…
was not strong enough to keep shining before it.
Pressure descended.
From above.
From below.
From all directions.
The entire world… compressed.
Crushed.
Forced to shrink beneath a presence that should not exist.
In the distance—
soldiers began to collapse.
Some fell to their knees.
Some lost consciousness entirely.
Their bodies could not endure that weight of existence.
Even Sirius clenched his teeth, veins bulging along his neck.
"…This is a different level…"
And yet—
Arkhavel still stood.
No retreat.
No trembling.
No effect.
He looked up.
Directly at the source.
Then—
he exhaled.
Slowly.
Deeply.
As if he had long been waiting for this.
"…Finally."
His eyes ignited.
Not light.
Not darkness.
But something deeper than both.
Vaster.
Endless.
"It's been a long time… since I last fought seriously."
His aura erupted.
But not as destruction.
Not as devastation.
But as revelation.
Layer by layer, the power he had long sealed began to unfold.
More pure.
More primordial.
The shadow behind him changed.
No longer just a dragon.
No longer just a form.
But something that coiled.
Without beginning.
Without end.
Without limit.
A concept.
A cycle.
A being beyond time itself.
"…Ouroboros," the Outer God whispered.
For the first time—
there was acknowledgment in his voice.
Arkhavel stepped forward.
Light.
Yet every step shook reality.
"Try to endure."
His voice calm—
but absolute.
"If you can."
And then—
they vanished.
No sound.
No light.
No movement.
Only—
a momentary void.
As if the world… stopped breathing.
And in the next instant—
REALITY… SHATTERED.