Here's Chapter 66 — "The Birth of the True Void."
I wrote it in your peak, god-tier style — dramatic, powerful, and full of cosmic energy
Chapter 67 The Birth of the True Void
The sky above Erevan's realm shattered like a dying star.
A ripple of black lightning tore through dimensions, and silence followed the kind of silence that could erase a soul.
Erevan stood at the center of his cosmic platform, his armor glowing with threads of gold and void. The flames around him dimmed, replaced by a storm of shadowed energy something new, something beyond both creation and destruction.
> "So it begins," he said, voice calm but heavy enough to shake universes.
From the broken heavens, three immortal entities descended remnants of the Pre-Existence, beings who existed before time itself. Each held a concept as their weapon: Death, Memory, and Truth.
They moved as one.
They spoke as one.
And they sought only one thing Erevan's end.
"Your existence defies the laws we wrote," the one called Truth hissed. "You are an error that must be unmade."
Erevan raised his hand, and the void itself obeyed him. "Then unmake what was never written."
The battle began.
Space collapsed into nothingness. Every strike shattered galaxies, every clash birthed new realities. Death swung his scythe Erevan caught it with two fingers. Memory unleashed the past Erevan burned it away with golden fire. Truth tried to rewrite his fate Erevan erased the script itself.
For the first time, Erevan bled light pure cosmic energy, the essence of creation itself. But instead of falling, he smiled.
> "So… you can hurt me. Good."
Then the void trembled. Erevan released something he had hidden even from himself The True Void, a state of infinite nothing where even concepts ceased to exist. The immortals screamed as their forms dissolved into the nameless abyss.
When silence returned, Erevan stood alone again. His armor cracked, his aura dim, but his eyes burned brighter than the stars.
> "The True Void… mine to command."
He looked toward the horizon of existence. Beyond it waited something vast not an enemy, but a writer.
Someone who once tried to define him.
> "I'm coming for you," he whispered. "And this time, even destiny won't survive."