The cries of Hunters and Veras dominated across the torn wasteland, a haunting rhythm to a war that refused to end. Bones were scattered like broken stars.
The light that was left now gone, swallowed by the annular eclipse. Only a crimson gleam pulsed across the sky, painting everything in shades of despair.
Amidst the suffocating darkness,
Azmaik descended silently. Just a presence so cold and heavy that the air itself seemed to bend in pain. His black celestial robe rippled like it was alive, stitched with faint golden veins that pulsed as if the fabric itself carried blood. The ground cracked where he stepped. Behind his mask, his eyes burned with a void light. A mix of godhood and hatred.
As he walked, the skeleton armies bowed. The vampires froze in reverence. And one by one, the countless Vera avatars turned to dust under his unseen pressure.
Azmaik's gaze fell on a figure ahead. It wasn't a god, legend or any celestial being, a young hunter. His shirt was torn, skin bleeding, yet his eyes burned bright with courage.
A small dagger in one hand, a broken sword in the other. His knees trembled, but he didn't back away.
Azmaik's voice was cold and depressed,
"Bravery…. in a child's body. Foolish, but admirable."
The boy raised his sword weakly. "Someone has to stop you and I will!"
Azmaik smiled beneath the mask not kindly, but with the amusement of a predator. He slowly unsheathed his blade dark and older than light. "Allow me to introduce your courage to the world, sir."
The duel began.
The boy attacked quick and wildly. His blade barely grazed Azmaik's robe before the return swing came, cutting through air faster than thought. The boy barely dodged, his sleeve torn apart. Azmaik moved like a merciless predator; each slash whistled through the air, vibrating the ground beneath their feet.
The boy parried with both weapons, sparks bursting. His footwork was erratic, untrained but there was calculation in the chaos. He used his wounds, his stumbles, to bait Azmaik closer.
Azmaik noticed it. He smirked. "Trying to read me?"
Before the boy could respond, Azmaik vanished. A blur. A cut followed. One move so fast it tore through sound. The boy's right arm hit the ground, blood spraying in an arc. He staggered but didn't scream. With his remaining hand, he held the sword steady.
"Still standing?" Azmaik asked, curious.
The boy's voice trembled. "If I fall, someone else will stand."
Azmaik's smile faded. His next strike came faster than before. The boy couldn't block; he only raised his sword in reflex. Sparks exploded, his knees hit the dirt.
Azmaik whispered, "You've done enough."
The boy suddenly stepped in then forward. Sacrificing his last arm, he forced his sword upward, letting Azmaik's blade tear through his shoulder while his own sliced across Azmaik's throat.
Blood spilled out. Azmaik's eyes widened as he felt the cut burn. The boy's body fell backward, broken but the blade had reached its mark.
Azmaik's hand trembled on his wound. He kicked the boy's body aside but it vanished.
He turned sharply.
Tom was standing behind him, the boy cradled gently in his arms. His expression was hollow and too calm for the chaos around them.
The boy, half-conscious, whispered weakly, "Brother.…"
Tom's eyes softened. "You fought well. Rest now."
The boy smiled faintly. His head leaned to Tom's shoulder. Then his last breath fell.
Tom stood still for a long second. He knelt, laying the boy carefully on the ground carefully, as though the child was just asleep.
Then, without warning, Tom vanished and reappeared right before Azmaik, his hand gripping his throat in a flash of blue riftlight.
Azmaik's feet lifted from the ground.
The sand exploded around them as a new tear in space spiraled open. Both figures disappeared within it, leaving behind silence and the memory of a boy who dared to stand against a god.
The two reappeared far away from the battlefield in the middle of a cold wasteland. The air itself felt dead, wind scraping across endless plains of cracked frost. A frozen aurora hung above, twisting like the veins of a dying sky.
Tom exhaled, steam rising from his mouth. The temperature dropped so fast that his skin burned instead of numbing. His knuckles were white in from rage.
Across from him, Azmaik stood calmly, brushing off his robe as if they had simply teleported for a quiet chat. The black celestial cloth shifted, absorbing the frost from the ground.
Tom finally spoke, his tone low, sharp. "You're the one behind all of this."
Azmaik smiled with the composure of someone who had seen countless mortals curse his name. "Behind it? Perhaps. I merely pushed the world where it was already falling."
Tom's jaw tightened. "You destroyed lives. You caused the Overseer's descent. Everyone will die because of your acts."
Azmaik's eyes glimmered like glaciers under moonlight. "And here you are standing, more powerful than ever. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"
Tom's hands clenched into fists. "I'll thank you when I tear your head off."
Azmaik laughed softly with a chill walk. "Then come, hunter. Let's see if your rage can warm this frozen night."
The ground shook. Tom's aura flared black, melting the sand beneath his boots. His Face materialized — Hawking's Trojan Chair floating behind him, its presence shone like a cosmic engine.
Azmaik extended a hand. His Face appeared the " Polar Highness ". A humanoid polar bear wrapped in a white ceremonial robe, fur glowing faintly like snow under sunlight. Its eyes were gentle, almost holy, but its aura froze the very air into crystal dust.
Azmaik tilted his head, mocking. "You must feel honored, seeing divinity up so close."
Tom smirked. "Looks like a fancy carpet with arms."
Azmaik's smile faltered. "I see, you have a professor husk."
He snapped his fingers.
The entire plain erupted in a blizzard. From the sand, enormous orbs began to form. Wet, dense snowballs, pulsing with freezing energy. Each was heavier than steel, moving with unnatural precision. They spun around Azmaik like celestial weapons, whistling through the air.
One shot forward.
Tom dodged barely. It crashed behind him, carving through the frozen terrain like a cannonball through water. The ground split open in a clean arc, shards of ice flying miles into the sky.
Another followed faster. Tom raised his arm, creating a gravitational pulse that deflected it, but the weight shattered his defense like glass. He staggered back, blood dripping from his nose.
Azmaik's laughter recalled. "These are cryomass spheres. No one but I can command them. They are too dense."
Tom gritted his teeth. " I'll simply break you first."
He rushed forward, vanishing in a blur. The moment he reappeared, Azmaik's hand flicked. Another sphere cut through the air, grazing Tom's side, shredding his armor. The impact sent him spinning through the air but he landed on his feet, sliding backward.
Tom's mind raced with messes. He analyzed every motion, every move Azmaik took. He couldn't overpower those spheres.
Azmaik spread his arms, the spheres orbiting faster. His voice was low and godlike.
"You're not fighting me, Tom. You're fighting inevitability. I am what the world becomes when it stops pretending to be fair."
Tom smirked through the pain. "Then maybe it's time someone unfair fights back."
He charged gravity bending around him.
Azmaik moved as well, elegant, merciless.