The void stretched endless before him, fragments of shattered space drifting like frozen memories. Vemy hovered among the shards, wings of Prismarine fire flickering, each pulse a heartbeat in defiance of the abyss itself.
And then—
It revealed itself.
Not a shadow, not a whisper, not even a distorted fragment of a god. This was something else entirely. Vast. Ancient. A presence older than the Thrones, older than the Rings, older than the very notion of creation. Eyes—or what passed for them—burned with a depth that made Vemy's Prismarine fire shiver. Its form was ever-shifting: flame, crystal, void, and flesh, all folding into one, impossible to fully comprehend.
"You've grown bold," it spoke, not with sound, but with sensation. A weight in his mind that threatened to crush, unweaving reality as it pressed. "Little flame… do you know what you challenge?"
Vemy tightened his grip on his spear. Prismarine shards spun faster, orbiting him like desperate guardians. "I don't kneel. I never have. And I never will."
A pulse of energy erupted from the being, pushing him back, warping the fragments around him. His wings beat against the current, but the force was absolute, reshaping the void like clay.
"You carry fragments of me," it murmured, the voice a storm inside his chest. "Flame not yet tamed, storm not yet mastered… all echoes of my will."
Vemy grinned through the strain, blood streaking his face. "Then watch me make my own path."
He launched forward, Prismarine shards trailing like meteor storms. The being met him instantly, a collision of infinite weight against unyielding fire. Each strike warped space; each parry unmade a fragment of reality.
The void itself screamed as fire clashed with essence. Sparks of indigo, silver, and violet tore across the nothingness, scattering shards like stars in rebellion.
And through it all, Vemy felt it—the first moment in this battle where he was no longer echoing a god's power, but defining it. His rhythm, jagged and human, carved paths through chaos that even the ancient being had not anticipated.
It recoiled—just slightly—but that was enough.
Vemy's spear thrummed. Prismarine shards converged, a storm of crystal and flame, and he readied himself for the first true strike of the battle.
The abyss waited.
And so did the universe itself.