The scene opens outside Nen's cathedral. The once-majestic structure, now cracked and broken, looms against a pale, eerie sky. Inside the cathedral, the atmosphere is suffocating. Shadows dance across the walls, though no light or flame moves them. Sukojo sits lazily on Nen's shattered throne, his expression unreadable but his smirk sharp, a predator reveling in his domain.
Below him, Nen kneels, his head bowed low, trembling as if the weight of the air itself crushed his back.
Sukojo: (calm, almost amused) Oh, Nen. Could you repeat that for me? I believe I missed... whatever pathetic excuse you just muttered.
Nen hesitates. His voice is uneven, but there's a careful formality in his words, an ancient cadence betraying his fear.
Nen: (low, shaking) M-My lord, not long ago, when Cosmic... reintroduced the System, the Merciful You... and Dark... came here. I fought the boy to the death. And he won. I... I perished.
Sukojo raises an eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand. He looks almost bored.
Sukojo: (mocking) And yet, here you are. Talking.
Nen: (stammering) Y-yes. But you... y-you brought me back from the abyss...
Sukojo: (sharply, interrupting) Stop talking.
Nen freezes.
Sukojo: (annoyed) God, you make no sense. Just—no. Forget it. Don't speak. (waves a dismissive hand) Actually, no. Speak. Just answer this: who brought you back?
Nen raises his head slightly, his pale eyes darting toward Sukojo but never meeting his gaze.
Nen: (carefully) You, my—
Sukojo: (interrupting) Stop right there.
He leans forward, his expression sharp, the playful edge to his tone turning dangerously thin.
Sukojo: (low, commanding) Don't call me "lord." Such... weak words. Call me something else. Something... fitting. Think hard.
Before Nen can answer, the cathedral's air shifts. The oppressive silence deepens as something pierces through existence itself. Reality bends, groaning under the arrival of a presence so raw, so overwhelming, that even Sukojo tenses.
Beside him, without sound or warning, Copi appears.
Sukojo freezes. His usual confidence falters for the briefest moment as his eyes dart toward Copi. A faint tremble runs through his fingers before he quickly hides it, leaning back into the throne.
Copi: (mocking, slow) Ooooh, Sukojo. (smirks) How low you've fallen.
His voice carries weight, sharp yet nonchalant, every word sinking into the air like a jagged knife. He steps forward, his movements deliberate, each step crushing the cracked marble beneath him.
Copi: (sneering) Preying on the weak? Pathetic. Scavenging for scraps of power... hoping—praying—to catch up to me.
Sukojo doesn't reply. His claws tap idly against the armrest, his smirk thin and forced.
And then, just as abruptly, the air shifts again. Another presence cuts through the tension. This time, it's clean, precise, like the turning of a clock. The room lightens, if only slightly, as Sojo steps into view.
The young figure—white hair like fresh snowfall, eyes like mirrors of eternity—steps calmly through the shadows. He appears no older than fourteen, but his gaze betrays a wisdom that stretches far beyond time itself.
Sojo: (casually) Good morning, Copi. Sukojo. And, uh... Nen.
Nen nods, though he doesn't dare move from his kneeling position. Copi's ember-like eyes narrow, a flicker of disdain crossing his face.
Copi: (mocking) Good morning, you pathetic clockwork brat.
Sojo doesn't flinch. He tilts his head slightly, his tone remaining light, though a faint edge creeps in.
Sojo: (calmly) Are you looking for a fight, Copi? Or are you just here to run your mouth?
Copi chuckles, the sound low and grating. He takes a slow step toward Sojo, his aura pressing down on the room like a storm ready to break.
Copi: (smirking) A fight? No, no. Not today. But do you remember what happened last time? When I sent you... crawling back to that prick of a writer? Hmm?
Sojo's expression darkens, his voice dropping to a sharp, commanding tone.
Sojo: (coldly) Silence. You dare speak of the Writer so lightly?
Copi's grin widens, his jagged teeth glinting faintly in the dim light.
Copi: (mocking) Oh, you have no idea, do you? The Writer is kind. Generous, even. Do you know what he told me?
Sojo: (narrowing his eyes) What do you mean?
Copi: (slowly, savoring the words) He said... I could do whatever I wanted to with Sukojo. (pauses, smirking) Meaning... this twat is mine.
Sukojo's claws dig into the throne, his smirk finally vanishing. He starts to rise, but Sojo's voice cuts through the tension.
Sojo: (calmly, sharp) Enough.
He steps forward, his young form radiating an unnatural stillness, the weight of time itself folding around him.
Sojo: (coldly) Copi. You forget yourself. Yes, you were once Shou's perfect creation. But this—this arrogance—is not how you were meant to act.
Copi straightens fully now, his grin fading as he regards Sojo with a raised brow.
Copi: (mocking) Act? Oho... act, you say?
He takes another step forward, his form towering over the young Sojo. His voice drops to a cold, dangerous whisper.
Copi: (low) Huh? What are you trying to say, little Timekeeper?
Sojo's expression remains calm, but his eyes narrow slightly.
Sojo: (firmly) Leave. Now.
The room falls silent. For a moment, it seems as though Copi might actually listen. But then, his smirk returns, sharper than before.
Copi: (mocking, softly) What if I didn't?
Sojo's aura flares faintly, the air around him rippling like disturbed water. His voice remains steady, but the threat in it is unmistakable.
Sojo: (calmly) Then I will have to remove you. By force.
The tension in the room thickened, the air growing heavy as Sojo's words lingered. Copi's smirk widened, his ember-like eyes flickering with something between amusement and defiance.
Copi: (mocking) By force? You?
He chuckled softly, the sound low and grating, as he tilted his head slightly.
Copi: (mocking, smug) Tell me, Sojo, what force could you possibly wield against me that I haven't already endured a thousand times over?
Sojo's white eyes remained unblinking, his expression unchanging. He didn't respond immediately, allowing the silence to grow heavier, more suffocating. Then, with deliberate precision, he stepped forward, his childlike frame at odds with the weight of his presence.
Sojo: (coldly) Do not mistake my patience for weakness, Copi.
The subtle ripple of his aura intensified, the faint distortion around him growing sharper, more defined. Time itself seemed to warp in his vicinity, the edges of the room blurring and shifting like a fractured lens.
Copi's smirk faltered for the briefest moment, but he quickly recovered, straightening his posture.
Copi: (mocking) Ah, there it is. The great Sojo, master of time, ready to play the hero once again. Tell me, will you bore me to death with another lecture, or—
Before he could finish, Sojo raised a hand, his fingers barely moving. Instantly, the room fell into an eerie stillness.
Time stopped.
Copi's smirk froze on his face, his body locked in place as though caught in an invisible vice. The faint ember-like glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, flickering with a spark of irritation.
Sojo: (quietly, dangerously) I gave you a chance to leave, Copi. You chose to ignore it.
With a flick of his wrist, the temporal stasis broke. Copi staggered slightly, his smirk returning, though his ember eyes burned with a sharper intensity.
Copi: (grinning) Oh, Sojo... that was cute. But do you really think I'd let you stop me so easily?
He took a step forward, his presence rippling outward like a shockwave, distorting the air around him.
Copi: (coldly) If you want me gone, you'll have to do better than that.
Sojo's gaze narrowed, his aura flaring brighter, the distortion around him spreading further.
Before either could act, Sukojo's voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding.
Sukojo: Enough.
Sukojo rose slowly from Nen's broken throne, his expression shifting from detached amusement to something far more sinister. The room's oppressive atmosphere seemed to twist around him, drawn to the change in his demeanor. His lips curved into a devious smile, sharp and unnatural, his crimson eyes gleaming with a malevolence that froze the air.
Sukojo: (calmly) You two are exhausting. Always so quick to flex your little powers. What a waste of potential.
He leapt down from the throne, his movement smooth and precise, the sound of his landing reverberating through the cathedral like the echo of a bell. Slowly, he approached Copi, his steps deliberate, his aura radiating something far darker than before. The trembling Nen dared not even lift his gaze from the floor, his fear tangible.
As Sukojo walked, the energy around him shifted—no longer chaotic, but impossibly controlled, refined into a force that seemed to bend the very fabric of existence to his will. His body seemed to hum with power, his presence consuming all attention in the room.
Sojo: (warning) Sukojo, don't—
Sukojo: (interrupting, casually) Quiet, Sojo. Stay out of this.
Sojo's expression darkened, but he didn't move. He knew what was coming.
Sukojo stood in front of Copi, his devious smile widening as the oppressive silence wrapped itself around the cathedral. His crimson eyes gleamed, locking onto Copi's own ember-like gaze. The tension in the air was unbearable, the room itself seeming to bow under the weight of the confrontation.
Sukojo tilted his head slightly, his voice low and laced with amusement.
Sukojo: (mockingly) You look so confident, standing there. But confidence... it's a fragile thing, isn't it?
Without waiting for a reply, Sukojo raised his hand. Slowly, casually, as though he had all the time in the world, he rested his fingers lightly on Copi's chest. His touch was featherlight, almost dismissive. The smirk on Copi's face didn't waver—yet—but the faint flicker in his ember eyes betrayed something else. A hint of doubt.
The camera zoomed in sharply, focusing on Sukojo's face, his grin widening as he spoke again, his voice a soft murmur.
Sukojo: Let me show you something fun.
Time seemed to slow as Sukojo's fingers curled inward, forming a loose fist against Copi's chest. The movement was impossibly precise, deliberate, the sheer control in his motion a testament to his mastery. The camera panned lower, capturing the exact point of impact where Sukojo's knuckles pressed against Copi's form.
And then, the punch.
It wasn't an explosive movement. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic shift in stance. Just a simple, casual one-inch punch—so casual, it almost seemed lazy.
But the effect was anything but.
The instant Sukojo's fist connected, the air distorted violently, folding in on itself as though reality were recoiling from the strike. A soundless ripple tore through the room, bending light and space as it expanded outward. The cathedral walls cracked instantly, deep fractures spreading like veins across the stone. The camera tightened on Copi's face as his smirk melted away, replaced by wide-eyed shock.
And then—he was gone.
Not sent flying. Not hurled into the distance. He simply disappeared, as if the sheer force of the strike had erased him from existence entirely.
The camera shifted abruptly, snapping to an interdimensional view. It raced across countless multiverses, tearing through layers of reality at impossible speeds. The colors of existence blurred together, streaks of light and shadow intertwining like a cosmic tapestry.
Then it stopped.
Copi appeared in the middle of a desolate, broken multiverse, a place where the very fabric of reality was frayed and crumbling. His body stood at an awkward angle, his back hunched, his hand clutching his chest where the punch had landed. His ember eyes were dim, flickering faintly as though struggling to stay alight.
The camera zoomed in close, capturing every detail of his expression—his mouth slightly open, his teeth clenched, his face twisted in disbelief and pain. A faint, spiraling scar glowed faintly on his chest, the mark of Sukojo's punch refusing to fade.
Copi: (softly, to himself) What... in all the realms was that?
His voice wavered, unsteady, the words barely audible. He tried to straighten, his movements slow and deliberate, but his legs shook beneath him. The camera pulled back slightly, showing the desolation around him, a stark reflection of the damage done to his own confidence.
For the first time, Copi—the being of perfection, adaptation, and boundless power—looked shaken. Truly shaken.
Copi: (muttering) Sukojo...
His gaze dropped to the faint scar on his chest, his ember eyes narrowing as he exhaled shakily.
Copi: (snarling) You're going to regret that.
The camera snapped back to the cathedral, where the air was still vibrating faintly from the aftermath of the punch. Sukojo lowered his hand slowly, flexing his fingers casually as though shaking off dust. His smirk returned, wider than before, as he turned to face Sojo.
Sukojo: (mockingly) See? That wasn't so bad.
Sojo didn't respond immediately. His white eyes remained locked on Sukojo, his expression a mixture of caution and frustration. The cracks in the walls, the faint hum of distorted air—it all spoke volumes about the power Sukojo had just unleashed.
Sojo: (firmly) Do you have any idea what you've just done?
Sukojo shrugged, his tone light, almost playful.
Sukojo: Oh, relax, Sojo. I didn't kill him. Just... relocated him. Think of it as a timeout.
Sojo stepped forward, his aura rippling faintly as the tension in the room thickened.
Sojo: (coldly) You're tempting forces far beyond even your comprehension, Sukojo. If you keep pushing like this—
Sukojo held up a hand, cutting him off.
Sukojo: Spare me the lecture, will you? If he's upset, he can come back and try again. I'm not going anywhere.
Sojo's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned slightly, his gaze shifting to the faint cracks in the walls.
Sojo: (quietly) One day, your games will catch up to you, Sukojo. And when they do, even your so-called Devious Mode won't save you.
Sukojo's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes glinted with something darker—something deeper.
Sukojo: (softly) We'll see about that.
The tension in the cathedral didn't lessen. If anything, it thickened, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on the fractured throne room.
Sukojo took a casual step forward, his crimson eyes locking onto Sojo. The smirk on his face remained, but the flicker of something unplaceable—dangerous—lingered behind his gaze.
Sukojo: (mockingly) "One day," you say? Sojo, you're supposed to be the master of time, aren't you? Yet here you are, speaking in riddles about some uncertain future.
Sojo's white eyes narrowed, the faint hum of his aura pulsating rhythmically like the beating of an ancient clock. His voice was calm, deliberate, but the sharpness in it could cut through steel.
Sojo: (evenly) Because even I cannot predict the chaos you invite with every reckless move.
Sukojo chuckled softly, his voice carrying an edge that bordered on disdain.
Sukojo: (mockingly) Oh, Sojo, don't pretend to play the wise prophet with me. If you're so worried about the chaos, why don't you stop me now? Surely you've calculated the odds... or is that perfect control of yours not so perfect after all?
Sojo didn't move, but his presence grew heavier, the air around him rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond.
Sojo: (firmly) I don't need calculations to know that even chaos has its limits. You think your adaptability is infinite, Sukojo? That you can simply adjust yourself to match anyone, anything? You're tempting forces that will crush you before you can evolve.
Sukojo stopped a few steps away from Sojo, tilting his head slightly, his smirk growing wider.
Sukojo: (softly, deviously) Crush me? Oh, Sojo... That's the fun part, isn't it? Let them try. Let them break their hands, their minds, their very existence trying to catch up to me.
Before Sojo could respond, a faint hum filled the air—low, resonant, vibrating through the very structure of the cathedral.
The camera shifted sharply to the center of the room. A single point in space shimmered unnaturally, twisting and bending as though the fabric of reality itself was rebelling.
And then, he returned.
Copi.
He materialized with no grand spectacle, no sound beyond the faint hum that faded as quickly as it had begun. He stood in the center of the room, his posture eerily still, his ember eyes burning brighter than ever.
The faint remnants of Sukojo's one-inch punch lingered on his chest, the spiral of distorted energy still visible. But it wasn't the mark that drew attention—it was the way Copi stood, his body tilted slightly forward, his head lowered just enough to obscure his expression.
The camera zoomed in sharply.
Copi's fingers twitched, his hands flexing slowly as though testing their grip. His aura was silent, but the air around him was heavy, dense, suffocating.
And then, he looked up.
Copi: (low, controlled) That... was interesting.
Sukojo's smirk didn't falter, but the faintest flicker of something passed through his crimson eyes. He took a slow step forward, his movements casual, almost lazy, as though the confrontation was nothing more than a game.
Sukojo: (softly) Welcome back. Did you enjoy your little trip?
Copi didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, his ember eyes narrowing as they locked onto Sukojo. His voice, when it came, was low and deliberate, each word cutting through the silence like a blade.
Copi: You hit harder than I expected. I'll give you that.
He straightened fully now, his presence growing with each passing moment. The air around him shimmered faintly, distorting like heatwaves as his aura began to reawaken.
Copi: (coldly) But don't mistake that for a victory, Sukojo. You've only bought yourself a moment.
Sukojo chuckled, his voice light, but the sharpness in it was unmistakable.
Sukojo: (mockingly) A moment's all I need. That's the difference between us, Copi. While you're busy recovering, recalibrating, adjusting to the damage... I've already moved on.
He raised a hand casually, brushing a faint speck of dust from his kimono.
Sukojo: (softly) Adaptability, remember? It's what makes me... well, me.
Copi's ember eyes flared brighter, his smirk returning, but this time it carried no humor—only a cold, simmering rage.
Copi: (quietly) You think you're untouchable. That no matter what I do, you'll just... keep up. But you forget something, Sukojo.
Sukojo's smirk widened, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.
Sukojo: (mockingly) Oh? And what's that?
Copi took a slow step forward, his aura flaring briefly, the distortion around him intensifying.
Copi: (softly) I don't just adapt. I perfect.
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The camera lingered on Sukojo's expression, capturing the faintest flicker of calculation in his crimson eyes before his smirk returned.
Before either of them could move, Sojo stepped between them, his presence silencing the room instantly. His white eyes glowed faintly, the ripple of his aura steady, unyielding.
Sojo: (sharply) Enough. Both of you.
His voice carried the weight of authority, a reminder of the infinite control he wielded. He turned to Sukojo first, his tone firm.
Sojo: (coldly) You've done enough for one day, Sukojo. Stop pushing your luck.
Sukojo chuckled softly, raising his hands in mock surrender.
Sukojo: (lightly) Fine, fine. I'll play nice. For now.
Sojo's gaze shifted to Copi, his tone unchanging.
Sojo: (firmly) And you. If you think retaliation will prove anything, you're mistaken. This ends here.
Copi's ember eyes narrowed, his smirk fading slightly. He said nothing, but the tension in the air didn't dissipate.
Sojo stepped forward, his aura flaring faintly as he addressed them both.
Sojo: (calmly) You both believe yourselves untouchable. But let me remind you of something—power without purpose is meaningless. Keep testing each other, and you'll find yourselves consumed by the very forces you wield.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on both Sukojo and Copi.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
And then, Sukojo laughed.
Sukojo: (softly, deviously) Oh, Sojo... always the mediator. Fine. Let's call it a draw for now.
Copi's ember eyes burned brighter, but he remained silent, his smirk returning faintly.
Copi: (softly) For now.
The camera panned out slowly, capturing the three figures standing amidst the fractured cathedral, their auras still lingering in the air. The tension didn't dissipate—it simply waited, coiled and ready for the next move.
To be continued...
End Of Arc 4 Chapter 19.