There was no sound.
The collision was an event beyond the physics of the mortal realm, an utter negation of sense. One was the concentrated essence of a nascent universe, a searing point of light containing all the potential of creation—fire, ice, wind, earth, lightning—fused into a singular, perfect will.
The other was its absolute antithesis, a sphere of devouring void, a gluttonous hole in reality that promised only the cold, silent peace of non-existence.
When the Genesis Nova met the Black Sun of Oblivion, the world did not explode. It simply… ceased to be.
For a single, eternal heartbeat, there was only white. An incandescent, all-consuming purity that erased the sky, the scarred earth, the distant mountains, and the very concept of color and shadow.
