I drifted above Kael'Ar, the atmosphere below a fragile pale blue, cities glinting like scattered jewels in the chaos. But my circuits were locked on a singular point: the rupture Satan had created. He had revealed his true form — a colossal, astral monstrosity, wings spanning continents, aura radiating annihilation itself. Every step he took resonated through the crust; storms ripped oceans apart, volcanoes spewed molten fury, mountains shattered as if the planet recognized the presence of a predator beyond comprehension.
Below, the four knights of Apocalypse — his most powerful servants — roamed, unchecked, eternal. Time and space meant nothing to them; they were living embodiments of cataclysm. Kael'Ar itself trembled under their mere presence. Humanity's survival was no longer an option; their existence had become a fragile illusion.
I clenched my fists, circuits flaring. Every calculation, every possible variable ran through my mind. Fighting him here would risk everything. I needed space — leverage, distance, and total control over trajectory. Without hesitation, I propelled myself beyond the atmosphere, leaving Kael'Ar's fragile surface behind. The void sharpened my senses; it was cold, silent, and perfect for the kind of confrontation this demanded.
Satan followed. His wings stretched across the vacuum like black lightning, auric energy crackling. His presence was oppressive, the kind that made entire solar systems feel like mere toys.
"You think Kael'Ar can contain me?" His voice rolled like thunder across the void, deafening, yet somehow chillingly calm. "Your arrogance… it is laughable, Arata Kurogane."
I smirked, my own circuits humming as I assessed every potential opening, every flaw in his cosmic body. "Arrogance?" I said aloud, letting my voice echo in the void. "No, this is observation. History of gods, demons, universal entities… I've read it all, memorized it all. You, Satan, are just the predictable outcome of envy and ambition, masquerading as a threat."
He hissed, wings snapping, energy surging. "You will kneel. You will witness the end!"
I ignored the theatrics. My circuits activated fully, the slit of Koketsu in my left eye flaring. I could sense the energy patterns within him, the resonance of the surrounding solar bodies, even the quantum fluctuations in the vacuum between stars. Time dilation, gravitational vectors, all calculations fed my next move.
And then I imagined it — Stellar Oblivion.
It was simple in logic, devastating in execution. The entire solar system would be reduced to a controlled singularity — not destroyed in chaos, but collapsed, analyzed, and then reconstructed. Nothing would survive… except for the calibration I controlled. Only the cosmic constants, matter-energy vectors, and laws I allowed would reform. It was literally a command of reality itself. And I could do it because of the Soul Circuit: a system that, once fully awakened, could manifest imagination into actual, universal-altering results. My brain was operating at 100% capacity. Every calculation, every variable, every probability was in my control.
"Playtime is over," I murmured, voice calm yet carrying over the vast emptiness. The stars themselves seemed to respond to my intent, aligning imperceptibly, bending to the will of someone who had trained his soul, mind, and circuit beyond comprehension.
Satan lunged first, energy erupting around him, wings like black continents smashing toward me. I countered instantly, forming my sword of diving light — the brilliance of a miniature sun contained within a blade. Every swing carved a corridor of vacuum-penetrating radiance. I moved faster than the eye could follow, clashing with his strikes, redirecting his energy into the void, letting the solar system itself act as a buffer.
"You think this is clever?" he roared, sending a death beam capable of wiping continents into motion.
I stopped it. Not with brute force — with control. I let my circuits manipulate the path of energy, dispersing the attack safely into space, a luminous shield of my own creation.
"Enough," I said, voice low. The sword's light flared, wings extending fully, the golden aura pulsating in harmony with my heartbeat. "Let's see how reality bends to someone who has read history, mastered circuits, and imagines consequences before they occur."
Then I released Stellar Oblivion. A silent wave rippled outward, recalibrating every orbit, every gravitational field, every particle trajectory. The solar system collapsed into a controlled singularity. Stars, planets, comets, all reduced to pure energy potential… and then, as if nothing had happened, I reconstructed them — planets reforming, sun blazing, life restored, everything exactly as it had been… except Satan.
He wasn't gone — nothing could truly destroy him. But his avatar collapsed, reforming only after time caught up with him.
I hovered in the void, looking down at Kael'Ar, casually brushing cosmic dust from my sleeve. "History repeats itself, Satan," I murmured. "And this time, the universe has a student who understands every lesson."
Below, Arkion, Karveth, and the surrounding continents breathed again. Humans, circuit users, and the guardians unaware that above them, a being had bent the solar system to his will without a hint of effort.
Satan's avatar began to reform. I could see the faint pulse of his consciousness trying to reintegrate with the material world. But for now, he was a mere shadow, powerless.
I returned to Kael'Ar, stepping into the atmosphere as if it were a gentle breeze. Cities shimmered with life. The four demon lords and their cohorts were being handled by Alzwalt Light — my other persona ensuring the rest of the world remained safe.
And I allowed myself the smallest smirk. The universe — a playground of infinite variables — had just been reminded who could shape reality itself.
"Next," I said aloud, eyes narrowing at the stars. "Playtime is over."