Heaven broke first.
The moment Asmodeus moved, light itself screamed.
Dimension met the strike with a raised hand, and existence tilted.
Every atom in the chamber shifted one fraction of a second out of sync. The result was detonation.
Sound vanished. Reality collapsed inward like glass struck from within.
The first blow launched them through the layers of creation, the Throne's white brilliance tearing into fractal ribbons behind them.
They burst through Heaven's veil like comets splitting the firmament.
> "You're fast," Dimension said casually, adjusting his collar as they moved faster than the idea of speed.
"But you think in straight lines. Predictable."
Asmodeus appeared behind him before the words finished leaving his mouth. His wings cut the dark like black flame, eyes burning with all the wrath of creation's heir.
> "Predict this—"
He struck.
Sin Axiom: Genesis Rend.
A swing of pure destruction, the kind that carved reality's edge into being. The slash didn't cut space — it erased what space was.
The result was a storm of uncreation. Galaxies folded into spirals of bleeding light. Stars ignited backward.
Dimension flipped through it unharmed, each motion rewriting physics to his favor. His scroll flickered at his side, absorbing the laws that shattered in their wake.
> "That one was interesting," he said, studying the air. "You swing with concept, not motion. Primitive, but effective."
Asmodeus answered with silence — and then, motion beyond motion.
He vanished into his own shadow, reappearing at a distance so vast it required an entire universe just to measure.
Dimension was already there.
They collided.
The shockwave broke the observable cosmos in half. Every star system became a frozen bead of glass in the void.
Where their fists met, time ceased to flow — only vibration remained.
Dimension retaliated, his movements synchronized with the shifting of epochs.
> "Protocol—Temporal Reset."
Everything reversed for a blink. The battle rewound to its start — but Asmodeus still moved forward.
He had defied time itself.
> "You can't rewind what I don't acknowledge," Asmodeus said coldly.
He raised his hand, and the shadows of every sin ever committed gathered into his palm.
The energy condensed, screaming for release.
Sin Domain: The Black Mandate.
He slammed it forward.
The explosion swallowed ten thousand universes. Planets, faiths, gods — gone. Reduced to memory dust.
Dimension staggered back, coat burning with equations written in light. His smirk didn't fade.
> "You'd be terrifying," he said, "if you weren't standing in my jurisdiction."
He held up the scroll, and symbols too old for gods to read ignited.
> "Clause Nine: Causal Intervention."
The universe twisted.
The wound Asmodeus had created sealed — time forgot it ever happened.
Asmodeus clenched his teeth. For the first time in two hundred million years, his power met resistance that didn't crumble.
> "You rewrite reality like it's parchment," he growled.
Dimension adjusted his spectacles again. "Exactly. And you're just an entry that's overdue for correction."
The next instant, Dimension moved.
Not fast. Not slow.
He moved differently.
Asmodeus struck — and his blow landed centuries too early.
Dimension appeared behind him, palm pressed against his back.
> "Existence Delay."
The words hit harder than any physical strike.
Asmodeus's body fractured — layers of being separating, each version of himself frozen in a different second.
Athena's voice echoed faintly across the collapsing realms, calling his name — distant, desperate.
He heard it like a dying star hears the memory of light.
> "You think this is control?" Asmodeus snarled through the distortion. "You think this is order?"
Dimension tilted his head. "It's necessary."
Reality bent.
The frozen shards of Asmodeus snapped back together, his wings flaring so bright they cast color into the monochrome of eternity.
Every law in reach broke under his defiance.
> "Then let me show you necessary."
He surged forward again, faster, harder — each step exploding through a new dimension.
Nebulae shredded in their wake. Galaxies cracked like mirrors.
They fought through the heart of existence itself — collapsing through entire realities like falling through paper.
In one moment, they shattered a black hole and rode the fragments of time through its dying event horizon.
In the next, they broke through the outer membrane of the cosmos — the boundary between the known and the eternal.
There was no up, no down. Only color and noise and the echo of creation's pulse.
Dimension skidded across a plane of collapsing light, still somehow calm, still reading that endless scroll.
> "I have to admit," he said, "this is impressive. You're burning through realities faster than they can stabilize."
Asmodeus floated opposite him, flames wreathing his form like divine wrath given shape.
> "You talk too much."
He raised both hands.
Sin Commandment: Oblivion Chorus.
Thousands of ethereal blades formed from shattered commandments, singing in a tone that only dying gods could hear.
They descended on Dimension all at once — a storm of annihilation.
When the light cleared, he was still standing — coat torn, but eyes amused.
> "You really don't understand what you're fighting, do you?"
And then the color drained away.
Everything — light, heat, energy — stopped.
Dimension raised his hand, and Asmodeus felt his limbs slow, his thoughts crawl.
It wasn't weakness. It was absence.
> "You're a magnificent constant," Dimension said quietly. "But constants are still bound to equations. And I exist outside math."
He pressed a finger forward — and Asmodeus shattered across probability.
Countless versions of himself split apart — every decision, every sin, every defiance laid bare, suspended across eternity.
Each screamed its own truth.
And through them all, one word echoed — his own voice, defiant.
> "Enough."
The pieces pulled back together, not by will, but by inevitability.
Asmodeus stood again, trembling, eyes burning with raw chaos.
Dimension lowered his hand, studying him.
> "How are you—"
> "You can't unmake what denies existence itself," Asmodeus said, voice rising.
The surrounding void pulsed — a beat that didn't belong to any world.
The pulse grew stronger, vibrating through the gaps between galaxies.
Dimension frowned. "What is that?"
Asmodeus smiled faintly.
> "You wanted order. Welcome to its opposite."
The stars around them began to move. Not burn — move.
Whole galaxies rotated, merging into a single, infinite whirlpool of motion and light.
At its center lay a rippling sphere — a realm of unending energy, a current without beginning or end.
Dimension's composure faltered. "The Perpetual Motion… that's not possible."
> "Everything's possible," Asmodeus said, stepping toward it.
"For gods who stopped asking permission."
Their next clash ignited the entrance of the realm — time burning away in their wake.
The battle vanished into the storm, their power tearing through infinity itself.
And somewhere within that endless motion, the fate of existence began to tilt.