Date (Real World): Wednesday, March 1, 2025. 4:35 AM.
Location: The Axiomatic White Room.
The blinding white flash of the Reality Punch faded, leaving the infinite void silent once more. The massive, gothic structure of the Death House had dissolved, taking the conceptual debris of the battle with it.
Null stood alone, his chest heaving, his body trembling violently. The 30% power of the Half-Written Lord flickered and died, unable to sustain itself without a target. His breathing was ragged, each inhale a sharp reminder of the conceptual agony he had just endured the ripping of his own arm, the burning of his skin, the crushing weight of a god's kinetic force. Even with his regeneration, the memory of the pain was etched into his psyche.
Before him lay Satan 666.
The False Son was no longer a towering, scaled monster. He was human-sized, his white hair matted with conceptual blood, his body scarred and broken. The Demon of the Bloodied Sea had been punched out of existence, taking with it the stolen power, the scales, and the red eyes. What remained was just a man—an ancient, tired soul who had played the villain for far too long.
Null walked forward, his steps heavy. He stopped over the fading body.
Satan's chest rose and fell in shallow, hitching breaths. His body was beginning to dissolve, turning into motes of white light that drifted upward into the nothingness.
He opened his eyes. They were no longer red. They were a soft, human brown, filled with a profound, exhausting clarity.
Satan smiled, but this time, it wasn't the manic grin of a monster. It was weak, genuine, and sad.
"I'm assuming you're looking for this... right?" Satan whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the void.
With a trembling hand, he reached into the tattered remains of his shirt and pulled out a small, glowing shard. It pulsed with a deep, resonant crimson light.
It was the final Echo. The last piece of Null's fractured memory.
"I skipped the hunt," Satan murmured, his hand shaking as he held it up. "I knew you were moving too fast. You missed the final Echo roaming freely. So I caught it for you."
Null stared at the shard, his heart pounding. "Why?"
"I have placed my tech... the knowledge of how to merge... it's within your last memory," Satan explained, coughing as his physical form began to lose cohesion. "If you really want to win this war, brat... take this. It's my last wish."
Tears began to form in Satan's human eyes. The terrifying black cross pupil that had mimicked Null's authority faded away, leaving only the reflection of a man who had been lonely for eons. A dark mist began to flow from his body, funneling directly into the memory shard, infusing it with his own final essence.
"No matter... what we were or are... we still have to help each other," Satan said, his voice fading. "Race, origin, sin... none of it is important now. Please, Null... kill Lucifer. He awaits you. And may our battle have taught you something new."
He took one last, shuddering breath. The hand holding the shard went limp. The body of the man who had been the False God, the King's Commander, and the lonely orphan finally dissolved completely into light.
Subject: Satan 666 (False Son)
Age: 30+ (Chronologically 100000+) Status: Deceased (Conceptually Released)
Null stood in the silence, his mind reeling. He looked down at the pile of ash and empty clothes that marked the end of his greatest enemy. The shard sat on top of the pile, glowing softly.
"I will," Null answered the empty air.
He reached down and took the shard.
The moment his fingers touched the red crystal, the reaction was instantaneous. The shard liquefied, flowing into his skin like water. It traveled up his arm, straight to his heart, and merged with the cracked Shadow Prime Stone.
F U S I O N.
The crack in the stone, the wound Soren had inflicted upon himself to save the world, finally healed. The two halves of his soul—Null and Soren—slammed together with the force of a collapsing star.
The power didn't explode outward; it imploded, condensing into a point of perfect, terrifying stability. All of his volatile, raging energy tuned down, settling into a deep, oceanic calm.
Null's physical transformation began.
His hair, which had been the chaotic mix of black and white, shifted. The color drained and refilled, settling into a uniform, dazzling white-silver. It was the color of starlight, the mark of a being who had fully awakened.
The heavy, jagged Black Crown that had hovered over his head dissolved into smoke, but it didn't vanish. The smoke swirled down, entering his eyes.
His eyes changed for the final time. The chaotic inversion vanished. His irises returned to the cold, judgmental pure grey of the Silver King, but the pupil was no longer black. It was a stark, radiant white cross.
His arm—the one he had ripped off and replaced with darkness—remained black, a permanent reminder of his sacrifice. But the white spirals that had wound around it retracted, sinking deep into the "flesh" of the shadow, becoming internal veins of light power.
Finally, the massive Shadow Scythe dissolved. It didn't disappear into the void; it shrank, embedding itself as a black, tattoo-like mark on his forearm. He felt the weapon there, ready to be drawn instantly without the need for a transformation.
He was whole. He was complete. He was the Silver King.
Null swayed on his feet. The rush of power was gone, replaced by the crushing weight of total exhaustion. The physical and mental toll of the battle, the self-mutilation, and the fusion finally caught up to him.
He tried to project a thought. Fang...
"No need for that," a familiar voice rumbled.
Fang landed softly on the white floor of the Axiomatic dimension. He was in his human form, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of pride and relief.
Null couldn't speak. His legs gave out. He fell forward, collapsing.
Fang caught him easily, holding the unconscious King in his arms. Null's head rested against Fang's shoulder, his breathing deep and even for the first time in days.
Fang looked down at the sleeping boy, a small smile touching his lips.
"Looks like you overdid it," Fang whispered. "But this war isn't over. I'm sure the rest of the team will be able to do it themsel—"
Fang paused, looking closely at Null's closed eyes. He sensed the new energy signature radiating from the boy—the stable, immense power of the completed Code.
"Ohh," Fang murmured, his smile widening. "Looks like your cross-eye seals are fully awakened. That's wonderful now."
With a gentle wave of his hand, Fang conjured a floating bed made of soft, solidified darkness. He placed Null carefully onto it.
Fang turned, slashing a hand through the air. A portal opened—not to the ruined Japan, but directly back to the safety of the Wonder World.
He stepped through, pulling the floating bed behind him, taking the sleeping King home.
End of chapter 73
See you later