The world wasn't ending.
It had ended long ago.
What remained now was silence — the silence before the heart gives up, before the last breath collapses into nothing. The sky was pale and motionless, like it had been abandoned by time itself. The air was heavy, unmoving. Even the seconds seemed reluctant to pass, caught between what once was and what could never be again.
And in that silence, only two figures stood.
A father.
A son.
Cosmic: My son.
Dark's hands curled into fists, his whole body wound tight.
Dark: I'm here.
Cosmic studied him for a long moment. His eyes carried pride, grief, and inevitability all at once.
Cosmic: You've grown beyond everything I feared, and everything I wished for.
Dark: Don't say it like that. Just tell me why.
Cosmic took a step forward. No force, no power. Just the quiet step of a man trying to close the distance.
Cosmic: I wanted to shield you from this. From all of it.
Dark: Then why didn't you?
Cosmic lowered his gaze.
Cosmic: Because I couldn't turn against what I am.
Dark: What do you mean?
Cosmic: I was made by Shou. He gave me form, gave me breath, gave me purpose. And by my nature, I cannot betray the will of the one who created me.
Dark: So Shou ordered this? He wanted you to let it happen?
Cosmic: He did not order it. He wrote it. And I listened, because I was born of his voice. Not out of fear, but because it is loyalty. Because it is who I am.
Dark: And you just... obey? Even if it destroys everything?
Cosmic: Shou is not cruel. He is not our enemy. He is beyond that. He does not write out of malice. He writes because the story must move forward. And I... I follow. That is my nature. That is my oath.
Dark's voice trembled, caught between anger and pleading.
Dark: Then what am I to you? A line in his script? A role to play before the curtain falls?
Cosmic: No. You are more than that. You are the answer the story has been waiting for. I was never the solution. I was only the one to carry the curse until you were ready to face it.
Dark: And that's all I am to you? The one who finishes what you started?
Cosmic: You are my son. That has never changed. That will never change. But I cannot step outside the truth of what Shou made me.
Dark's fists shook. His voice cracked.
Dark: Then fight it anyway. For me. Please. You're my father. Do something.
Cosmic's hand rose, fingers trembling in the air as if reaching for his son's shoulder. But he stopped, pulling it back.
Cosmic: If I touch you, I may lose control before the curse does.
Dark: You're already losing yourself.
Cosmic: I know. The curse is unraveling. Soon it will no longer be me standing here. It will be the End, wearing my face.
Dark's head shook violently, as if denial could break the weight of truth.
Dark: Why does it have to be this way? Why couldn't you stop it?
Cosmic: I tried. I fought longer than you'll ever know. But I was not created to end it. I was created to hold it, to carry it until you stood where you do now. That is why Shou made me.
Dark: And you couldn't even tell me?
Cosmic: You weren't meant to carry this before your time. I wanted you to live free of it.
Dark: I was never free. Not once.
Cosmic said nothing. His silence was heavier than any words.
Dark: So this is it. You'll just let the curse devour you.
Cosmic: Do you think I want this?
Dark: I don't even know what you want anymore.
Cosmic turned his eyes away. A hollow silence stretched between them before he spoke again.
Cosmic: I am proud of you. You've carried every weight placed on you. You endured what should have broken you. You outgrew me.
Dark lifted his eyes slowly, his throat burning.
Cosmic: I thought I was the answer. But I was only the question. You were the answer Shou wrote from the very beginning.
Dark's chest tightened.
Cosmic: I wish I had said this sooner. I wish I could have said it without breaking.
Dark: Then say it now.
Cosmic: I love you.
The words fell into the air between them, unshakable, too late, yet heavier than anything else. Dark froze. His body would not move. His breath would not come. The silence trembled with everything that had gone unsaid.
Cosmic: If this is my last moment as myself, I want it to be with you. Not as a monster. Not as a curse. Just as your father.
Dark: Then stop it. Stop the curse.
Cosmic: I cannot.
Dark: Please.
Cosmic: I wish I could.
Dark took a step forward. He did not raise his fists. He only reached to hold his father.
Cosmic stepped back.
And with that retreat, it began.
His shoulders twisted. His head jerked at an unnatural angle. His voice broke and fell silent. His body unraveled, smoke tearing away from the light that once held him together. The curse claimed him.
Cosmic was gone.
And Dark stood alone at the edge of everything.
The silence was not silence anymore. It was a weight, a pulse, a presence. It pressed against his skin, crawled down his spine, filled the air with a suffocating anticipation. The figure before him twitched, shoulders jerking, head tilting, as if the body was no longer its own. The eyes that once belonged to his father had become black wells of emptiness, reflecting nothing, promising nothing.
The End had taken root inside what remained of Cosmic.
Dark's chest felt hollow. Every breath burned like glass in his lungs. For a fleeting moment he thought of stepping back, of refusing the fight. But his body did not move. The grief in his chest twisted into fire, into something violent and merciless. His fists clenched, his knuckles cracked, and the air around him quivered with his resolve.
Dark: If you are no longer him... then I will destroy you.
The creature made no reply. Its throat split with a sound that was not a voice, but a tearing, like cloth ripping apart or the sky breaking open. It twitched again, limbs jerking with unnatural spasms.
Dark lowered his stance. His muscles coiled, his veins lit with pressure. His heart thundered as if every beat was a war drum. He could feel every weight he had ever carried, every scar, every betrayal, every moment of love and loss, all converging into this instant.
Dark: Forgive me, father.
He launched forward. The ground caved beneath his step, exploding outward as if the earth itself recoiled from his speed. His body shot upward, fist leading like a blade of vengeance. The motion was not elegant. It was not graceful. It was pure brutality, a strike born from grief and wrath and love all at once.
The uppercut connected.
The sound was not one of flesh striking flesh. It was something greater, like mountains colliding, like the bones of the universe cracking apart. The figure's head snapped back violently, its body arching, jaw shattering under the force. The sky trembled as the air split into ripples, a shockwave tearing outward, rattling everything that still dared to exist.
For the briefest flicker, through the distortion of light and shadow, Dark saw his father's face again. Just a glimpse. Eyes that were not cursed. Eyes that knew him. Eyes that loved him.
And then they were gone.
The body split open as if it had been hollow all along. Smoke bled out in violent streams, light breaking apart in shards that hissed and vanished into the void. The figure unraveled piece by piece, until what stood there was no longer a man, not even a monster, but only fragments being swallowed by nothing.
Dark landed back on the ground, his body shaking. His chest heaved, his lungs clawing for breath. His fist was still raised, trembling from the force he had unleashed. The silence returned, but it was jagged now, fractured, the echo of that one strike still reverberating through it.
Where Cosmic had stood, there was only emptiness. Yet from that emptiness, a faint whisper lingered, fragile and trembling like a memory.
Cosmic: My son.
Dark's head lowered. Shadows swallowed his face. His throat clenched, and his body shivered under the weight of those words.
Dark: I told you... I would not hold back.
The words cracked apart as they left him. They were not victory. They were not strength. They were grief, raw and hollow, spilling into the endless silence that followed.
And there Dark remained, standing broken and trembling at the edge of everything, the world gone, the silence heavier than ever, and the memory of his father's last whisper lodged in his chest like a blade that would never fade.
Dark: I don't care how many times you rise. I don't care if Shou himself made you. I will tear you down until nothing remains.
The End convulsed violently. Its form split open like a carcass, smoke pouring out in writhing streams, stitching itself into monstrous limbs that bent at impossible angles. Dozens of arms sprouted and tore apart, claws birthing from the darkness like blades gnashing through flesh. Its head twisted backward, snapping with a crack that reverberated through the void.
And then it attacked.
The ground ruptured as a tide of black limbs slammed forward. Each strike carried enough force to crush mountains into dust. Dark crossed his arms to block, but the impact hurled him backward, his heels dragging trenches into the shattered ground. One tendril hooked around his ankle, yanking him into the air, before another smashed into his ribs, cracking bone. Blood spattered from his mouth as he twisted, ripping himself free midair.
Dark roared, wings bursting wide, black fire igniting around his body. He spun through the air and drove his fist down into one of the writhing limbs. The blow exploded through it, shattering it into smoke and gore. The limb melted into nothing, but the wound sprayed shards of burning light that slashed across his skin, peeling flesh from his shoulder to his wrist.
Dark grit his teeth, ignoring the blood running down his arm. He shot forward like a missile, fist cocked back, and rammed it into the End's torso. The strike sank deep, cracking open its body. Black ichor sprayed like a flood, steaming as it hit the ground, burning holes into the stone beneath.
The End shrieked — not a sound, but a vibration so violent the air itself split. Its body wrapped around Dark, jaws forming from smoke and bone. The maw closed around him, rows of jagged teeth snapping shut. Flesh tore from his arms as he held the jaws open with both hands, tendons in his neck straining, veins bulging against his skin.
Dark: You're not my father.
With a scream, he forced the maw wider. His wings surged with flame, and he ripped the jaw apart down the middle. Bone snapped, blood and smoke erupting outward in a torrent. Dark burst free, drenched in gore, his chest heaving, skin torn and slick with crimson.
The End did not falter. Its torn face split again into three more, each vomiting streams of black fire. The blasts collided with Dark midair, engulfing him in a storm of burning shadow. His flesh charred, cracking, blistering across his chest and arms. His scream cut through the void, but he did not fall.
Dark's eyes glowed white through the smoke. He cut forward, faster than the fire could consume him, his fist carving upward. The uppercut ripped through one of the End's faces, shattering it into fragments. Teeth and bone splintered outward, raining across the battlefield like knives. He grabbed one fragment mid-flight — a jagged piece of jawbone — and rammed it into the second face. The shard punched through, spraying gore across his arm.
The third face lunged, jaws gaping. Dark shoved his burned arm into its throat, fingers curling. With a guttural roar, he clenched his fist and ripped downward, tearing the jaw clean off. Blood gushed across him in rivers, soaking him to the bone.
Dark fell to one knee, panting, his flesh scorched, his body trembling from blood loss. Yet his aura surged higher, black flame blazing around him, twisting into shapes that screamed in defiance. The ground beneath him cracked and melted under the heat of his will alone.
The End convulsed, its body no longer bound by symmetry. Arms burst from its chest, legs split into claws, and dozens of mouths tore themselves open across its torso, each lined with jagged teeth dripping black ichor. Eyes, hundreds of them, blinked into existence and rolled wildly in their sockets, focusing on him with hunger.
One massive claw slammed down.
Dark hurled himself upward, the impact shattering the ground where he had knelt into dust and molten stone. He rose with a roar, his fist dragging behind him like a blade, then carved it upward into the arm. The limb split from wrist to shoulder, spraying gore and smoke in a geyser that painted the void in red. Chunks of flesh rained down around him, sizzling on contact with the ground.
Dark landed on the torn arm, sprinting up its length as blood sprayed against his skin. The End thrashed, trying to shake him free, but he dug his claws into its flesh and tore his way upward, carving a path through pulsing veins and burning tissue. His hands were slick with blood. His teeth clenched. His eyes burned.
Dark: You will not consume me.
He leapt toward its chest, wings bursting with black flame, and drove both fists forward. They sank into the End's ribcage with the sound of bones shattering under a hammer. The chest cavity collapsed inward, ribs snapping like splintered glass, tearing open to expose a furnace of burning smoke inside.
The End shrieked. Its hundreds of mouths screamed at once, the sound vibrating so violently Dark's eardrums burst, blood running down his neck. Still, he pushed forward, ripping one rib free and swinging it like a blade. With a savage strike, he decapitated one of the creature's smaller heads, its jaw flying into the darkness as blood sprayed like a waterfall.
The End retaliated. A tendril speared through Dark's thigh, tearing out the muscle in a gush of crimson. Another wrapped around his torso, crushing ribs, grinding bone until it snapped like wood. His scream was muffled as another limb forced itself into his mouth, choking him, tearing his throat raw.
Dark's eyes widened. His aura flared so violently it incinerated the tendril from the inside out, bursting it into fire and smoke. He gagged, coughed blood, and roared, grabbing another limb with both hands and ripping it apart at the joints. Flesh tore. Tendons snapped like cables under strain.
Dark: I am not yours to devour!
His wings erupted, spearing through the End's chest like blades. He twisted, tearing its body open in a spiral of gore. Black ichor drenched him, covering him head to toe until he looked like a figure born of blood and fire alone.
The End's upper body split in half, its faces screaming as they peeled away from one another. Yet from the wound, more limbs grew, more mouths, more eyes, endless. It was regeneration without limit, hunger without end.
Dark stood amid the storm of gore, chest heaving, bones fractured, flesh shredded. Yet his aura only grew brighter, black fire consuming him, reshaping him into a silhouette of rage and defiance. The air trembled around him as if reality itself feared what he was becoming.
The End convulsed, its torn body regenerating in violent spasms. From its many mouths came a sound that was not a scream, not a roar, but words — words dragged through layers of distortion, every syllable breaking apart and reforming, as if multiple voices spoke at once.
The End: Child... why do you fight?
Dark froze for half a breath. The voice wasn't Cosmic's, but fragments of his father clung to it, twisted, drowned beneath the curse.
The End: He chose this. He carried the curse so you would inherit it. Why resist what was always meant to be?
Dark's teeth ground together, blood dripping from his lips as he spat into the void.
Dark: That wasn't his choice. That was Shou's design. And I will break it.
The End's heads twisted toward him, eyes rolling in madness.
The End: Break the story? Change what was written? Foolish boy. Stories do not bend. They devour. And you... are already consumed.
A dozen limbs lashed forward, snapping like whips. Dark crossed his arms, blocking two, while the others ripped into his back and sides, gouging through skin and muscle. Blood sprayed across the ground. One claw hooked into his shoulder and tore it open, splitting flesh until bone showed.
Dark roared, grabbing the claw with his free hand and crushing it until it exploded into smoke and gore. His aura flared, ripping the other limbs away from his body in bursts of black fire. His skin was scorched, his wounds deep, but his eyes blazed hotter than ever.
Dark: You are wrong. A story can be broken. Destiny can be shattered. My father thought he was only the question. But I am the answer.
The End's mouths curled into grotesque mockeries of a smile.
The End: Then show me. Show me how you rewrite what was carved before you were born. Show me how you kill the End itself.
Its chest tore open, revealing a cavity of gnashing teeth and eyes, a pit of endless hunger. From it poured a tidal wave of limbs and claws, a storm of flesh and bone.
Dark lowered his stance, black flame whipping around him like a cyclone. His body trembled from pain, blood dripping freely, but his voice was steady, cold, absolute.
Dark: You will not outlast me.
The End twisted in response, its body convulsing until the shape of a ribcage split open across its torso. From within, a swarm of jagged arms burst forth, each claw dripping with black ichor that hissed when it struck the ground. Its mouths opened in unison, a chorus of distorted echoes spilling out.
The End: You are already finished. You fight on broken bones, torn flesh, hollow blood. You are less than ash. Why persist?
Dark spat blood onto the shattered ground, his eyes blazing.
Dark: Because ash can still burn.
He launched forward. The void shuddered under the force of his step, the cyclone of black fire spiraling tighter around his body. His fist drove upward, smashing through the first arm that lunged toward him. It exploded in a spray of gore, chunks of bone raining down. Another arm snapped forward, claws digging into his ribs, tearing skin from muscle. Dark roared through the pain, ripping the limb free and hammering it into the creature's chest like a weapon. The impact tore a crater into its torso, ichor flooding outward.
The End shrieked, its distorted voice echoing like glass breaking.
The End: You destroy, but you cannot create. You kill, but you cannot heal. You will never bring peace. You are war given flesh.
Dark's breath came ragged, but his voice was sharp.
Dark: Then I'll be war until peace exists.
He tore his hand through the crater he'd opened, ripping deeper. His fingers sank into the End's chest, pulling out a bundle of twisted veins and black sinew. The creature convulsed violently, its limbs thrashing, snapping against the ground with thunderous force.
The End retaliated, its chest cavity snapping shut on Dark's arm. Teeth tore into his flesh, grinding into muscle and bone. Blood poured down in streams, sizzling on the ground. Dark screamed, but instead of pulling back, he pushed forward, shoving his other arm into the maw and forcing it wider.
Dark: You will not close on me.
With a brutal heave, he ripped his arms outward. The maw split in half, tearing the End's chest open from sternum to stomach. Black blood geysered into the air, raining across the void in sheets.
The End screeched, its hundreds of eyes rolling in chaos.
The End: Then drown in what you sought to destroy!
A tidal wave of ichor poured out of its split body, engulfing Dark, flooding over him with crushing force. It burned as it touched him, sizzling through his skin, peeling away flesh in strips. His body vanished beneath the tide, swallowed whole.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness and blood.
Then the ichor exploded.
Dark erupted from within, his wings tearing open the flood in a violent burst. His entire body was shredded, his skin half-flayed, but his aura burned brighter than ever, a cyclone of black fire towering upward. His eyes glowed white, cutting through the gore.
The End convulsed. Its twisted, asymmetrical form of mouths and limbs collapsed inward, folding into itself as though shedding its own skin. The countless arms melted away in streams of smoke and ichor. The mass of writhing jaws and fractured heads caved inward, splitting apart in streaks of light.
For a moment, there was only silence — then the body snapped outward in a violent shockwave.
A new form stepped from the collapsing ruin.
It was taller now, towering over Dark, its frame leaner, sharper, but unnervingly human in outline. Its muscles rippled like obsidian carved from the cosmos, streaked with veins of glowing white that pulsed like molten rivers under its skin. Its head tilted forward, the jawline jagged, carved too sharp, as if sculpted by cruelty itself. No face marked it, only two hollow pits where eyes should have been — pits that bled silver light, stretching across the void like blades.
Its aura surged outward in violent pulses, waves of shimmering darkness and radiant fire colliding, bending the air until the void itself screamed. The ground cracked open beneath its feet, molten veins of light bleeding upward as if the battlefield could not contain it.
Claws unfurled from its hands, long and sleek, dripping with black ichor that burned holes in the air. Every movement radiated predatory grace, controlled yet savage, as though the End had shed its chaos and revealed the pure beast within — hunger perfected, inevitability given a body.
The End raised its head, silver light burning in the hollows of its eyes, and spoke in a voice no longer distorted but sharp, venomous, and resonant.
The End: Behold me, child. No longer fragments, no longer chaos. This is my true form. Hunger without limit. Death without end.
It stepped forward, the pressure of its aura alone forcing cracks into the ground around Dark's feet. The air itself seemed to resist breathing, heavy with suffocating gravity.
The End: You bleed, you burn, you scream... yet you persist. I will show you the futility of your vow. Peace dies here. Hope dies here. You will be broken, and your dream will rot with you.
Dark raised his head. His body was torn, his blood dripping into rivers at his feet, but his stance did not waver. The cyclone of black fire roared higher, wings stretching wider, his shadow twisting into shapes that clawed at the void. His voice came steady, cold, unshaken.
Dark: Then come and try.
The End crouched, muscles coiling tight, claws scraping sparks into the ground. The void around it distorted, bending inward as if reality itself was bracing for the impact.
And in the next heartbeat, it lunged.
The End tore across the void, claws raking reality itself into ribbons as it surged forward. Each step shattered the ground into molten dust, each movement dragging streaks of silver fire across the air. It was faster than thought, faster than sound, a blur of inevitability made flesh.
Dark met it head-on.
The cyclone of black fire around him erupted as he launched forward, wings snapping wide, body screaming against the agony of torn flesh and broken bone. His fist collided with the creature's claw in a blast that split the battlefield apart. The shockwave tore across the void like a collapsing star, ripping stone into dust and scattering it into the abyss.
Blood sprayed. Flesh shredded. Claw tore into skin. Fist shattered bone.
Dark roared, hammering his blows into its torso, each strike ripping chunks of ichor from its body. The End retaliated, its claws piercing through his side, dragging him into the air before slamming him down with enough force to crater the ground into a pit of fire. Bones snapped in his chest, ribs driven inward like daggers.
Still, Dark rose.
He staggered, his legs trembling, his body barely holding together — but his eyes glowed brighter than the hollow pits of silver staring down at him.
The End lunged again, faster, crueler. Its claws carved open his shoulder, nearly severing his arm. Its knee drove into his stomach, vomiting blood from his mouth. Its hand gripped his face, grinding him into the ground, dragging him across shattered stone until sparks screamed against his skull.
Dark's scream ripped free, a sound that shook the void, not of pain, but of refusal. His aura erupted again, fire spilling out like wings of a god reborn in darkness.
Dark: I am not yours to break!
He slammed his head forward, cracking the End's faceless skull, then tore himself free with blood streaming down his face. His fists struck wild, brutal, savage. Each hit shattered more of its flesh, sending ichor spraying in waves across the battlefield. But no matter how much he destroyed, the creature regenerated, its body knitting itself together faster than his rage could carve it apart.
The End: You cannot kill what was written to endure.
It smashed its claws into his chest, ripping deep furrows across his ribs. Black smoke spilled into the wounds, burning from the inside out. Dark staggered, his breath choking, his strength faltering.
For a moment, it looked as though the End would win.
And then — it happened.
The air split.
From within Dark's grasp, something answered. His blood, his soul, his will — all converged into a single point. The void shuddered as a blade emerged, blacker than shadow, sharper than existence itself. Kyuketsu.
The weapon of his soul. The echo of every battle he had endured, every loss, every vow.
It appeared in his hands in silence, not summoned, but born — as though it had been waiting for this exact moment, this last instant where nothing else remained.
The End froze. For the first time, it hesitated.
Dark's fingers tightened on the hilt. His wings stretched wide, his aura roaring louder than the void itself. His voice broke through the silence, steady and final.
Dark: This is the end of the End.
He swung.
Kyuketsu carved upward in a slash that split the world. The blade screamed as it tore through flesh, bone, and void alike, cutting not just the creature, but the concept of its existence. The End shrieked, its body splitting from crown to core. Ichor exploded outward in torrents, rivers of blood flooding the battlefield. Its claws flailed, shredding itself in panic as Kyuketsu's strike burned through it like divine judgment.
Dark did not stop.
He tore forward, wings igniting, blade rising again and again, each strike faster, heavier, more merciless. He carved the End into pieces, obliterating its limbs, its chest, its heads, every part of it reduced to chunks of gore that dissolved in black fire. Its screams reverberated across the void, shaking with the sound of inevitability unraveling.
The End: Impossible.....
Smiling slightly to his father, well someone, as a tear drops from his eyes.
Dark: Yes... Very much possible.
He drove Kyuketsu straight through its chest, piercing the hollow core of its being. The blade erupted in black flame, exploding outward in a cyclone that consumed everything. The End convulsed, its body splitting apart in rivers of gore, dissolving into nothingness as the fire devoured it piece by piece.
It screamed one last time, a sound of rage, of denial, and then it was gone.
Obliterated.
The void fell silent.
Dark stood in the aftermath, drenched in blood, his body torn, his blade dripping ichor. Kyuketsu pulsed once in his hand before fading into smoke, returning to his soul. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, but his eyes, his eyes still burned with defiance.
Dark's knees hit the ground.
He stayed there, braced on one hand, the other pressed to his chest as if holding his heartbeat in place. The battlefield still smoked, a broken plain of glassed stone and hanging ash. Yet threads of light had begun to creep across the scars, stitching cracks together, cooling magma into dark mirror. Far off, dead air tried to remember wind.
Dark's mouth pulled into a tired smile. Blood salted his lips. Tears slid hot and easy, cutting clean paths through the grime.
Dark: It's over.
He let himself lean back on his heels, half sitting, half kneeling, resting in the ruin. The silence here was not the old kind. Not a weight. Not a cage. It breathed. It felt like the first quiet after a storm that had tried to erase the sky.
He blinked once.
The horizon blurred.
He blinked again.
Someone stood in front of him.
Not smoke. Not shadow. A shape forming slowly from the light, as if drawn by the memory of his name. A man's outline, tall, familiar. Hair moving with a wind that had not arrived yet. A face coalescing from soft glow.
It was his father.
Cosmic: My son.
Cosmic's body was there and not there, edges washed with transparency, movements softened by the thin veil of whatever world had let him step across. The curse was gone. No gnashing. No flicker of the End. Only the man Dark knew, held together by a love that refused to die.
Dark's breath broke. He tried to stand, but his legs trembled and held him where he was. He smiled wider instead, shoulders shaking.
Dark: I knew you would try to find a way.
Cosmic knelt, mirroring him, until they were eye to eye. If there had been weight to him, Dark would have felt a hand on his shoulder. Instead, there was the sensation of warmth remembered, like sunlight from a morning long ago.
Cosmic: You kept your word.
Dark laughed softly, the sound cracking into a sob.
Dark: I told you I would not hold back.
They looked at each other in the near silence. Around them, the world continued its slow repair. Splintered towers knitted into heaps that might become homes someday. Rivers of light cooled into dark stone. A sky that had forgotten color considered the idea of blue.
Cosmic's gaze carried pride and sorrow together, as always.
Cosmic: I do not have long.
Dark's smile trembled.
Dark: I know.
Cosmic glanced at the ground, then at the shadow Dark cast across the cooling glass. It was deep, alive in its edges, populated by the shapes that had fought beside him before. Faint silhouettes stirred within it, familiar presences pushing at the border between worlds.
Cosmic: Your shadow still remembers its doors.
Dark followed his eyes. The silhouettes moved closer, ripples in the dark. Names surfaced without effort.
Dark: Igor. Biru. The others.
Cosmic: Loyal to you because you were loyal to them.
He paused, as if choosing words from a place where speech did not exist.
Cosmic: I was made by Shou to carry a curse. That purpose is finished. But you are not finished. If you wish it, I can live on with you. Not as a god. Not as the End. As one more blade in your night. A watcher. A warning. A voice when your own grows quiet.
Dark looked up quickly, tears bright in his eyes.
Dark: Are you asking me to bind you?
Cosmic smiled. It was small, tired, real.
Cosmic: I am asking to stay. Not to command you. To serve beside you. If you let me.
Dark's throat tightened. His gaze searched Cosmic's face for any shadow of compulsion, any hint of the old weight. There was none. Only choice. Only love.
Dark: Father... if you join my shadow, will you be free?
Cosmic: As free as I have ever been. Perhaps more. Your will is not a cage. It is a road.
Dark closed his eyes. He breathed in the thin new wind. When he opened them, resolve shone through the grief.
Dark: Then stay. Walk with me. Watch with me. Correct me when I am blind. Remind me when I forget why I fight.
Cosmic's outline brightened, as if a sun rose behind him.
Cosmic: Then hear me clearly. The vow you spoke is larger than your hands. Shou will widen the world until the edges blur. He will set powers in your path that make today feel small. He is not cruel. He is not kind. He is constant. And he will watch what you do with what you asked for.
Dark: I will keep asking. Even when it hurts.
Cosmic: Good. Ask for a world where pain is not a teacher.
Dark reached out, uncertain. His fingers touched light. It felt like cold water and summer heat at once. It felt like safety.
Cosmic: May I?
Dark nodded.
The shadow at Dark's feet deepened, pooling like ink. Shapes gathered at its rim, Igor's steady presence, Biru's restless edge, others whispering old oaths. The glass-dark spread in a calm circle. Cosmic placed his palm against Dark's chest, and his form loosened like mist letting go of a shape.
Light flowed.
It poured through Dark's ribs and into the shadow beneath him, where it settled with a soft, tidal pull. The silhouettes stepped back to make room. In that dark, a new figure stepped forward and took his place among them. Tall. Quiet. Familiar. The shadow-edges of him were lined with a faint, starlit glow.
Cosmic's voice came from both places at once. Here in front of Dark, fading. There within the shadow, arriving.
Cosmic: I am with you.
Dark bowed his head. Tears dropped to the glass and cooled into tiny, perfect beads. He laughed again, softer, freer.
Dark: Then see what I build.
Cosmic's fading form reached for him one last time. This time the touch landed. A light palm on the crown of Dark's head. The blessing a father gives when the road is long.
Cosmic: Be gentle when you can. Be unyielding when you must. Rest without guilt. Rise without regret.
Dark: Stay loud in the quiet places. Do not let me forget the faces.
Cosmic: I will remind you.
His outline thinned to thread. The wind lifted the last of him, and he passed completely into Dark's shadow, where the new figure nodded once to Igor, once to Biru, and turned outward, eyes on the horizon that was not a horizon anymore.
Dark remained on his knees for a while. He listened to his breath. He felt the steady weight of a hand that was gone and still present. The silence around him did not crush. It waited.
Dark looked up at the broken world that had started to stitch itself together. The wasteland feel would linger. That was all right. Things that heal slowly remember how.
Dark: Father.
Cosmic: I hear you.
Dark: Walk with me.
Cosmic: Always.
Dark planted one foot, then the other. He stood with care, each motion deliberate, as if he were setting a ritual for the years to come. The wind carried the ash away in quiet spirals. Far off, a ruined skyline softened. Somewhere, water found the courage to run.
Dark faced the distance.
Dark: Igor. Biru. All of you.
Shapes leaned toward him at the edge of the shadow, answering in the way shadows do.
Dark: We have work.
He took a step. The glass did not crack. It held. Another step. The sky tested a color that might one day be called blue.
Behind him, the place where the End had died cooled into black stone that reflected a pale, clean light. In front of him, the road widened in ways he could not yet see.
Cosmic: One more thing.
Dark smiled.
Dark: Say it.
Cosmic: I love you.
Dark: I.. love you too.... Father...
Scene switches to Shou sitting next to someone, Mr Author, Mr Author is unseen. Appearance completely shadowed. Darkened.
Shou points at the middle of a page.
Shou: Let us expand this story even more, connect more verses, stories, novels, comics and lives.
Shou then looks at you. Yes you reading. Feel his presence.
Mr Author speaks but his voice is distorted. Glitchy. Static?
Mr Author: Create A New $@!?$ And Make D&$k Su$&!r So M!?h. Make Him Cr?!b@e.
Shou: Will do Mr Writer.
Shou looks at you again. Yes you reader no one else.
Shou: To Be Continued.
End Of Arc 6 Chapter 25.
The scene fades to nothingness. But then Shou's hand pulls you back.
Shou: Oh one more, this is the final chapter of Dark's Pre Crisis, I will be taking a look at Rei and his World Of VR!!
Shou smiles.
Shou: This story will have a continuation, the name of it will be Dark's Aftermath. Goodbye.
End Of Arc 6 Chapter 25.
Thank you for reading this story, the journey was... very interesting and challenging in many ways. Thank you truly.