The fabric of the realm twisted.
Argan stood alone in the Demon God's throne domain — a realm without light or time, where the screams of ancient souls echoed endlessly. Above him, stars twisted like dying embers. Below, an abyss churned with the weight of forgotten wars.
The Demon God rose from his throne of bones and shadows. His body morphed between grotesque forms — a giant of ash, a serpent of void, a beast of flame — each more abominable than the last.
His voice tore through space like shattered glass.
"You dare step into my dominion? Foolish creature... even gods tremble before me!"
Argan stood motionless, the wind rustling his obsidian cloak. His expression was unreadable — not cold, not cruel, just... distant.
"I've seen gods far greater than you," he replied quietly, "and left them in silence."
With a roar, the Demon God lunged. A claw, the size of a mountain, raked through the air. Space shattered — but Argan didn't even blink. He simply shifted his foot. The strike passed through where he had been a heartbeat before.
The god howled and raised both arms. From the earth, black tendrils surged upward, tearing open rifts that birthed spectral beasts — dragons with shattered wings, wolves made of bone and fire, giants with bleeding eyes.
They charged.
Argan raised one hand.
A silent pulse rippled from his palm — not sound, not light, but will. Every summoned beast froze in mid-attack... then crumbled into ash and vanished into the void.
"Your creations are fragile," Argan said, brushing dust from his shoulder.
The Demon God snarled and spread his arms wide. Shadows lengthened into blades, time cracked, gravity twisted. Chains of corruption coiled toward Argan's mind, attempting to pierce his thoughts.
But Argan didn't react.
The god's expression changed.
"No… this is impossible," he muttered. "Why can't I breach your mind?!"
Argan finally turned to face him directly.
"You've spent your existence feasting on the minds of mortals. I am not one of them."
The Demon God trembled. His powers—ones that had shattered galaxies—meant nothing here.
"You… You must be one of them," he hissed. "The Council of Realms… You're one of those ancient overseers, aren't you?"
For the first time, Argan chuckled.
It was low and calm — not mocking, not boastful, simply amused.
"Don't insult me," he said.
He took a single step forward. The very floor of the realm cracked beneath his boot.
"Don't compare me to those who sit on thrones, watching the cosmos crumble while doing nothing. I am not part of your so-called Council."
He narrowed his gaze.
"While they debate balance, I bury tyrants."
The Demon God stepped back. He, a being feared across dimensions… was afraid.
"Then… what are you?" the god asked, voice trembling.
Argan said nothing.
He simply move.
A single heartbeat later, the space between them collapsed.
The Demon God barely had time to raise his defenses before Argan was upon him.
Argan's fist cracked against the god's ribs, sending shockwaves rippling through the realm. A punch followed by a knee — then a spinning strike that shattered several of the god's shifting faces at once.
Every blow was clean. Precise. Effortless.
The Demon God struck back wildly, arms lashing out, but Argan ducked, twisted, and retaliated with a flurry of strikes so fast they blurred like echoes of light.
Bones cracked. Flesh warped. Realms trembled.
Their battle raged across the skies and through the throne itself. Towers of bone crumbled. The black stars exploded in silence. The realm, once timeless, now bent under the weight of their clash.
Yet through it all — Argan didn't sweat. Didn't bleed. Didn't even scowl.
Not a scratch marked him, save for a faint graze on his cheek — a thin red line that vanished in seconds.
The Demon God gasped, falling to one knee, coughing out light and dust.
"How... how are you doing this? I've devoured galaxies! What are you?!"
Argan approached slowly, still calm, still unshaken.
"You ask the wrong question," he said, raising two fingers toward the god's chest.
"You should be asking why you still exist."
The Demon God's form began to break down — not dying, but unraveling.
Desperate, he reached into the void and cast a spell forbidden even to the oldest pantheons — a sphere of absolute darkness. All-consuming. Final.
Argan stepped into it.
One second passed.
Two.
BOOM!
The sphere shattered from within.
Argan emerged, cloak unburnt, aura now laced with black flame and golden lightning entwined like calm and chaos in harmony.
He raised a finger.
One.
The Demon God's body cracked.
Two.
His form dissolved further — wings failing, limbs collapsing, stars bleeding from his mouth.
Three.
"Wait!" the Demon God begged. "How can you have such impossible power?! Are you even bound to reality?!"
Argan stared into his fading eyes.
"That is your final thought?" he asked, his tone almost pitying.
He leaned slightly closer.
"I was simply... never bound by it."
With two fingers, he tapped the Demon God's chest.
A ripple of nothingness spread through the entity's body.
Not death.
Not destruction.
Just... erasure.
The Demon God's last scream was silent — lost to a void that even time refused to remember.
The throne cracked, the realm collapsed, and the darkness that had haunted creation was no more.
As the dust of the broken dimension drifted like ashes, Argan's gaze locked onto something that should not have existed.
A door.
A monolithic structure of black stone and unknown metal — standing untouched by the chaos around it.
And on its surface… were nine glowing symbols.
Each one distinct. Alive.
Argan's brow furrowed. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"These… I've never seen these before."