Chapter Four
The Primordial felt a thrill like never before. His challenge had been accepted. He had risen fast in his realm, wielding powers far beyond what he had ever imagined possible.
Every ability, every shred of strength should have satisfied him. But it did not. He hungered for more, something no race could give or take away.
He knew growth in his realm would boost his power, but the time it would take was unimaginable.... ages, perhaps more. So he chose the easier path. He would take down an usurper and become one himself. By doing that, he would ascend to the peak of the eighth realm.
Out of the six current usurpers who ruled the eighth realm, one stood apart. One cast a shadow over them all. One name whispered even among legends with awe and fear.... Vastro Trasle, the Usurper of the Abyss.
Every other usurper's deeds stretched the limits of imagination, leaving even those who heard of them pausing to catch their breath. And yet, Vastro Trasle's deeds were unrecorded, unknown, almost erased from memory. Most would not even know he existed if not for subtle, dangerous hints.
The Primordial thought he was taking the easy way out. Vastro's throne, the abyss, would be his.
But he did not know he had already signed his own death warrant.
Vastro Trasle was not unknown because he was weak. Far from it. He was wild, untamed, and incomparably powerful. The other usurpers, bound by the limits of their domains, had deliberately kept knowledge of him sealed away.
Some even believed that merely knowing of him would invite endless misfortune. And yet, somehow, this newcomer had risen, ascended, and stood before him, challenging him here and now.
The Primordial expected refusal. All usurpers were proud beyond reason. They would reject any challenge that insulted them, no matter who dared to raise it. And yet, Vastro Tasle's response was calm, almost gentle.
"I accept your challenge," he said, smiling.
A flicker of conscience passed through the Primordial. Why should he kill someone so composed, so… kind? But there could be no hesitation. This was something that had to be done.
Soon the two beings stood on a grand stage. Unlike most Eternal Conquests, where warriors from across existence gathered to watch, only a select few were present.
Though few, the crowd still numbered millions, all eyes fixed on the stage.
"Which foolish race sends this moron to challenge Lord Vastro?" one being whispered to another.
The other shrugged. "What is there to speculate? That Primordial is already dead meat. Anyone want to bet how long before he ceases to exist?"
Speculations rippled through the crowd. Two moves, one move, a single glance, some said. All bets were made confidently. All thought they knew the outcome. All were wrong.
All of their bets, all their whispers.... they were not hyping up the usurper at all. They had no idea. And the Primordial was about to learn that the hard way.
Vastro stepped onto the stage, calm, with that small, faint smile curling at his lips. It had been a very, very long time since he had felt the thrill of battle.
This Primordial was not on his level, but even so, Vastro thought he might at least entertain him a little. And with that thought, he decided to make the fight even more amusing.
He stood tall, serene, and spoke clearly.
"Okay, i've decided to make this easy for you." His finger lifted, slow, deliberate. "Unleash your mightiest attack. Everything you have, on this finger. If it moves, if it changes in the slightest, I'll count it your win. You can take the throne." His tone was neutral, calm, yet laced with deadly certainty.
The Primordial trembled with irritation. No body, no expression, yet every fiber of his being burned with rage. To hell with being polite, to hell with restraint. This damn usurper was looking down on him. And he would make him pay.
Energy converged. The stars on the Primordial's body blazed brighter than the sun. Then dimmed. Every ounce of that gathered power channeled into a single strike.
Time itself was about to bend.
He could have erased Vastro from the timeline entirely, wielding the most powerful law he had mastered in this realm. But why erase him when he could make him suffer more? Let him exist across all timelines, yet be nothing.
Let him feel every second of existence without ever truly existing. This punishment, subtle yet absolute, was beyond comprehension. No one wanted to endure it.
The Primordial's eyes expected fear, terror, agony. But there was none. Vastro's face remained calm, smiling, his finger still held out. Fury surged through the Primordial like molten fire.
The attack launched. Faster than thought, it cut across the fabric of existence itself. Every timeline. Every alternate self. Every shadow of what was, and what could be.
It should have worked. Every version of Vastro across all infinity should have screamed, should have been shredded. But instead… the Primordial felt something utterly wrong. Terrifying. Inescapable.
Before he could react, the attack collided with nothing but endless void.
Every infinite fracture of Vastro that should have existed, every timeline, every possible existence.... gone. Replaced by nothingness stretching beyond the eye, across all of infinite time.
And at the same time, the void devoured part of the Primordial's own life force, consuming the raw power he had poured into the attack. Had he tried to stop mid-way, he would have been obliterated by the abyss itself.
A few seconds later, the Primordial let out an agonizing scream and collapsed to his knees, sending tremors rippling through the vast arena. His attack had landed.... but done nothing.
Instead, he had sustained damage to his very life force, a wound so deep it would take him an eternity to heal, if he could even recover at all.
Thoughts raced through his mind. He realized something horrifying. Despite concentrating his attack on every being in the arena, subconsciously, it had been aimed at the usurper's finger. And the finger hadn't moved. Not an inch.
A terrifying, soul-shattering realization gripped him. He had made a catastrophic mistake. Every rumor, every story about this usurper... Vastro.... was an understatement. He was far more dangerous than anyone had imagined.
The Primordial's pride shattered. He knew, without anyone telling him, that the battle was already lost. He bowed, trembling, begging for mercy. He had no illusions.... his existence could end at any moment because of his own foolishness.
For a brief, horrifying moment, he dared to hope. Vastro had proven calm and merciful before. Maybe… just maybe, he would spare him.
Then he looked up.
Vastro was no longer smiling. His face was lit with restrained disappointment, and that disappointment twisted into annoyance.
"Really? That's it?" Vastro whispered, the word carrying fury so subtle yet so absolute it sent the laws around them into disorder.
The arena itself quaked under the weight of his aura.
The Primordial's panic surged. His attack hadn't even scratched the usurper. Not an itch. The thought of wasted time, of his efforts being meaningless, ignited a cosmic blue flame in Vastro's eyes.
The very air around him rippled with power, warping reality, shaking the fabric of existence to the brink of destruction.
Vastro raised a hand. A black orb of energy materialized, swirling with boundless destruction.
The sheer magnitude of it terrified the Primordial. Even in his weakened state, facing the orb was a death sentence. If he had been at full strength, the chances of survival would have been minuscule—if not impossible.
"Mercy…" The Primordial's voice distorted in terror as he begged, screamed, clawed for a chance to live. But nothing could save him.
Vastro was not just the most powerful usurper in existence. He was the most ruthless. The strongest, deadliest slayer every usurper feared. The ruler of the abyss himself.
The orb struck. Pure destruction surged into the Primordial's body. And in the next heartbeat, he was gone. Erased. Every fragment of him wiped from existence as if he had never lived.
Vastro stared at the space where the Primordial had stood minutes before. His face was unreadable, impassive. He hadn't even meant to fully erase him. He had considered giving the Primordial a chance at reincarnation if his soul reached the No Realm.
But in the heat of the moment, Vastro had poured slightly more power than necessary, obliterating the Primordial completely from the surface of existence.
It had been too easy. Too boring.
To be continued.....