The scene opens within the grandeur of an ancient arena, its history etched into every stone and crevice, standing as a testament to countless battles and tournaments that span over 20,000 years. The arena, a colossal structure built by an ancient civilization renowned for its warriors and architects, combines the robustness of age-old stone with the elegance of intricate carvings depicting legendary battles and heroes from a bygone era.
The design is circular, allowing spectators from every angle an unobstructed view of the combatants below. At the center, the fighting ground is a vast expanse of sand, its surface smoothed by the passage of time, yet scarred by the memories of conflicts past. Surrounding the central battleground are tiers of seating, rising like the layers of an ancient coliseum. Each tier is filled with spectators—a vibrant mosaic of individuals from different realms and times, drawn together by the timeless allure of combat.
High above the audience, in a privileged position, sit the announcers. Their platform is adorned with relics and banners, symbols of the arena's storied past. The announcers wear traditional garments that pay homage to the arena's ancient heritage. With commanding voices that carry across the vast space, they introduce the combatants, adding to the spectacle with tales of their exploits and achievements.
Among the audience are distinguished guests, seated in areas reserved for royalty and esteemed warriors. Their attire gleams with finery, reflecting their status. Among the crowd, the anticipation is palpable as the combatants stand ready in the arena:
1. Kael, the Lionhearted
Clad in armor that gleams under the sun, Kael's presence is as commanding as his reputation. His mane of golden hair, a striking contrast to the deep bronze of his armor, frames a face marked by scars and determination. With a broadsword that has tasted the blood of countless foes, he stands ready—a warrior whose heart is as fierce as the lion that adorns his crest.
2. Zara, the Shadow Weaver
A figure of mystery, draped in dark, flowing robes that seem to absorb the light around her. Her eyes, a piercing silver, are the only hint of the power that lies within. Zara moves with a grace that belies the deadly accuracy of her twin daggers—lethal weapons that have struck from the shadows with precision.
3. Thane, the Elemental Fury
Towering above the others, Thane's presence is as tumultuous as the elements he commands. His armor, an amalgamation of earth, air, fire, and water, shifts and changes, mirroring his mastery over nature. With a staff that crackles with raw elemental energy, Thane stands as a testament to the ancient magics that birthed the arena itself.
4. Elyra, the Guardian of Time
Ethereal and enigmatic, Elyra's attire shimmers with a light that transcends the mundane. Around her, the air seems to shimmer, hinting at her dominion over time itself. With a staff that bends the very fabric of reality, she is both a protector and a formidable combatant, her motives as mysterious as her origins.
The announcers' voices crescendo, heralding the start of the tournament. The ancient arena thrums with an energy born of anticipation, history, and the unyielding spirit of combat. Here, in this age-old crucible, legends will be forged, and tales of valor and skill will be added to the annals of time.
Aric the Herald's voice fills the arena, a commanding presence that resonates not just through the air, but within the very soul of the audience.
Aric: Our first duel issssss...
His voice, drawing out the suspense, finally breaks the tension with the declaration.
Aric: KAAAELL, THE LIONHEARTED!
The crowd erupts into a cacophony of cheers and shouts, their enthusiasm palpable as Kael steps out from the entrance. His expression is stern, a reflection of the seriousness with which he approaches the duel.
Aric: AANNDDD THANEEE, THE ELEMENTAL FURY!
A hush falls over the crowd, a momentary silence hanging heavy in the air. Thane's towering presence, commanding and imbued with raw power, sparks a mixture of awe and apprehension. The crowd murmurs as the two legendary figures lock eyes across the battlefield.
Kael: Thane!
Thane: Kael!
Their acknowledgment is brief but loaded with tension. The air crackles between them as they take their positions, ready to unleash their full strength.
Aric: BEGIIINNN!!
The duel erupts with ferocity, Kael's blade flashing toward Thane with sparks trailing in its wake. Thane dodges with the fluidity of fire, sending a fireball hurtling toward Kael's face. Kael deflects it with a swing of his sword, the heat from the fireball dissipating with a sizzle. Thane retaliates with a kick, which Kael blocks, but Thane, using his mastery over the elements, absorbs the force and counters with a swift kick to Kael's head. Kael staggers, and his sword pierces Thane's arm.
Thane leaps back, clutching his arm, but his eyes burn with intensity.
Kael: This ends only by defeat or forfeit, Thane.
Thane: You've got speed, Kael, but I control the elements.
Kael: Yeah, but I'm faster.
The battle continues, fierce and unrelenting. The crowd watches, their breath collectively held. But then, in the midst of the clash, something happens—a disturbance, a moment of silence before a figure steps into the arena, a young boy, no more than fourteen, dressed in stark white, with a dark aura radiating from him.
Aric: Umm, who is this?
The crowd murmurs in confusion as the boy casually walks through the chaos of the duel, seemingly unaffected by the danger around him. The tension in the air grows thick as the combatants, Kael and Thane, both pause, their eyes narrowing in suspicion at the newcomer.
Sojo: (smirking) You should've just stayed down.
Sojo's voice cuts through the arena, cold and casual. His presence immediately shifts the energy of the entire arena, drawing every eye toward him.
Aric: Uh, hey kid! You can't just— (cut off by Sojo's voice)
Sojo: Shut up.
Without another word, Sojo raises his hand, and Kael's arm is severed in an instant. The crowd gasps in horror as Kael stumbles back, clutching the bleeding stump where his arm once was.
Kael: (gritting his teeth) What... did you do to me?
Sojo, unfazed, continues to walk across the arena as if he hadn't just disarmed one of the greatest warriors present. He yawns, visibly bored.
Sojo: (casually) You were supposed to be strong. This is just sad.
Thane, frozen in place for a moment, watches Kael's blood drip into the sand. The sudden shift in the battle has left him speechless, but only for a moment. Rage builds in his chest as he raises his hand to summon the elemental fury within him.
Thane: (growling) You... little... brat!
Before Thane can unleash his power, Sojo simply points in his direction.
Sojo: Left leg. Explode.
In an instant, Thane's leg detonates, sending blood and flesh spraying across the arena. His scream pierces the air as he collapses onto the sand, clutching the bloody stump where his leg once was. The crowd is now in a panic, some screaming, others desperately trying to understand what's happening.
Kael, weakened and on the ground, looks up at Sojo with wide eyes. He can't even comprehend what just happened.
Kael: (whispering) No... no...
Sojo: (bored) You should've just stayed down.
Kael, pinned to the ground and now hopelessly outmatched, closes his eyes, accepting his fate. Sojo, clearly bored with the spectacle, begins walking toward the exit of the arena, completely ignoring the chaos he's left behind.
The grand arena, ancient and vast, stands as a symbol of endless combat, its stone walls echoing with the tales of a thousand battles. In the midst of this storied battlefield, a figure dressed in white stands out, Sojo, his presence unexpectedly vanishing from the scene like a shadow evaporating under the sun. The arena, left momentarily breathless, pulses with tension. Then, just as quickly as Sojo disappears, the silence is broken by the arrival of new combatants.
Dark, Leona, and Tier enter the arena, their steps measured as they approach the center. Dark's aura, black and ominous, clashes with the radiant energy surrounding Leona, while Tier's calm but calculated demeanor signals his readiness for battle. Unbeknownst to them, a figure cloaked in shadow follows close behind, his presence felt more than seen. He lingers near the entrance, observing silently as they walk forward.
Leona: (whispering) Dark... do you feel that?
Her voice quivers slightly, her eyes darting towards the mysterious figure now lurking closer, almost unnervingly close to her.
Dark turns his head to the left, his eyes narrowing as he locks onto the figure, now only a few paces away from Leona. His movements deliberate, the figure radiates an eerie, oppressive energy, his face obscured beneath a hood that seems to shroud him in darkness.
Dark: (firmly) Back off from Leona.
But the figure, unmoved by the warning, steps forward, his silence adding to the tension that hangs heavy in the air. Leona stiffens, clearly unnerved, but tries to maintain her composure as Dark moves protectively in front of her.
Dark, no longer willing to wait, dashes forward, his intent clear: to rip the hood from the figure and expose whoever lurks beneath. However, as Dark reaches out, an invisible force erupts around the cloaked man, visible only in the faint shimmer it casts in the air. The force slams into Dark like a brick wall, sending him hurtling backward with tremendous power.
With a deafening crash, Dark is launched into the walls of the arena, stone and dust erupting around him. The crowd gasps in shock as the impact reverberates across the arena, creating fissures in the stonework.
Aric: (stunned) What the... just happened?
The mysterious figure, now standing at the center of the arena, slowly raises his hands. With a deliberate motion, he pulls back his hood, revealing a pale, almost ghostly face with eyes that gleam unnervingly bright. His voice, deep and resonant, cuts through the murmurs of the crowd.
Galvecron: I am known as Galvecron... though you may call me Cron.
He takes a step forward, his aura darkening, a menacing smile creeping onto his lips as he surveys the arena.
Galvecron: (calmly) A Copy Magic and Arsenal Magic user. The Immortal Copy God.
The declaration hangs in the air, the crowd whispering among themselves, their fear palpable. Dark, struggling to his feet, wipes the dust from his face. His eyes blaze with anger as he looks at Cron, fury building inside him.
Dark: (thinking) Who the hell is this guy?
Sukojo's voice echoes in Dark's mind, calm but with a sinister undertone.
Sukojo: (thinking) Dark... let me handle this. I know this man. It's been years... But it seems he's come to play again.
Dark, realizing the gravity of the situation, relinquishes control. His body stiffens, and within moments, Sukojo takes over, the shift in energy around Dark unmistakable. A smirk spreads across his face as his posture changes, more confident, more dangerous.
Sukojo: (calmly) Cron. After all these years? What brings you back?
Cron's gaze hardens, recognizing the presence now confronting him. His smile fades, replaced by a steely expression.
Galvecron: (voice cold) Sukojo... The Devourer Of All. I should have known. You've always been lurking in the shadows.
Their exchange crackles with an intensity born of ancient rivalry. Without another word, Sukojo dashes forward, his movement swift and lethal. In an instant, he closes the distance, aiming a powerful punch at Cron's head. But Cron is ready. With a flash of his hand, he conjures a barrier of crackling energy, deflecting the blow with ease.
The crowd watches in awe as the two powerful figures clash, their movements barely visible, too fast for most eyes to follow. Sukojo toys with Cron, his strikes purposeful yet seemingly carefree, as if he knows Cron isn't at his full power yet.
Sukojo: (mocking) Come on, Cron. Is that all you've got? After all these years, I expected more.
Cron, his pride wounded, narrows his eyes.
Galvecron: (voice low, dangerous) You'll regret those words.
With a flick of his wrist, Cron unleashes a flurry of attacks, blades of pure energy forming in the air around him, each one aimed with deadly precision. But Sukojo, laughing, sidesteps each attack, dodging with a grace that borders on mockery.
Sukojo: (grinning) Too slow.
Their fight intensifies, but mid-battle, Sukojo's smirk falters for a moment.
Sukojo: (thinking) Dark, you take over. It's time for you to learn how to face this kind of enemy.
Reluctantly, Dark is thrust back into control, his muscles tensing as he steps forward to face Cron. The shift is immediate. Cron, sensing the change, grins with dark amusement.
Galvecron: (mockingly) So... the puppet returns. Let's see how you fare, boy.
Dark charges forward, sword in hand, his strikes powerful but unrefined compared to Sukojo's finesse. Cron dodges and blocks with ease, his attacks calculated but not meant to overwhelm – yet.
Cron: (sneering) Is that all? Pathetic.
As Cron's attacks intensify, Dark finds himself being pushed back, his movements becoming sluggish under the weight of Cron's power. A wave of despair washes over him as he begins to realize the gap in their strength.
Dark: (thinking, breathless) I can't... I can't win this. He's too strong...
Cron's cold laughter echoes in the arena.
Galvecron: (laughing) You never stood a chance, boy. This isn't a battle. It's a massacre.
Dark, teetering on the edge of defeat, feels a familiar presence stir within him. Sukojo's voice cuts through the fog of doubt.
Sukojo: (calmly) Listen, Dark. Cron can't read your mind. He's powerful, but there's one thing he can't do – he can't sense me. As long as I'm inside you, you have the advantage.
Dark: (thinking) What...?
Sukojo: (serious) He can't read your thoughts. If he tries, he'll have to face me. And trust me, he won't like that.
Dark's eyes widen, a glimmer of hope flickering within him.
Sukojo: (grinning) You've got a chance. Now, listen carefully. I'll guide you. When to block, when to strike.
Dark, steeling his resolve, nods internally.
Sukojo's voice becomes sharp, giving precise instructions.
Sukojo: (thinking) Now! Fake the attack, sidestep, and slash!
Dark follows the instructions to the letter. He fakes an overhead strike, but at the last second, sidesteps Cron's counter and brings his sword down hard, slicing into Cron's side. Blood splatters onto the sand as Cron stumbles, his expression darkening with rage.
Galvecron: (snarling) You... little...
Before he can finish, Dark lunges forward again, striking at Cron's leg and forcing him to fall to one knee. But just as Dark is about to deliver the final blow, Cron begins to laugh, a deep, unsettling sound.
Galvecron: (darkly amused) You think... you've won?
Suddenly, a shift in the air occurs, and Dark's instincts scream at him to retreat. He knows what's coming.
Dark: (thinking) Sukojo...!
Sukojo: (urgent) Switch with me! Now!
Dark relinquishes control once more as Sukojo takes over. Cron, his eyes glowing with a deadly light, stands tall once again, his power surging.
Galvecron: (grinning) I am Cron, The God of Copy Magic, The Immortal Copy God. And now, I will show you true power.
With a sweep of his arms, Cron conjures the power of those he's defeated, combining Arsenal Magic and Copy Magic. The air thickens with energy as he raises his hands.
Galvecron: Yuno's Domain World... Void of Perfection.
An immense, suffocating darkness spreads across the arena, enveloping everyone in
The arena is consumed by the overwhelming presence of the Void of Perfection. Darkness, thick and suffocating, covers every inch of the battlefield, a world devoid of light, sound, and hope. The crowd, once roaring with excitement, is silenced, trapped in the eerie stillness that now defines the domain.
Galvecron's voice cuts through the oppressive silence, chilling and omnipotent.
Galvecron: (calmly) Within my Domain, all things are perfect. I copy, I adapt, I conquer.
Suddenly, he vanishes, as if swallowed by the very fabric of his own power. Sukojo, now fully in control of Dark's body, stands motionless, observing with a bored expression.
Sukojo: (thinking) So... this is his Domain World. Hmph. Predictable.
Out of the void, Cron materializes behind Sukojo, intending to take him by surprise. His hands, glowing with a deadly energy, reach toward Sukojo's neck. Normally, within such a domain, any other combatant would be frozen in place, unable to move or react, helpless against the overwhelming force.
But Sukojo does not flinch.
Without moving his head, Sukojo's eyes, calm and unbothered, shift towards Cron. The moment their gazes meet, Cron's confidence wavers. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stumbles back, gasping, recoiling from Sukojo's mere gaze.
Cron: (shocked) What... what are you?
Sukojo, maintaining his bored expression, lifts his right hand, fingers forming a strange gesture. His index finger and middle finger point towards the sky, the others clenched into a fist, while his thumb points upwards. His voice, calm yet dripping with menace, echoes through the void.
Sukojo: (slowly) Ryoronkorosu... Embodiment of Jyhan Don...
The air around Cron shudders violently as four massive gates, each shimmering with dark energy, materialize behind him. Their size is incomprehensible, towering over everything in the domain. A fifth gate, even larger and more menacing, appears in the middle, centered behind the others. Each gate hums with an ominous power, the sheer pressure threatening to tear Cron apart.
Sukojo, with a cold smirk, utters the final syllable.
Sukojo: Ka.
The gates burst open, and from within them, torrents of raw, destructive energy are unleashed. Each gate brings forth a different kind of devastation:
• The first gate releases torrents of pure black fire, so hot that it warps reality itself, searing the air as it engulfs Cron.
• The second gate summons a storm of dark lightning, crackling with lethal intensity, each bolt aimed precisely at Cron, electrifying him with unholy force.
• The third gate vomits forth a swarm of spectral chains, moving with terrifying speed, wrapping around Cron's limbs, binding him in place as they constrict, crushing his bones with relentless pressure.
• The fourth gate produces ghostly apparitions of the enemies Cron has defeated, their hollow eyes accusing as they lash out at him, each blow tearing at his soul.
Cron screams, writhing in agony as the combined might of the gates tears through him. The fifth gate, glowing with an energy beyond comprehension, begins to pulse ominously, drawing in all the destruction and chaos into itself. Then, with a sickening snap, it explodes, sending a shockwave of raw energy that obliterates everything in its path.
When the dust settles, Cron's body is barely recognizable, torn and broken by the onslaught. He collapses to his knees, blood pouring from his wounds. Sukojo, standing over him, looks down with a disgusted expression.
Sukojo: (disappointed) Is that it, Cron? After all these years, this is all you've got? Pathetic.
As Sukojo turns away, the voices of the crowd begin to rise again, filled with fear and disbelief. The sight of such overwhelming power leaves them breathless. From the sidelines, Zara, one of the other combatants, stares in shock, her mind struggling to comprehend what she has just witnessed.
Zara: (whispering) What... what was that?
Leona, standing nearby, her face pale, watches in horror.
Leona: (softly) That was too much... no one should have that kind of power.
Sukojo, sensing their fear, turns towards Zara. A wicked smile spreads across his face as he raises his hand, forming a gun gesture with his fingers, aiming it directly at Zara.
Sukojo: (coldly) Korosu.
A thin, crimson line shoots forth from his fingertip, faster than the eye can see, piercing through Zara's skull in an instant. Blood erupts from her head as the line of death carves straight through her, exiting the back of her skull and embedding itself into the walls of the arena. The impact sends cracks spiraling through the stone, causing part of the arena to collapse.
Zara falls to the ground, lifeless, her body twitching in its final moments.
Sukojo: (smirking) Dumb bitch.
The arena plunges into complete chaos. Spectators scream in terror, scrambling to escape as the walls crumble around them. Amid the madness, Sukojo's sinister laughter fills the air, a sound that chills the bones of everyone who hears it.
Suddenly, the scene cuts to black, Sukojo's laughter fading into the void. In the darkness, a narrator's voice begins to speak, deep and foreboding.
Narrator: When Sukojo uses the technique known as "Ryoronkorosu: Embodiment of Jyhan Don," he summons one of his ultimate abilities, a cataclysmic force that few can withstand. It is said that this technique calls upon the dark energies from forgotten realms, opening gates to powers far beyond mortal comprehension. Each gate represents an aspect of destruction, feeding on the life force and despair of its target.
The narrator's voice fades as the scene begins to shift, returning to the remnants of the arena. Dust fills the air as the camera pans over the destruction left in the wake of Sukojo's attack. The once-proud coliseum lies in ruins, its walls crumbled, its floors cracked and stained with blood.
Sukojo, standing at the center of the chaos, surveys his handiwork with a look of satisfaction. His eyes gleam with a cold amusement, as if he's reveling in the destruction around him.
From the shadows, Leona and Tier watch, their faces pale. Leona, her voice barely a whisper, mutters under her breath.
Leona: (whispering) We have to stop him... but how?
Before she can answer, the camera cuts to Sukojo, who is now walking towards the lifeless body of Cron. He looks down at his fallen enemy with disdain.
Sukojo: (coldly) You were nothing after all. Just another relic of the past.
He turns away, preparing to leave the arena. But before he can take another step, a voice cuts through the air, low and resonant.
Cron: (weakly) I'm... not done yet.
Sukojo pauses, turning slowly. To his shock, Cron's body, broken and bloodied, begins to move. His bones crack and shift as his wounds start to close, his flesh knitting itself back together. Cron rises slowly to his feet, his eyes glowing with a renewed fury.
Galvecron: (gasping) I... am Cron, the God of Copy Magic, the Immortal Copy God.
Sukojo's eyes narrow, intrigued.
Sukojo: (thinking) How is he still alive?
Cron, now fully standing, Cron's aura flares with intensity as he stretches his arms wide, the air crackling with magic. His eyes burn with malevolent energy as he channels Arsenal Magic, Inventory Magic, and Copy Magic simultaneously. The sky above them darkens, a swirling mass of power growing with each moment, threatening to tear reality apart.
Cron: (grinning) You think you know power, Sukojo? Let me show you the culmination of everything I've collected. Every soul, every weapon, every technique I've absorbed... it's all mine! This... this is Empty Space of Everything!
The vortex above them grows larger, tendrils of dark energy and countless weapons swirling inside it. Swords, spears, shields, and mystical artifacts circle the void like a storm, ready to rain destruction upon the arena. The ground beneath their feet trembles, unable to withstand the pressure of Cron's overwhelming magic.
Cron: (laughing) All the powers I've taken, every piece of magic, every life, every weapon—it's all here, waiting for me to use. And you, Sukojo, will be added to my collection! Your soul, your strength, everything you are will be mine!
Cron unleashes a barrage of weapons and magic from the Empty Space of Everything. Blades made of pure energy, arrows crafted from shadows, and hammers infused with destructive magic rain down toward Sukojo. The air hums with lethal energy, as the sheer force of Cron's attack shakes the very fabric of space.
But Sukojo stands still, unfazed by the display. His expression remains bored, barely acknowledging the storm of power bearing down on him.
Cron: (voice growing louder) You feel that, Sukojo? That's the power of God. You might be strong, but you're nothing compared to what I've become. Do you understand? I am the God of Copy Magic, and with each soul I've taken, I've only grown stronger. No one—no one—can stop me!
The weapons get closer, faster, their destructive force poised to overwhelm Sukojo. Yet, in the face of the onslaught, he doesn't move a muscle. His eyes remain half-lidded, showing nothing but disinterest.
Cron: (manic) Fight me! Come on, show me your strength! Let me taste the power you think you have! You think you're so special, don't you? But you're just another toy for me to play with!
The air vibrates as the weapons from Cron's void close in on Sukojo, ready to tear him apart.
Sukojo: (calmly) Boring.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a thin, razor-sharp line of energy cuts through the air. It moves so quickly that Cron barely has time to register it. The line slices through Cron's body, cutting him clean in half before the magic can even reach Sukojo.
For a moment, there's silence. Cron's body falls apart, blood spraying in every direction. But before the pieces can hit the ground, they begin to reform, knitting back together as if nothing had happened. Cron, now fully regenerated, looks at Sukojo, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Cron: (laughing madly) Ah! There it is! That's the kind of power I want! But do you really think that's enough to stop me? I've survived worse. You can cut me down all you want, but I'll just keep coming back! You'll never win, Sukojo. I've mastered magic beyond your understanding.
The sky crackles with dark energy as Cron's body fully regenerates, his laughter echoing through the arena. The weapons swirling in the Empty Space of Everything grow more violent, shimmering with destructive force. Cron's face twists into a grin, reveling in his own immortality.
Cron: (grinning) You can slice me in half, tear me apart a thousand times, and I'll just keep coming back! You see, Sukojo, what I have here... it's not just magic. It's a perfect system. Every power, every weapon, every soul I've claimed, they all feed into this. You think you can cut through me? You think your strength is enough? You're just a shadow in a storm you can't control!
Cron lifts his arms, and a dozen more versions of himself appear, each wielding a different weapon from the Empty Space of Everything. They surround Sukojo, closing in with a mix of twisted grins and lethal intent. Their weapons glow with the essence of the magic Cron has stolen over millennia.
Cron: (smirking) Let's see how you handle multiple versions of me, each more powerful than the last. Every one of them carries a fragment of my power—every one of them is as dangerous as the original. Come on, Sukojo, let's see you get out of this one!
The clones rush at Sukojo from all angles, their weapons raised to strike. Energy flares in the air, crackling with the sheer force of their attacks. Yet, despite the overwhelming onslaught, Sukojo remains calm, his bored expression never faltering.
Sukojo: (yawning) I'm done with this.
With a slight flick of his wrist, a thin line of energy slashes through the arena. It's almost invisible, but its effect is immediate and devastating. The clones of Cron are instantly obliterated, cut down before they can even swing their weapons. The arena trembles as the energy line continues, cutting through everything in its path, leaving a scar across the battlefield.
Cron's eyes widen slightly as the main version of himself is cut clean in half again. His body collapses into two pieces, but before it even hits the ground, it begins to regenerate once more. His laughter, however, doesn't stop.
Cron: (laughing madly) Oh, now you're starting to get it! But even that won't work. I'll just keep coming back. No matter what you do, I'll keep rising, stronger than before. It's pointless, Sukojo. You'll never defeat me!
Sukojo watches as Cron regenerates again, his expression never changing. He sighs, clearly unimpressed.
Sukojo: (calmly) You talk too much.
Cron: (grinning) Well, I have to talk. It's the last thing you'll ever hear before I—
Before Cron can finish his sentence, Sukojo flicks his wrist again. Another line of energy shoots through the air, slicing Cron into pieces once more. But this time, instead of continuing the fight, Sukojo steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate.
Sukojo: (bored) This is getting old. How about we make a deal?
Cron, now in the process of regenerating again, raises an eyebrow, intrigued.
Cron: (grinning) A deal? Now that's interesting. What kind of deal could you possibly offer me?
Sukojo: (calmly) I need a body. You can create one, right? Use your magic, make me a new body, and I'll leave this one.
Cron pauses, considering Sukojo's proposal. His eyes narrow as he weighs his options. The air between them hums with tension, the void still swirling ominously above.
Cron: (slowly) And what do I get in return?
Sukojo: (smirking) A chance to fight the real me, in my own body. Not this shadow of what I used to be. If you're as powerful as you claim, it should be the fight of your life.
Cron's grin returns, wider than ever.
Cron: (laughing) A real fight, huh? That's tempting. Fine, I'll make you a body. But when this is over, Sukojo, don't think I'll go easy on you just because we made a deal.
Sukojo: (bored) I wasn't expecting you to.
Cron raises his hand, summoning his Copy Magic. The air shimmers, and a new body begins to form—a tall, muscular figure, perfectly sculpted and devoid of life. It hovers in the air for a moment before gently touching down on the ground.
Cron: (grinning) There. A brand-new body, just for you. Now, let's see if you can live up to the challenge, Sukojo.
Sukojo, now fully in his own body, doesn't even glance back at Cron. His hands remain in the pockets of his black and white kimono as he raises his right hand just slightly. With that minimal motion, reality warps in an instant. Cron's entire body is sliced from bottom to top, but not with just one cut—trillions of cuts, each finer than a thread of light, rip through him. In the span of a blink, Cron's body shreds into millions of pieces, the sheer precision of the slices rendering him almost unrecognizable for a moment.
Sukojo begins to walk away, his steps calm and measured, not giving Cron a second thought. But, before he can even take a few steps, a chuckle echoes through the air.
Cron: (grinning as his body reforms from the countless slashes) You should never leave a fight before making sure your opponent is truly dead. It's a rookie mistake, Sukojo.
Cron stands up, fully healed, his smirk never faltering. Sukojo stops but doesn't turn around. He yawns, the action slow and deliberate, his boredom palpable.
Sukojo: (calmly) Shut the fuck up.
His voice carries with it the weight of absolute indifference, as if Cron is nothing more than a persistent annoyance. Sukojo slides his hand back into his pocket, as if even acknowledging Cron is a waste of his time.
Meanwhile, in the midst of the tension, Dark begins to stir. His vision slowly clears as his eyes open. His body feels heavy, but an overwhelming sense of dread fills him as he realizes who is standing in front of him. Sukojo—free, no longer confined within him. His heart pounds in his chest, and he instinctively backs away, trying to put distance between himself and the monster who had once shared his body.
Dark: (thinking) He's free... I'm free from him... but if Sukojo is free, that's a danger to everything. Not just this world, not just this galaxy... but everything. Beyond everything.
Dark's mind races as he watches Sukojo and Cron stand before each other, their auras clashing like titanic forces. Sukojo's appearance is different now. His black and white kimono billows slightly in the breeze, his hands casually tucked into the pockets, and his hair—though Dark doesn't pay much attention to it now—seems almost alive with an otherworldly energy.
Cron: (grinning) Shall we continue, Sukojo?
Sukojo doesn't respond at first. Instead, he gives a lazy glance toward Cron, his expression still one of pure boredom. He seems unbothered, almost detached from the gravity of the moment. But as Cron raises his power, the atmosphere around them grows heavy. The planet itself begins to tremble under the weight of their impending battle.
Without warning, Cron strikes first. The force of his attack shatters the ground beneath them, sending shockwaves through the atmosphere. Sukojo moves effortlessly, dodging Cron's blows with an ease that belies the power behind them. Every clash between them sends ripples through space, breaking the boundaries of the planet and extending into the galaxy itself. Stars flicker and die, black holes distort reality, and even time itself warps under the force of their conflict.
The fight rages on, pushing the limits of the universe. Entire galaxies are torn apart, the very fabric of space-time unraveling with each strike. But then, just as the destruction reaches its peak—something shifts.
A strange force suddenly intervenes. The shattered planets, the torn fabric of space, the chaos beyond comprehension—all of it suddenly resets. The universe, once on the brink of collapse, snaps back into place as if nothing had happened. The two combatants freeze for a moment, their eyes locking onto something beyond the battlefield, something neither of them can see but both are acutely aware of.
Sukojo and Cron exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between them.
Cron: (grinning) Guess we'll have to finish this another time.
Sukojo: (calmly) Hmph. Next time.
With that, Sukojo disappears without a trace, his body dissolving into nothingness, leaving behind only the faintest echo of his presence. The air still hums with the energy of their battle, but the tension has lifted. Dark, still reeling from what he just witnessed, begins to feel his body give out. The adrenaline fades, and his vision starts to blur.
Dark: (thinking) Sukojo's... gone...
His body collapses to the ground, his consciousness fading as exhaustion overtakes him. Cron watches him for a moment before shaking his head with a smirk.
Cron: (sighing) So I've been living since beyond the Big Bang, and everything else... just so I can carry this child?
Cron crouches down, effortlessly lifting Dark's unconscious body onto his shoulders. As he does, his expression shifts from amusement to something more contemplative, as though a deeper understanding of the situation is dawning on him.
Cron: (softly) Shou...Cosmic...Hah you guys really do have your hands in everything, don't you?
Cron looks out toward the horizon, then pulls out a small device from his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, he opens a communication channel.
Cron: (calmly) Leona, Tier... come meet me. We need to head to Tier's house.
Leona: (thinking) Huh? Is he for real? We just met him...
Tier: (thinking) Crap....
The scene fades as Cron begins to walk, carrying Dark's limp body on his back, the weight of the universe's secrets hanging in the air. His steps are slow but purposeful as he moves toward the mountains, knowing that whatever comes next, the story is far from over.
End of Chapter 10.