Reality did not hesitate.
It flinched.
The Supreme Black Hole opened wider, not by force, but by permission. Like a wound widening because it knew resistance was insulting. From within it emerged something crowned.
True Ancient Sukojo stepped forward.
The first thing anyone noticed was not his size.
It was his posture.
Straight.
Relaxed.
Unchallenged.
He wore a crown.
Not forged.
Not ceremonial.
Not symbolic.
A crown grown from annihilation itself.
Jagged black arcs curved upward from his temples like broken halos, each segment etched with scars that were not decorative. Each mark represented something erased so completely it never learned how to be remembered. The crown did not glow.
It loomed.
It bent the idea of hierarchy just by existing.
His body was clad in layered obsidian armor fused directly to his form, plates overlapping like the scales of a god that had shed universes instead of skin. Gaps between the armor leaked nothing. Not light. Not void. Just absence disciplined into shape.
His eyes opened.
Not burning.
Not glowing.
Judging.
The dead zone collapsed inward around him, crushed by the sheer audacity of something daring to exist in his presence without permission.
Void Kuda screamed.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
Void Kuda: N—NO—
Void Kuda: THAT— THAT IS—
Sukojo didn't even look at him yet.
Sukojo: Silence.
The word wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Void Kuda's voice ceased to exist mid syllable. His mouth still moved. His throat still convulsed. No sound came out. Blood poured freely as the void inside him panicked, folding inward like a starving animal realizing the alpha had returned.
Sukojo finally turned his head.
Slow.
Disdainful.
Sukojo: You wear my residue.
His gaze dropped slightly, like one might look at a stain.
Sukojo: And you thought that made you real.
Void Kuda slammed to the ground, his knees shattering the space beneath him as gravity finally decided to acknowledge who mattered. His adaptation engine spasmed violently, trying to rewrite itself fast enough to survive proximity.
Void Kuda: I— I was born from the Black—
Sukojo stepped forward.
One step.
The Supreme Black Hole behind him bowed.
Sukojo: You were born from waste.
He didn't kill Void Kuda.
That would imply effort.
He walked past him.
The battlefield caved inward toward Sukojo like existence itself was trying to kneel correctly. Hyper layers folded like wet parchment. Concepts lost priority. Power scaling became meaningless.
This wasn't escalation.
This was placement.
Sukojo stopped in front of Sereon.
He looked down.
Not because Sereon was smaller.
Because that was how prey was evaluated.
Sukojo: So.
Sukojo: You are the one rearranging the board.
His voice carried cruelty that did not need volume. Every word felt like it had already been proven correct somewhere long ago.
Sereon met his gaze.
Calm.
Measured.
Sereon: You took your time.
Sukojo smiled.
Not wide.
Not amused.
Predatory.
Sukojo: I enjoy watching insects pretend they discovered fire.
The crown above his head shifted slightly, fragments grinding against one another with a sound like civilizations breaking their teeth on inevitability.
Sukojo: You are loud.
Sukojo: Clever.
Sukojo: And utterly temporary.
He leaned in just enough for Sereon to feel it.
Not pressure.
Ownership.
Sukojo: You did not break the system.
Sukojo: You entertained it.
The Eight Captains collapsed further.
Not from force.
From humiliation.
Vaize's hands shook violently. Not because he was injured.
Because he understood.
This thing did not oppose order.
It devoured it when bored.
Sukojo turned his gaze outward.
At the captains.
At the broken verses.
At the battlefield.
Sukojo: This place reeks of ambition.
He inhaled slowly.
Sukojo: And fear.
Sukojo: Delicious.
Then—
Someone laughed.
Casual.
Unbothered.
Copi leaned against nothing, hands in his pockets, grin sharp and disrespectful.
Copi: Damn.
Copi: You still wear the crown like it means something.
Sukojo did not turn.
Sukojo: You still breathe like you deserve to.
Copi's grin widened.
Copi: See, that's why people hate you.
Copi: No chill.
Sukojo finally looked at him.
The smile vanished.
Sukojo: You are still alive.
Copi shrugged.
Copi: You keep failing at that part.
The space between them screamed, not collapsing, not exploding, just barely tolerating the idea that two entities like this were allowed in the same frame.
Sukojo turned back to Sereon.
Dismissive now.
Sukojo: You are not a threat.
Sukojo: You are not a rival.
Sukojo: You are a rehearsal.
The crown pulsed once.
Sukojo: And rehearsals exist to be forgotten.
Sereon's grip tightened on his katana.
Not fear.
Resolve sharpened by insult.
Sereon: Then why did you come yourself.
That earned him Sukojo's full attention.
A pause.
Then—
Sukojo laughed.
Deep.
Cruel.
Satisfied.
Sukojo: Because I wanted to look you in the eyes.
Sukojo: Before I erase the idea that you ever thought you mattered.
The Supreme Black Hole behind him expanded.
Not consuming.
Awaiting command.
Sukojo straightened.
Crown towering.
Armor unmoved.
Presence absolute.
But then.
The space warped sideways.
Not opened.
Not torn.
Stepped on.
Copi appeared mid air, hands in his pockets, feet dangling like he'd dropped into the wrong room on purpose.
Copi: Damn.
Copi: You still wearing that crown?
The Supreme Black Hole behind Sukojo stuttered.
Sukojo did not turn at first.
Copi tilted his head, amused.
Copi: Thought you'd downgrade by now. Guess ego fossilizes too.
That was enough.
Sukojo looked at him.
Not anger.
Decision.
There was a sound.
Not loud.
Not sharp.
Wet. Precise. Absolute.
A slicing noise tore through the space between heartbeats, like metal dragged slowly through soaked silk. Air screamed as it parted, reality splitting cleanly with a sound like a cathedral door snapping off its hinges.
Copi froze.
A line appeared across his body.
Perfect.
Then—
SSSHKKRRRCH—
Copi slid apart.
Top half drifting backward.
Bottom half dropping straight down.
No explosion.
No force.
Just severance so clean the universe didn't realize Copi had been divided until gravity tried to count him twice.
Blood did not spray.
It peeled out, thick and slow, splattering across fractured space with a sound like paint thrown against glass.
Sukojo lowered his hand.
Sukojo: You speak too freely.
The halves hit nothing.
For half a second, silence.
Then—
Copi laughed.
The sound echoed from both halves.
Copi: Ohhh that's nasty.
The cut edges shifted.
Not regenerating.
Replacing.
The severed planes folded inward, space correcting itself with a grinding, snapping noise like broken bones being forced back into alignment. The two halves didn't stitch.
They redeclared.
Copi stood whole again.
No scar.
No blood.
Still laughing.
Copi: Still got it.
Copi: Gotta say, the sound effect? Vintage.
Sukojo's lips curled.
Sukojo: Try again.
Copi grinned wider.
Copi: Nah.
Copi: That one was free.
Sereon raised his katana.
Just slightly.
Not a threat.
A signal.
Metal whispered.
Both of them felt it.
Copi's grin paused.
Sukojo's eyes shifted.
They looked at Sereon.
Then—
They looked at each other.
Both smiled.
Different smiles.
Copi's was playful.
Sukojo's was predatory.
Copi: Oh.
Copi: He's doing the thing.
Sukojo: He thinks movement will save him.
Copi: Cute.
They vanished.
The first impact never landed.
Because Sereon wasn't there.
His position shattered with a glass-like crack, fragments of afterimage exploding outward in layered misdirection. Each shard showed a different Sereon, each one a believable mistake.
Copi's slash passed through one.
It screamed.
Not because it hurt.
Because it wasn't real.
Sukojo's follow up erased another.
That one folded inward, collapsing with a brittle, snapping sound like frozen bone crushed underfoot.
Sukojo: Illusions.
Sereon reappeared behind them.
Then shattered again.
Then reappeared above.
Then nowhere.
Then everywhere wrong.
The battlefield filled with fracture sounds. Sharp crystalline cracks. Metallic ringing. Reality breaking in clean segments as Sereon spammed shatter after shatter, not to confuse them—
—but to desync their instincts.
Copi laughed mid charge.
Copi: He's not hiding.
Copi: He's lying about distance.
Sukojo struck.
The blow cut through seven Sereons.
Each one broke differently.
One collapsed like shattered ice.
One peeled sideways like torn paper.
One burst into fragments of memory.
None were him.
Sereon slid across the battlefield sideways, feet never touching ground, katana deflecting a killing arc by millimeters, the blade screaming as it scraped against an attack that weighed more than universes.
The sound was violent.
Steel shrieked.
Space tore.
Sereon coughed blood and vanished again.
Copi appeared where Sereon would be.
Missed.
Sukojo appeared where Sereon shouldn't be.
Missed.
Their timing was perfect.
His positioning was dishonest.
Sukojo snarled.
Sukojo: Stop moving.
Sereon appeared directly in front of him.
Too close.
Sereon: I'm not.
The image shattered.
Sukojo's counter erased empty space.
Copi clapped mid fight.
Copi: Oh this is filthy.
Copi: He's not faster.
Copi: He's earlier.
Sereon dropped behind them, knees buckling briefly as a delayed shockwave finally caught up to his body. Blood hit the ground hard.
He raised the katana again.
Shatter.
The world fractured.
Copi and Sukojo tore through the false layers simultaneously, their movements tearing sound apart, each step detonating with bass heavy impacts that shook nonexistent ground.
Copi sliced.
SHRRKKK—
Sereon leaned just enough.
The blade missed his throat by nothing.
Sukojo punched.
The blow grazed Sereon's ribs.
They exploded inward.
He vomited blood mid spin, body twisting unnaturally as another shatter broke his silhouette apart.
He landed badly.
Rolled.
Barely stood.
Breathing heavy.
Bleeding.
Smiling faintly.
Sereon: ...Yeah.
Sereon: This is about right.
Copi reappeared beside him instantly.
Copi: You know you're weaker, right?
Sereon vanished.
The spot Copi stood on split open, collapsing into a hollow echo of itself.
Sereon's voice came from nowhere.
Sereon: I know.
Sukojo appeared above.
Hand raised.
Sukojo: Then die correctly.
The strike came down.
Sereon raised his katana.
Not to block.
To lie.
The blade rang.
Once.
Not loud.
Not sharp.
It rang the way a verdict does when it finishes forming.
The sound traveled through the battlefield and reality reacted late. Space buckled a half breath after the ring, like it had been slapped and only then realized it should move. Every shattered layer that Sereon had laid earlier snapped inward at once, collapsing like glass pulled by gravity that did not exist.
Sukojo moved first.
He did not dash.
He did not teleport.
He arrived.
The air screamed as his presence displaced everything weaker than inevitability. His crown burned black and gold, carved with ancient contempt, its edges dripping pressure that crushed entire strata of existence flat. His arm came forward and the strike did not aim for Sereon.
It aimed for the idea that Sereon was allowed to continue.
The impact detonated.
Not outward.
Downward.
Layers folded beneath Sereon like stacked worlds being punched through simultaneously. Each layer shattered with a different sound. One screamed. One cracked like ice. One collapsed silently, erased before it could react. Sereon's body bent wrong, ribs exploding outward as blood sprayed in a wide arc, droplets tearing holes through space as they flew.
He should have died there.
He did not.
Because the Sereon that took the hit was late.
The real Sereon was already moving, sliding sideways through a fracture he had placed three seconds ago, his body scraping through raw causality. His shoulder tore open as he passed, skin peeling back, muscle shredded as the universe resisted him. He grunted once and kept moving.
Copi laughed.
The sound cracked like broken bells.
Copi appeared above Sereon, heel dropping straight down with enough force to collapse meaning itself. The strike connected.
Sereon's spine snapped.
Audibly.
His body folded in half, blood blasting from his mouth in a thick spray as his organs ruptured under the pressure. He slammed into nothing and bounced, tumbling through broken layers like a corpse.
Copi landed lightly.
Copi: That one was real.
Sereon twitched.
Then moved.
His broken spine straightened not by healing, but by rejection. The damage did not repair. It became invalid. Blood still poured. Flesh still hung loose. But his posture corrected as if injury was merely a suggestion.
He dragged himself upright.
Barely.
Sereon: You're adapting faster.
Copi tilted his head.
Copi: Learning from you.
Sukojo was already there.
His hand closed around Sereon's face.
The grip did not squeeze.
It compressed.
Sereon's skull caved inward, bone grinding into brain with a wet crunch as blood poured from his eyes and mouth. Sukojo lifted him effortlessly and slammed him down.
Again.
Again.
Each impact drove Sereon through a different layer. Each layer died screaming. Sereon's body stopped resembling a body and started resembling debris.
Sukojo leaned down.
Sukojo: You are fragile.
Sukojo: You are late.
Sukojo: You are beneath me.
He drove his knee into Sereon's chest.
The ribcage imploded completely.
Heart ruptured.
Lungs burst.
Blood erupted upward like a fountain, splashing across Sukojo's crown and face, dripping down his chin in thick lines. The sound was obscene. Meat tearing. Space snapping. Something ancient laughing quietly beneath it all.
Copi watched with interest.
Copi: He's still moving.
Sukojo frowned.
Because Sereon's hand was rising.
Shaking.
Broken.
Still rising.
Sereon's fingers touched the katana.
The blade rang again.
Reality screamed.
The corpse beneath Sukojo shattered.
Not flesh.
Position.
The Sereon he was crushing fractured into layered misdirection, each fragment exploding outward into a different lie. Blood turned into reflections. Bone into afterimages. The real Sereon reappeared behind Sukojo, katana already moving.
He slashed.
The cut landed.
Clean.
Across Sukojo's back.
The sound was violent.
A tearing metallic shriek followed by a wet ripping noise as reality peeled open. Black blood sprayed outward in massive arcs, thick and heavy, splattering across collapsed layers and burning holes where it landed. Sukojo's flesh split wide, the wound exposing raw absence beneath, something deeper than muscle, deeper than void.
Sukojo roared.
Not in pain.
In offense.
He turned and backhanded Sereon mid motion.
The hit landed square.
Sereon's head snapped sideways and came off.
Clean.
The neck severed with a sickening pop and spray, spine exposed, blood erupting in a wide fan as the head flew end over end through broken space.
Copi blinked.
Then laughed harder.
Copi: Oh come on.
The body took three steps.
Headless.
Blood pouring in sheets.
Then it shattered.
The head stopped mid air.
Cracked.
Split.
Fragments of illusion fell away like broken mirrors.
Sereon stood behind both of them again.
Breathing hard.
Body torn.
Blood everywhere.
Still standing.
Sukojo turned slowly.
His wound closed not by healing, but by replacement. The damaged section peeled away and was overwritten by new flesh, darker, denser, screaming quietly as it locked into place.
Sukojo smiled.
Wide.
Unhinged.
Sukojo: Good.
Sukojo: You bleed properly.
Copi appeared beside Sereon instantly and drove his elbow into Sereon's jaw.
The jaw exploded.
Teeth scattered across layers.
Sereon flew backward, spinning, crashing through three realities before stopping against nothing. Copi followed and kicked him mid air.
The kick collapsed the space around Sereon into a crushing sphere.
Bones snapped.
Organs liquefied.
Blood burst outward like a bomb.
Copi leaned forward.
Copi: You're weaker.
Copi: But you're annoying.
Sereon's voice came from everywhere.
Sereon: That's the point.
The sphere shattered.
Copi recoiled half a step as false gravity inverted violently. His balance slipped for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Sereon appeared directly in front of him and drove the katana straight through Copi's chest.
The blade did not pierce.
It selected.
Copi's torso folded inward around the sword as if agreeing to be cut. Blood poured out in black and red streams, splashing across Sereon's arms and face. Copi coughed violently, chunks of corrupted matter ejecting from his mouth.
Copi laughed through it.
Copi: Oh that's new.
Copi grabbed the blade and twisted.
The katana screamed as Copi's body adapted mid contact, the metal bending, cracking, vibrating violently. Sereon's grip tore open, skin splitting to the bone as blood ran down his fingers.
Sukojo arrived behind Sereon and drove both hands through his back.
They burst out the front of Sereon's chest.
Fingers spread.
Heart torn apart.
Sereon's body jerked.
Blood exploded forward in a violent spray that coated Copi completely.
Sukojo leaned in close to Sereon's ear.
Sukojo: Die.
Sereon coughed blood and smiled.
Sereon: Already did.
The blade rang.
Again.
Everything stopped.
For half a breath.
Then the battlefield fractured into layered recursion. Every strike replayed slightly wrong. Every movement overlapped itself. Copi and Sukojo felt it instantly as their senses split into competing truths.
Copi staggered.
Copi: Oh that's dirty.
Sukojo snarled and tore his hands free.
Sereon collapsed to one knee, bleeding out in sheets, breathing ragged.
His hand trembled against the fractured ground. Blood pooled, then fell upward, then sideways, unable to decide which law it belonged to anymore. His vision blurred for half a second.
That was all he needed.
Sereon inhaled.
Deep.
Slow.
The tremor stopped.
Not because he healed.
Because he committed.
Sereon rose.
Not fast.
Not explosive.
Deliberate.
The moment he stood, the battlefield reacted like it had been waiting for permission. Layers aligned. Misalignments corrected. The endless recursion he had been spamming snapped inward and hardened into structure.
Sereon: ...Alright.
He rolled his shoulder once. Bone shifted audibly back into place. Blood still ran freely. His chest was still caved in where Sukojo's hands had passed through him.
He didn't fix it.
He ignored it.
Sereon: Let's stop warming up.
Copi's grin widened instantly.
Copi: Oh?
Copi: You finally decided to play honestly?
Copi spread his arms.
Wide.
Inviting.
Copi: Go on.
Copi: Kill me.
Sukojo didn't wait.
He never did.
He stepped forward and punched.
Not aimed.
Inevitable.
The punch tore through space and hit Sereon square in the torso. The impact didn't throw him back.
It erased the space behind him.
Sereon's body folded inward violently, ribs exploding outward again, organs rupturing a second time as blood blasted forward like a ruptured dam.
Sukojo followed.
Elbow.
Knee.
Palm.
Each strike landed faster than the last.
Each hit harder.
The space screamed with every impact as Sukojo's output climbed without pause. His speed ticked up. His force sharpened. His timing refined itself mid motion. Every exchange fed him.
Sukojo smiled wider with each hit.
Sukojo: Yes.
Sukojo: Yes.
Sukojo: Keep standing.
Sereon skidded backward, boots carving trenches through nothing. He coughed blood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stepped forward again.
This time, he moved into the strike.
Sukojo's fist came.
Sereon twisted.
Barely.
The punch grazed his side instead of caving his chest. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed. But the space behind him remained intact.
That was new.
Sukojo noticed.
Sukojo: Hm.
He adjusted.
Faster.
The next punch arrived before the thought of blocking finished forming.
Sereon raised his katana.
The blade rang.
The punch connected.
And stopped.
The impact screamed as force tried to propagate and found nowhere to go. Sereon's arm shattered up to the shoulder, bone fragments bursting through skin, blood spraying violently.
But the blade held.
Sukojo's eyes widened just slightly.
Sereon leaned forward through the pain and slashed.
The cut tore across Sukojo's chest.
Deep.
The sound was horrific. Metal tearing through something that hated being divided. Black blood erupted outward in thick sheets, splattering across broken layers and hissing as it ate into existence.
Sukojo staggered one step.
One.
Then he laughed.
Sukojo: Better.
He backhanded Sereon.
The hit landed.
Sereon's head snapped sideways, cheek torn open, teeth flying as his body was launched across multiple layers and slammed hard into nothing.
Copi clapped.
Copi: That's the one.
Copi vanished.
Reappeared directly in front of Sereon mid flight.
Copi's hand passed cleanly through Sereon's chest.
Not tearing.
Copying.
Copi tilted his head as data flooded him.
Copi: Oh.
Copi: That movement.
Copi: That timing.
Copi pulled his hand out.
Sereon's chest exploded inward as the copied force reassembled at a higher fidelity. Blood detonated from his mouth and back simultaneously as the internal damage doubled, then tripled.
Copi smiled.
Copi: You should've known better than to show me that.
Sereon hit the ground hard.
Did not rise immediately.
Copi landed beside him and crouched slightly.
Copi: Come on.
Copi: Don't tell me that was all.
Copi stood and raised his hand.
Copi: Your slash.
Copi mimicked the motion perfectly.
Too perfectly.
The katana appeared in Copi's grip as a reflection, forged from copied intent rather than metal. He slashed downward.
The cut landed.
Reality split.
The same cut Sereon had used on Sukojo detonated across the battlefield at a higher resolution. Entire layers were bisected. A distant verse screamed as its sky peeled open.
Sereon barely rolled aside.
The edge grazed him.
His entire left side ceased to exist.
Not cut.
Deleted.
Copi watched with interest.
Copi: Huh.
Copi: Even better when I do it.
Sereon pushed himself up on one arm, blood pouring freely, half his body missing, vision flickering.
He laughed.
Low.
Hoarse.
Sereon: Yeah.
Sereon: That's your problem.
Copi blinked.
Sereon looked up at him.
Eyes sharp.
Focused.
Alive.
Sereon: You only win when I stop moving.
Copi tilted his head.
Copi: True.
Sereon slammed his hand into the ground.
The battlefield snapped.
Illusions detonated outward in layered bursts. Hundreds of Sereons exploded into existence at once, each one imperfect, each one bleeding, each one moving differently.
Copi's grin widened.
Copi: Oh this again?
Copi stepped forward and slashed.
Three hundred Sereons died instantly.
Heads severed.
Bodies bisected.
Blood spraying everywhere in violent arcs.
Copi laughed as he walked through them.
Copi: I can kill you forever.
Sukojo moved through the illusions like a storm.
Every strike erased dozens.
Each hit faster.
Sharper.
Stronger.
He was accelerating.
He always did.
Sukojo: RUN.
Sereon didn't.
The real Sereon slipped between strikes, timing razor thin, body barely holding together as he carved shallow cuts into Sukojo whenever he could. Each cut fed Sukojo more.
Speed rose.
Damage spiked.
Pressure thickened.
Sukojo's crown burned brighter.
Sukojo: YES.
Sukojo: THIS IS HOW YOU DIE.
Copi appeared behind Sereon.
Copi: Got you.
His hand pierced Sereon's back and crushed his heart.
The heart burst.
Blood exploded out of Sereon's mouth and chest as his body convulsed violently.
Copi leaned close.
Copi: Bye.
Sereon's body went limp.
Silence.
Copi straightened.
Sukojo stopped moving.
They waited.
Three seconds passed.
Then four.
Copi frowned.
Copi: ...Hm.
Crack.
Sereon's corpse split down the middle.
Not flesh.
Priority.
The dead body shattered into layered misdirection and fell away like broken glass.
Sereon stood behind them again.
Breathing hard.
Whole.
Eyes burning.
Sereon: You both misunderstand something.
Sukojo turned slowly.
Copi laughed.
Copi: No way.
Sereon raised his katana.
Not high.
Not dramatic.
Sereon: I'm not adapting to you.
The blade rang.
Once.
Sereon: I'm forcing you to reveal yourselves.
The battlefield screamed as the next phase began.
And this time—
Sereon didn't miss.
Sereon's breath was uneven.
Blood soaked through his coat and dripped from his fingertips, splashing against the fractured ground in slow, irregular beats. His knee trembled where it touched the surface, the pressure from Sukojo and Copi crushing inward like twin singularities pressing on his spine.
Copi tilted his head, curious.
Copi: You're still thinking.
Sukojo rolled his neck once, bones cracking audibly as power surged again, denser than before.
Sukojo: Good.
Sukojo: Break properly.
Sereon lifted his head.
His eyes were no longer frantic.
They were focused.
Not desperate.
Not angry.
Aligned.
Sereon exhaled.
The sound did not travel outward.
It traveled through meaning.
Sereon: Enough improvising.
The battlefield did not explode.
It paused.
Every illusion Sereon had scattered earlier stopped mid motion. Blood froze in the air. Broken space held its shape. Even Sukojo's accelerating presence hesitated, like momentum suddenly questioning its direction.
Sereon planted his palm against the ground.
Not slamming.
Not striking.
Claiming.
Sereon: Domain World.
The words did not echo.
They were acknowledged.
Sereon:
Kakō Seishin Kyōiki.
Constructed Mind Territory.
Reality folded inward, not violently, but deliberately. The battlefield reassembled itself into layered planes of translucent structure, like overlapping glass diagrams of causality. Lines of thought became visible. Paths of intention intersected and diverged above and below them like constellations of decision.
This was not a place.
This was a framework.
Within Kakō Seishin Kyōiki, action was not forbidden.
It was ranked.
Sukojo laughed as pressure rolled off him.
Sukojo: Hah!
Sukojo: You think diagrams stop me?
He stepped forward.
His foot cracked the ground.
The crack stopped.
The fracture line terminated cleanly, cut off as if the world had decided it was inefficient to continue.
Sukojo's grin sharpened.
Copi blinked.
Copi: Oh.
Copi: This isn't a cage.
Copi: This is a filter.
Sereon forced himself upright, blood still running freely.
Sereon: Correct.
Sereon raised his hand slightly.
The Domain responded.
Sereon: Domain Amp.
The layered planes tightened.
Not shrinking.
Prioritizing.
Sereon:
Shikō Kasoku.
Thought Acceleration.
Every cognitive process within the Domain was forcibly synchronized to Sereon's frame. Reactions still occurred. Adaptations still happened.
But they happened after evaluation.
Copi felt it instantly.
His copied techniques still formed.
But they arrived a fraction late.
Copi laughed, coughing blood.
Copi: That's annoying.
Sukojo threw a punch.
It landed harder than before.
But the recoil returned more.
His arm twisted unnaturally, black blood spraying as muscle tore under its own output.
Sukojo roared in delight.
Sukojo: YES.
Sukojo: THAT'S BETTER.
Sereon's vision blurred again.
Maintaining the Domain was tearing him apart from the inside.
He didn't stop.
He raised two fingers.
His hand shook.
Sereon: You both thrive in open escalation.
Sereon: So I won't let the story stay open.
The layered planes of the Domain rotated.
Then collapsed inward.
Not into nothing.
Into a deeper rule.
Sereon: Domain Verse.
The Domain World did not vanish.
It was overwritten from beneath.
Sereon:
Hakushi Ketsuron Sakai.
Blank Conclusion Boundary.
Everything went quiet.
Not silent.
Undecided.
Color dulled to pale contrast. Sound existed only where meaning required it. Cause no longer guaranteed effect unless approved by the Verse.
Inside Hakushi Ketsuron Sakai, outcomes required permission.
Sukojo froze for half a breath.
Half a breath too long.
Sereon appeared in front of him and drove his knee into Sukojo's chest.
The impact did not explode outward.
It finalized.
Sukojo was launched backward through multiple layered boundaries, blood spraying thick and black as his accelerating output stuttered and failed to stack.
Copi reacted instantly.
He copied the strike.
Enhanced it.
Adjusted it beyond Sereon's output.
And slammed it into Sereon's side.
The hit landed.
Ribs collapsed.
Organs ruptured again.
Sereon vomited blood mid air.
But the Verse denied Copi the outcome.
The damage inverted.
Copi's own ribs detonated outward as the copied force rebounded internally.
Copi coughed blood and laughed, wiping his mouth.
Copi: Okay.
Copi: That's actually fun.
Sereon staggered, breathing hard, blood pouring freely now.
Sereon: You see the difference.
Sereon: I'm not overpowering you.
Sereon straightened despite his body screaming.
Sereon: I'm deciding which versions of you get to matter.
The Verse tightened.
Paths of possibility began collapsing.
Not erased.
Selected.
Sukojo's grin widened, blood dripping from his mouth.
Sukojo: Hah...
Sukojo: You finally stopped pretending.
Copi wiped blood from his chin.
Copi: Yeah.
Copi: Now you're actually playing.
Sereon's stance steadied.
His eyes sharpened.
Sereon: Good.
Sereon: Then stop holding back.
The pressure spiked again.
Not higher.
Sharper.
Reality leaned forward.
And then—
The space between them vanished again.
To Be Continued.
End Of Chapter 8.