The moment the false plain stabilized again, the battle resumed but now, it was no longer a clash of knowledge or will. It was language itself fracturing under pressure.
The Overseer unfolded across the plane, each segment of its body representing a word of creation. Every syllable it uttered rewrote a piece of the fabric Radahn stood on. The void beneath them no longer held stars or darkness. It was now made of unfinished thoughts, a realm of aborted meanings.
Radahn countered by erasing his definition. His outline flickered like broken glass; every time the Overseer tried to calculate his existence, the equation returned a paradox.
"YOU DARE TO WITHHOLD FORM FROM ME?" the Overseer's voice ran out like thunder that burned reality.
"I AM THE AUTHOR OF FORM!"
Radahn raised his hand, black light spiraling around his wrist.
"And I am the misprint you couldn't erase."
He clapped his hands once.
The sound seemed to be pure, heavy, sharp and collapsed reality into a single dimension, flattening infinity.
Radahn's body erupted into constellations of energy, rearranging into a colossal cannon formed entirely from compressed gravity and antimatter.... Dark Matter.
Its structure was visible, a cathedral of black and violet veins erupting with collapsing galaxies.
He placed his hand upon it.
The weapon breathed.
BANG!
The beam tore through the plane, a spear of dark matter, visible and magnificent, laced with knots of silver light twisting like serpents. It screamed like a dying star as it carved through the Overseer's form.
The beam didn't explode, it unwove. Wherever it struck, dimensions folded into each other like melting wax.
The Overseer staggered. Its flesh reformed from equations written in flame. The air trembled with the sound of logic bleeding.
"PHYSICAL DAMAGE IS A KINDNESS, RADAHN."
"I EXIST WHERE DAMAGE IS ONLY AN IDEA."
Then it spread its arms, and conceptual cyclone erupted.
Pain turned into sound, sound into physics, physics into hunger.
Each new law it summoned overrode the previous one.
Infinity rewriting infinity.
Radahn was forced to defend not with power, but with thought.
He refused those laws.
Every time the Overseer wrote a new rule, Radahn's soul rejected it like a corrupted code. His blood boiled in golden vapor. He raised his right hand to the heavens and whispered an invocation from a forgotten god,
"Rain."
From the blood-red void above, countless swords materialized, each forged from a memory of a fallen warrior, each burning with the concept of vengeance that never ends.
They fell down like meteors hungry for destruction.
It was a mass extinction event.
The Overseer stood amid the cascade of light and blades, unflinching. Swords pierced the continent, carved through time. Every impact birthed universes of short-lived existence that immediately died again.
The Overseer's eyes, those cubic, infinite eyes glowed brighter.
It raised a single fang and paused the rain.
Every sword froze midair.
Then the Overseer turned them upside down, making reality itself rush upward.
Radahn roared, his eyes turned into darker.
He raised both hands then snapped his fingers.
For an instant, everything stopped existing.
A single, titanic sword, forged from all the frozen rain, appeared.
Its edge piercing through the laws of causality. The weapon spun through the space, dragging entire constellations with it. The space it traveled across screamed in agony, fracturing into radiant fractures of dying universes.
The sword came down at its maximum force.
The Overseer reached behind itself and grasped the Cosmic Web, the invisible web that connected all possible structures of existence.
"BEGONE," it whispered, voice soft and final.
The path or space the sword traveled ceased to exist.
Deleted.
The colossal weapon flickered, hesitated, then shattered into thousands of broken fragments, turned into rain of shining crystals.
Radahn's eyes widened. "You deleted existence itself to stop one strike?"
"I DELETED THE POSSIBILITY OF IT EVER BEING HIT," the Overseer replied coldly.
"YOU FIGHT WITH POWER. I FIGHT WITH CONTEXT."
Then, without gesture or movement, the Overseer began assembling something greater, twelve concentric halos of light forming behind it, each representing an abstract principle like Law, Time, Space, Meaning, Causality, Birth, and End.
The halos rotated. Each one carried within it an impossible attack. One that could unwrite history, reverse divine thought, make cause and effect switch places.
The plain trembled. The borders of reality peeled open, showing the empty stage where the Authors once watched.
Radahn grinned through blood and light.
"Then let's make a new context."
The Overseer slowly grew larger in scale.
It no longer occupied reality. It was reality. Galaxies ran through its veins, superclusters spun across its skin like freckles of fire. Every blink created a new dimension, every exhale birthed the concept of mass.
It had become the multiverse itself—omnipresent, omniscient, infinite.
Yet within that immensity.… Radahn smiled.
He was shrinking. His atoms compressed out of physics, beyond imagination. His existence folded into smaller and smaller axioms until the universe could not perceive him, not because he was hidden, but because he was the reason perception existed.
The Overseer's laughter echoed like collapsing stars.
"Do you think size defines dominion, mortal spark?"
Radahn's voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"No, but you just made me the pivot your immensity turns upon."
The Overseer paused. For the first time, it realized its boundless form needed a scale of reference.
Infinity meant nothing without a center to measure from and Radahn had become that center.
The greater the Overseer grew, the more it bowed toward him.
The vaster it became, the more it depended on his infinitesimal presence to define "large."
Its multiversal shadow began to orbit the single, invisible constant that Radahn had become.
He whispered,
"Now you understand, even omnipotence needs an anchor. There is nothing to observe in void, Idiot."
The Overseer's rage tore through creation.
Entire plain shook from his presence. Reality flickered between truths. It redefined distance so that every point was everywhere yet no matter how far it stretched, Radahn remained the one variable that couldn't be removed.
"You dare to chain me with semantics?" it roared.
"Not semantics," Radahn replied calmly. "Meaning."
Then, the Overseer tried to end him.
It collapsed all probabilities, folded every universe into a single statement,
'Everything I say is true.'
That sentence alone erased paradox. It made its will absolute.
Laws broke and rewrote themselves to obey the decree.
Radahn, half-vanished within a flicker of conceptual vacuum, only smiled.
"You should've said that carefully."
He looked up into the infinite, and whispered back,
"Because now, I make your truth false."
The Overseer was stunned for a moment.
"What?"
"Everything you say," Radahn continued softly, "is true. You said it yourself. Then let's test it. Say this, Everything I say is false."
The Overseer thought, it thought about it with a hesitation that dug deep into its thoughts. It thought, If It is boundless, what this fence is going to do to it?
Result: It complied.
The statement consumed itself, folding inward.
A paradox born from its own divinity.
To sustain its logic, the Overseer had to delete one part of itself yet deleting anything meant disproving the statement.
Keeping it meant contradiction.
Its vast form began to convulse.
Galaxies shattered into equations. Light bled into meaning.
Its fangs turned on its own skin, chewing at the structure of reality just to remain consistent.
"YOU.... YOU KNEW THIS NOT ME!"
"You can't, I know, cause its not the true you." Radahn said. "You're trying to fix a law that invalidates itself. You can't do that until you achieve your true form."
The Overseer's scream became a sound louder than big bamg, denser than gravity.
It twisted, folding over the plain of existence like a burning scroll.
Whole realities winked out like dying neurons.
In its last coherence, the Overseer looked upon Radahn, now no larger than a single quark, glowing like a thought held between two infinities.
Radahn's hand lifted, not in victory, but in closure.
"You defined truth as everything you say," he murmured. "And truth defined your end."
The paradox reached completion.
The Overseer deleted its own syntax to maintain coherence.
A divine suicide born of logical necessity.
The plain shattered into translucent shards of unmade law.
Then, everything went back.
Only Radahn remained, suspended in the vacuum of what once was.
He breathed once and the act alone reintroduced the concept of breath.
Space bent back into shape around him. Colours returned. Directions returned. Beings returned.
He opened his hand.
From the center of his palm, a small thread of light extended, the bridge back to the real plain of existence.
Radahn stepped through it without sound.
Behind him, the broken plain folded into nonexistence, erased from all future and past narratives.
Only a whisper lingered,
The last echo of the Overseer's voice, repeating its final contradiction like a warning carved into time itself.
As Radahn's feet touched real ground again, the cosmos sighed in relief, yet trembling knowing that logic itself had just barely survived a war of meaning.
If it was the Overseer in its true form, it could have been gotten even harder for Radahn at current state to handle the situations