Looking at the constantly twisting paper doll—no, the Grim Reaper—before him, Diluc spoke calmly:
"I have answered your question. Now, it is your turn to answer mine."
At his words, a steady rustling filled the air, like paper being rubbed together.
"Yes. The question is logically sound, and the information exchange follows proper protocol."
"I'm curious," Diluc continued, his voice clear and chilling as it echoed through the quiet alley, "why are you so obsessed with killing everyone on Flight 180?"
He paused, then added, "And why did you suddenly change your target and kill Uehisa, who wasn't even on the passenger list?"
The scraps of paper composing Death's form began to tumble in a rhythmic pattern, as if performing precise calculations, before responding:
"Objective One: Eliminating the passengers of Flight 180 is necessary to claim dominion over death and misfortune in this dimension. Each meticulously orchestrated demise strengthens my control over this reality's governing rules."
"Target Two: An individual named Damian possesses an anomalous concentration of change. Data analysis indicates that orchestrating his death would accelerate my acquisition of power by 37.41%."
Risk Assessment: Target strength rating: D–. Classification: Easily manageable.
The moment the words left its form, the paper scraps whirled more rapidly, their rustling growing frantic:
"Warning: Although you possess equipment capable of observing me and collapsing my conceptual form into physical reality, your current strength rating is B+. Probability of defeating me: 2.3%."
Recommendation: Submit to me. In return, I will appoint you as the first Folded of this dimension—a position of unparalleled privilege. This is your optimal course of action."
Diluc ignored the cold offer. A mocking smile played on his lips as he replied:
"I think you've misunderstood something. I've long known a simple truth: only a god can defeat a god."
"Call out!"
As he spoke, the Black Rock Slasher—embedded in the nearby wall—suddenly tore free and flew into Diluc's waiting hand.
Blazing black-and-red flames erupted along the blade, illuminating the alley in hellish radiance.
"Even if you're nothing more than a pathetic god who relies on accidents and elaborate schemes to kill… you're still a god."
The paper figure's flipping motion stuttered, its rhythm thrown into chaos—as though the answer had exceeded its computational parameters.
"So," Diluc said softly, raising the Black Rock Slasher. Behind his glasses, his sharp gaze locked onto Death. "Your opponent has never been me."
The moment the words left his mouth, Death detected a violent fluctuation in dimensional parameters.
In a fraction of a second, it initiated emergency protocols:
"Warning: Spatial structure deconstructing. Initiating dimensional coordinate calibration…"
Countless paper scraps spun at blinding speed, creating a dense, whispering storm:
"Loss of real-dimensional anchor detected. Engaging emergency dimensional positioning protocol…"
But it was too late.
Diluc's form flickered—first transparent, then gone. The alley, the buildings, the very streetlights—all vanished as if scrubbed from existence by an unseen eraser.
Death scrambled to construct a reverse teleportation matrix. Complex geometric patterns formed from whirling paper in the air:
"Error: Unable to interface with real-dimension infrastructure. Spatial continuity compromised…"
In the distance, skyscrapers began to crumble and dissolve. Death calculated desperately:
"Attempting to establish new dimensional reference… Failed. Higher-order spatial overlay detected…"
Then—silence.
Reality ceased.
Death found itself standing in an alien expanse.
Initial scan completed in nanoseconds:
New Dimension Identification: Unmeasurable
Spatial Stability: Extremely high
Energy Signature: Abnormal
Commencing full environmental analysis…
Beneath its feet stretched an endless arena paved with glowing purple crystals. Towering in the distance were structures unlike anything in known cosmology—countless colossal torii gates stretching into infinity. The sky roiled with thunder, bathed in an eerie, pulsing violet light.
"Attempting spatial coordinate mapping… Failed."
Dimensional Barrier Strength: Immeasurable
Analyzing ambient energy composition…
The paper scraps spun so fast they seemed on the verge of combustion:
"Divine signature detected. Signal intensity exceeds baseline by orders of magnitude. Warning: Encounter with high-tier divine entity confirmed."
Then—it saw her.
A solitary purple-clad woman floated before it, serene and still.
Target Identification: Higher-order divine entity
Energy Level: Incalculable
Threat Assessment: Catastrophic
Death triggered its emergency evacuation sequence:
"Initiating conceptual-state reversion… Error: Material entanglement irreversible."
"Attempting quantum tunneling… Error: Spatial matrix too stable."
Its form fragmented and reassembled in rapid succession as it ran through every possible contingency:
Option 1: Negotiation… Success probability: 0.0001%
Option 2: Resistance… Success probability: 0.0%
Option 3: Surrender… Calculating…
Before the calculation could finish, the woman opened her eyes.
Her gaze struck Death like a physical force—halting every process, freezing every thought.
"I once promised my subjects a dream," she said, her voice rolling like thunder through the void. "An eternal dream—unchanging across ten thousand generations."
"Whoever seeks to disturb that dream… no matter who they are… will be impaled by my own hand upon the silent, eternal wall."
"You are no exception."
At that instant, the paper scraps composing Death's body ceased all motion—as if time itself had pressed pause. Every algorithm, every strategy, every escape route dissolved into meaninglessness.
Sizzle… sizzle… sizzle—
Raiden raised her hand and clenched a fist before her chest. With a blinding flash of violet lightning, Dream Heart—a blade shimmering with apocalyptic energy—slowly withdrew itself from its snow-white scabbard.
BOOM!!
The moment the sword cleared its sheath, Raiden swung.
Above her, space tore open like fabric, revealing a colossal, eye-shaped rift.
WHOOSH—!
From the abyss, a titanic armored arm—wielding a katana identical to Dream Heart but magnified a hundred thousandfold—descended.
Two blades. One wielded by the goddess. One by the heavens themselves.
They slashed downward in perfect unison.
BOOOOM—!!!
A cataclysmic wave of purple lightning erupted, consuming all within the arena.
In that instant, Death's entire computational framework collapsed. Its data-processing capabilities—once vast, precise, godlike—now seemed laughably insignificant against a power that defied dimension, law, and logic.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Its paper body fragmented wildly in a final, desperate attempt at resistance—but to no avail.
BOOM!
For a single, timeless moment, all of existence vanished. Only the descending blade of violet annihilation remained.
Where that lightning passed, space itself shattered and rewrote its own rules. Time stuttered, looped, and unraveled.
This was no mere strike.
It was a conceptual severance—a martial art so supreme it could cut through fate, causality, and even the idea of death itself.
"Conceptual-level attack detected… Cannot parse… Error… Error…"
But i
t was already too late.
The very notion of Death began to dissolve—not destroyed, but erased, as though a careless hand had wiped it from the canvas of reality.
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