Between Stars That Were Born and Worlds That Fell

Years have passed since the event known as "The Greatest and Most Devastating Cataclysm of the Cosmos." On that day, infinity itself bowed before incarnate ruin. Nazgaroth, the entity representing primordial chaos—the first angel of creation—awakened. Freed from his seal after countless ages of confinement.

And who was responsible for this? The most ambitious of the Four Horsemen of the End—the one determined to seize all the power necessary to once again challenge the Heavenly Father, the King of All.

Lucifer, the Horseman of Conquest, also called Samael, the Horseman of Death. The first fallen into the abyss. The first rebel after Nazgaroth, the one who dared to challenge the Father's throne.

In the event that became legend—the Apocalypse—Lucifer emerged from Hell alongside the Horsemen of Pestilence, Famine, and War, accompanied by an infernal legion. They advanced upon a world that didn't even understand them—nor knew them, determined to break the last pillars of Creation. To do so, they needed to obtain a special artifact, possessed by a single young man, who was tasked with confronting them.

The chaos was absolute. Nations were devastated to the point of fading from the world. Hearts drowned in despair. The arduous battle began so suddenly that there was barely time to react appropriately. And the question echoed through the ruins and blood: why?

In the midst of the collapse, that young man rose, supported by his allies who never allowed him to fall alone. Chosen by the designs of the High Heavens, Akashi Taiga became the bearer of the last hope—the one destined to confront the forces that threatened to awaken Nazgaroth.

The battles that followed were devastating.

Akashi and his allies defeated the Pestilence and the War in confrontations that would mark them forever—death never seemed so close. Hearts were shattered, muscles and minds seemed to almost cease. But the triumph was theirs.

Yet the climax was approaching.

On a certain sacred volcano, in the lands of the world's first extinct kingdom, Samael faced the Horseman of Famine—Voraxia, who challenged the one who brought the demise for her people, thanks for his fragile ego. At the height of the battle, Voraxia, who had finally recovered her memories, remembered her true origin, one of the lost angels of the Celestial Kingdom and what, or rather, who, had dragged her to perdition. She tried to prevent Lucifer's rise alone, fighting with determination and courage against the one who represented evil and ambition incarnate… and failed.

Voraxia––... no, Ay'ael fell.

In the end, only Akashi Taiga remained to definitively end the conflict initiated by the fallen angel. The most difficult confrontation of his life had begun.

The boy, alone, threw himself into the fray, giving his all to win, but Samael was on another level—quickly overpowering him and taking the artifact he had come to seek. The small crystal lodged in the center of Akashi's forehead, the "Crimson Crystal," was brutally ripped away, and Akashi lost a good portion of his powers. He was a mere boy in the midst of the final battle against the Apocalypse.

But Akashi never fought alone, even on the verge of the death.

When the end seemed near, a cold, dark breeze emerged before the sacred volcano, bringing with it a force that defied the heavens. Akashi Taiga was no longer alone in his fight. With the support of Hokori Kogarashi and the strongest knight of that old world, the trio confronted the fallen angel. Their bodies bled, sweated, but never succumbed to despair or surrender—that's what allowed them to defeat him. Lucifer was dead.

The combined strength of the trio saved the world.

Or, at least, that's what they believed.

Even decapitated, that fallen angel proved more determined than desired. He murmured the forbidden incantation. The preparations were ready. His being was offered as a sacrifice to free the first angel, the primordial chaos itself, the one who was designed to be the right hand of the Almighty Lord — Nazgaroth — from his prison. That seal was already being broken during the battle; but the three warriors made the mistake of not stopping it at time, of not noticing it.

The Primordial Chaos tore through the veils of time, erased space, and swallowed the cosmos on his vortex of pure darkness.

Planets were consumed. Entire realities were obliterated as dozens of universes just ceased to exist in a blink of an eye.

Desolation was all that remained, in the form of an infinite blank space, where all that could be seen was the figure above what could be measured in any system of measurement. The reason why chaos can't be the pillar of anything itself.

Even so, Akashi and Hokori remained. Wounded, bleeding, but alive. Saved by one of the angels of heaven, the one who adressed Akashi his mission, Adonis, that allowed them to escape total destruction — the last two living beings that existed of that reality.

Even after Akashi's heart break, his sense of duty weight over his back was absolute and the hope has gone, Adonis lifted him up, vowing to be the final confrontation. One last fight.

The battle took place before the eyes of what remained of existence—a desperate battle between the last protectors of Creation and the threat that should never have existed, forged by the very hands of the Almighty.

The battle itself was more than a simple fight, but a pure cosmic event. Something that would be carved on the existence forever as: the battle that decided the destiny of everything.

Fortunately, both warriors prevailed.

Before Nazgaroth seized the power of that old world’s ancient deity—plunging it into utter chaos—he had been sealed by the very angel who guided Akashi Taiga through that ordeal. Adonis locked away the primordial chaos and cast it into an unreachable plane, created by the hands of the King of All himself—the Lord of Eternity and the infinite existing realities. Under divine oath, Adonis promised the seal would never be broken again, ensuring that he would be giving his life to fulfill that vow.

With the help of the old world's god, what was lost was restored. However, they were rewritten into a new reality where that future would never happen—time rewound, becoming the first gear for a new era.

No one else remembered. No one else suffered.

But Akashi… took another path.

Carrying the burden of destruction, convinced his existence attracted evil, he departed with Adonis toward the Celestial Kingdom. There, his life would change forever.

He was satisfied with the new world that had been born.

No memories. No regrets.

The faces were the same, the events familiar... but no one remembered the name of the one who fought fiercely to protect their smiles and who now walked away so that a disaster of such scale would never repeat itself.

—— Akashi Taiga was forgotten.

△▼△▼△▼△

...

....

...

...

The Hell no longer screams.

What was once a living abyss, pulsing with agony and fire, now lay in sepulchral silence.

The sky—if it could still be called that—was shattered, as if a giant glass wall had been smashed against the firmament, leaving a massive rift. The flames that once danced incessantly upon the horizon were now mere burning cracks, flickering in a veil of fragmented shadow.

The ground was hollowed, broken, shredded.

Infinite ravines cut through the earth like open wounds, exhaling heavy vapors and the echoes of the last souls who screamed there. The macabre tower that once pierced the heavens with its 190 kilometers of horror... had collapsed, its debris scattered like the ribs of a fallen titan.

Pieces of creatures, limbs belonging to no known form, eyes still open trapped in twisted faces, torn claws, broken tails, shattered horns—all of this composed the carpet of carnage. The world, which once thrived on pain, was now simply rotting in silence, as if its essence had been drained.

And in the heart of that field of ruin, upon a black rock rising from the rubble, he sat.

— ... tsk.

Akashi Taiga clicked his tongue as the silver blade in his hands was returned to its black and gold sheath.

Motionless. Intact.

He observed the undone world before him with eyes that mixed judgment and indifference.

The right, a deep blue, like a frozen ocean. The left, an incandescent red, like the last trace of the hell that dared to face him.

Both fixed, as if challenging the very concept of pain.

—— "It seems this is it. In the end, the first floor wasn't much. The sin of sloth was, indeed, the weakest."

His voluminous hair, white as snow and tied in an impeccable bun, hadn't even been touched by the chaos.

The black compression shirt molded his well-built torso perfectly—without a single tear, without a single stain.

The beige harem pants, wide and elegant, remained clean, as if the dust and blood had forgotten him.

The high-top boots, firm on his feet, were intact—neither lava, nor acid, nor monsters dared to touch them.

The abyss that once roared now only listened.

Akashi said nothing more.

He didn't need to.

His silence was sharper than his katana, more brutal than any command.

There, in that vastness of extinct suffering, he was the last vestige of order, the presence that remained after chaos was annihilated.

And hell… had lost.

— You are finished, it seems?

— Yeah. I'm done.

He replied to a figure that suddenly appeared in the chaotic space—its imposing presence enough to distort the space around it.

— But you don't seem satisfied... did something go wrong?

— Hm... let’s just say it’s an old case of "the longing for having, and the boredom of possessing." I finished those bastards, I got my revenge, but... it wasn't what I expected. Perhaps they were too weak.

His heterochromatic, apathetic eyes slid to the figure beside him. He spoke with listlessness, staring at the being next to him—if "being" is even a sufficient word.

It wore a white tunic with gold details that reached its feet—feet that resembled those of a man. Long sleeves completely hid its hands. The visible skin was pale and luminous, as if the light of a golden firefly flowed through it. It stood nearly three meters tall.

The most peculiar part, however, was its head: formed by two interlocking wheels covered in dozens of bluish eyes. In the center, a sphere of intense light pulsed, encircled by the wheels. Behind its back, two immense pairs of white wings—made of pure energy, not directly touching it—moved with silent grace.

Despite the entity's imposition, Akashi spoke to it like an old acquaintance. An abnormal intimacy, considering the nature of the being.

— Adonis... why did you come?

— I bring a message from our Lord. I was instructed to deliver it personally, since you were so immersed in your personal vendetta against Hell.

— A message from the Master?

— Your new mission involves two planets in quadrant 12XATH—what you call "Universe 12"—located in the Athos galaxy.

— Athos... the one that looks like an cliché medieval kingdom, right?

Adonis nodded.

— If that is how you wish to describe it.

Since being taken by Adonis after defeating Nazgaroth, Akashi's soul had been reforged in sacred flames, ceasing to be entirely human—perhaps twenty-five percent remained. He became something more. He underwent the basic training of an angel. After that, under the orders of the King of All, he was tasked with missions across the infinite.

Today, Akashi specializes in dealing with cosmic threats and preserving the balance: interdimensional invasions, universal-scale wars, demonic corruption, ruptures in the pillars of existence and the folds of time. These are not frequent tasks—only crucial ones.

— Regardless, the message is: go to the planet Callus. Soon, an event will occur that, if not contained, could cost the lives of two entire planets. A war is approaching.

— A war, huh? And what’s the cause?

— The king of Callus—Rigel—has entered into conflict with Antares, the sovereign of Artoria, a neighboring planet. Rigel and Antares are fighting over a stolen object whose power is equivalent to a universe at its "peak"... and they are willing to start an intergalactic war for it. Go there. If possible, mediate.

— Mediate, huh? That’s not exactly my specialty. I usually resolve things through impact, not dialogue. I’m no cleric.

— It is a direct order from our Father. His words are absolute, and any attempt at debate is futile. Go.

"What a situation..." Akashi thought, letting out a long sigh as his eyes turned to the sky above—split into a colossal X. The dark and infernal firmament was now a dimensional rift suspended over the absolute void.

— Hey, why do you think Behemoth didn't come here after everything I did?

— The Infernal King does not act like his servants. Each floor has its capital sin and lower-class allies to take responsibility; the king chooses to remain on his throne, where he is constantly empowered.

—... a recluse, and a lazy one, huh...?

He looked back at Adonis and, despite the urgency, managed a slight smile. Tilting his face slightly to the side, he spoke in an almost playful tone:

— Fine. I'll handle the Callus matter. But first, I'm stopping by home—I want to prepare properly. If the universe needs a cleaning, I’ll be the one to get my hands dirty in the process.

— Do as you wish. But be on Callus within three days. Otherwise, your mission will be considered a failure.

— Whoa, hold on! I'm not looking for another black mark on my mission record, okay? Look, I'm going, I'm already gone!

As the youth spoke, his body began to dissolve into white particles of pure light, dissipating rapidly until he completely vanished from the infernal world. Adonis merely observed in silence; even without a face, one could feel the angel's immutable coldness as he watched the boy disappear.

Every mission of Akashi’s was a test. A step in his journey toward something he didn't even know yet—his true promotion. A test of independence, of choice, of purpose.

A deep sigh crossed the ruinous winds of the infernal field.

— That boy...

He said, now alone amidst the devastation.

△▼△▼△▼△

At that same moment...

The wind blew.

A sandstorm took hold of a massive golden desert somewhere in the cosmos. The sky was orange, leaving no room to see the sun, stars, or whatever else might be there.

But this was no ordinary desert.

The dunes did not just move with the wind—they pulsed, as if the ground breathed in slow, unsettling cycles. There was something alive in the sands, something that never slept. They said the sand here was made of the fossilized echoes of a forgotten civilization, and that every grain carried the memory of a scream.

Through the air, glowing fragments of buried crystals flashed like ghost fireflies, vibrating slightly as the storm passed. Under certain wind frequencies, they emitted soft noises, like chants sung by mourning souls.

In the distance, gravitational ravines opened in the middle of the desert—abysses that sucked in light, bending space like liquid mirrors. Some white creatures fell inside and simply vanished. Others floated in endless cycles, trapped between weight and the void.

Semi-ghostly plants bloomed only under the distorted light of magical lightning, sprouting and withering in a matter of seconds. Birds with crystalline bodies crossed the skies with sharp cries, their bodies glinting like suspended swords, flying in perfect circles—as if protecting something.

Embedded in the heart of the desert, a collapsed structure rose: the Column of the Three Suns. A floating obelisk, wrapped in broken chains, suspended over a crater boiling with cold flames—blue, then purple, then silver—burning without heat. There, shadows moved on their own, following their own paths, as if whispering forbidden routes to unsuspecting travelers.

Among the buried ruins, broken towers, heads of ancestral statues, and reconfigurable runes whispered a dead language. And from time to time, the wind brought with it fragments of voices—scattered memories that invaded the mind like emotional lightning: battles, promises, betrayals, prayers. All scraps of a past devoured by oblivion.

In the distance, a cosmic worm broke through the sand like a ship cutting through waves. Its body gleamed like black glass and left spiral trails—like the footprints of a formless god.

At the edge of a rocky plateau, colossal footprints pressed into the ground told the story of an impossible presence. Local residents called this place the Tomb of Shattered Wings, believing that a celestial being had fallen there, burying its glory in the desert so it would never be found.

Time here was unreliable. Ancient sundials spun backward. Temporal rifts opened for minutes, revealing reflections of worlds that never existed—or perhaps still exist in unchosen versions.

And in the center of it all, hovering over the world like an open eye without eyelids, the orange sky remained still… until, for a moment, it yielded to a crack—a black line cutting through the firmament like a cosmic scar, announcing that something was approaching.

Or someone.

———

Inside one of the towers, there was a shadow. Not in the conventional sense; it was like a literal walking shadow wandering in the darkness. Its body was even darker than darkness itself, and the atmosphere distorted merely by its presence.

Slow steps echoed inside the structure, seemingly isolated.

In almost deadly silence, the shadow walked down a corridor calmly, as if nothing worried it. Finally, reaching its goal.

Before it, something like two doors in the shape of an inverted V, apparently locked.

—— Well, this shouldn't be a problem.

Its body dissolved like black mist, abandoning its solid material form and passing through the doors via the smallest cracks. Entering a chamber silently.

— This is it.

It said with a raspy, dark voice, that shadowy being with no perceptible physical form amidst the gloom. Its body—a silhouette—resembled that of a man, as did its voice, but there was nothing particularly notable about its being.

Before it, an altar. It climbed the staircase with ease; at the top, a dim light was all that illuminated the room.

The environmental pressure was overwhelming. The air, thick with radiation, indicated that almost no one could pass through those doors without proper preparation unless they wanted to die, of course.

The dim light of the altar pulsed slowly, as if it had a heart of its own.

The silhouette approached—soundless steps, suffocating presence. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, the being extended an indistinct hand. Its fingers seemed to form out of nothing, created by mere intent.

With a single touch, the light went out.

The altar opened.

From it, a small sphere floated out—translucent, pulsing, surrounded by rotating rings and golden particles that drifted around it like tiny satellites of a newborn planet.

The shadow observed it for a few seconds in silence.

— The... Exo Nihil.

The sphere glowed slightly upon hearing its name, as if responding to the summons.

— The last fragment of a universe... condensed into raw form.

He extended both hands, and the sphere slowly descended until it rested upon them. No emotion was visible, but the air around seemed to bend—the entire chamber shuddered with a subtle and dangerous force, as if time had held its breath.

— A bunch of idiots, they couldn't hide it forever...

A crack ran across the ceiling of the chamber.

Not a physical one—but a perceptible one. A cut in reality, thin as a thread, crossing the firmament above the tower.

The being retrieved the sphere, making it disappear into its own silhouette, as if it had been absorbed by the darkness.

Without haste, he descended the steps, walking toward the exit. The pressure in the air dissipated slowly, as if the world could breathe again—but the damage was already done.

——Hm?

BOOM!

△▼△▼△▼△

The entire chamber was destroyed.

In a single blink of an eye, a purple explosion emerged from the altar, as if programmed to activate as soon as the last step was reached. There was no warning—only light, heat, and ruin.

The detonation swept away a third of the tower, reducing metal, stone, and mana to dust in a fraction of a second. The structure, wounded at its base, began to tilt slowly until it collapsed, like a giant falling in the desert.

The impact resonated throughout the region. The sand rose like a living wall, swallowing the surroundings while seismic waves tore through the ground with violence. A dull echo traveled for kilometers, and the orange sky trembled, stained by purple smoke.

Observing the destruction were hundreds of forms among the dunes.

Tall beings, nearly four meters high, with bodies that looked like living carapaces—organic armor in white and black, each with pointed shoulders and a sort of bone crown shaped like four vertical spikes.

Their eyes—bright and wide—pulsed with animal ferocity.

Their hands, deformed, bore curved retractable blades, like claws forged from bone itself. They were imposing, silent, and surrounded the rubble of the tower without uttering a single word.

It was then that a voice emerged, casual and unhurried:

— Sentinels, huh? So this place wasn't as abandoned as it seemed...

The head of one of the Sentinels snapped around abruptly.

Behind it, the figure of a man was already there.

With ash-gray hair tied in a short ponytail, he exhibited a relaxed, almost bored presence. His body was strong and proportionate, of average height—between 1.70m and 1.80m. His skin, a soft lilac tone, contrasted with his golden eyes, half-closed, as if they barely cared about the scene around them.

He had pointed ears and a youthful face like someone who would never age.

He wore a black trench coat with sleeves rolled up to his biceps; underneath, a simple shirt—also black—marked with a white new moon symbol on the left chest. He wore dark trousers and a pair of well-polished black shoes. Brown gloves covered his hands.

With his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head slightly, like someone observing an incomplete painting.

— But what intrigues me...

A slight smile formed on his lips.

—...is why the hell didn't you attack me before?

Tension materialized in the air—as if the desert itself held its breath.

—— We wanted to see what kind of idiot would dare invade the Desert of Valdrin. And we would give him a chance to apologize... before the execution.

An imposing woman's voice echoed through the fragmented skies. Her arrival tore the firmament—a spatial rift opening in the middle of the rotating vortex that corrupted the orange sky.

From the fissure, a figure descended slowly, as if not governed by gravity. Her feet, wrapped in off-white heels with a dull glow, touched the living sand of the desert softly.

— ...I didn't imagine it would be you. In any case, do me the favor of returning the Exo Nihil; it cannot leave this planet...

—— Nacht.

Nacht smiled, as if meeting an old friend on a peaceful afternoon—completely oblivious to the woman's heavy tone.

— Well, well... big sister. How long has it been, eh? I see you're still doing very well... serving the glorious royal guard of that little planet.

— I am not your sister. Not after what you did.

The contrast was stark. While Nacht smiled, relaxed, gesturing with his hand as if waving in provocation, the woman before him carried deep, old... and bitter sadness in her eyes.

She was stunning, yes—but not as a damsel, but as a celestial force marked by time.

Her pale skin reflected the desert’s glow like living silver. Her long ash-gray hair cascaded like a luminous waterfall down her back, partially covered by the silver armor with gold details that protected her body.

On her back, a scarlet cape billowed in the wind.

Her eyes were hidden under a silver visor that curved around her temples and forehead, as if hiding both her vision and her pain.

— Hey, easy there... I haven't even done much—yet.

— Scoundrel... How can you say that with that face?

She stepped on the ground with force.

The impact was brutal. A seismic tremor tore through the desert for kilometers, shaking dunes, rocks, and even the Sentinels who had stood still as statues. They shuddered—not out of fear, but out of respect for the fury that had just manifested.

Her voice trembled with anger, but behind it was an abyss of sorrow.

— You... killed our parents... annihilated our people as if they were genetic trash. All for what?! More of your annoying experiments? You treated them as if they were simple disposable guinea pigs!

— Tsc. Your limited mind would never understand... But yes—it is exactly that.

People, civilizations, gods, or beasts—all are disposable variables in the name of Truth. Of curiosity. Of knowledge.

He took a step forward, his smile never fading.

— Tell me, Reala... have you never thought about achieving immortality?

— Immortality...?

— Yes. Immortality. The incapacity to die. To live eternally without the fear of your own life being took by someone stronger. What is it? How is it achieved? Where does the cycle end and the absolute begin?

His golden eyes flashed briefly, now more serious.

— You’ve never thought, Reala... how we, mere mortals, are constantly at risk? How we live at the mercy of monsters like those out there?

— What are you talking about...?

— Don't play dumb, you know what it is. Those aberrations from the so called “Greatest and Most Devastating Cataclysm of the Cosmos.” Doesn't it infuriate you, knowing those things exist out there—wandering the universe, killing, destroying everything they find with their abyssal powers?!

He took another step forward, his voice becoming more intense.

— We can die at any moment, Reala. Out of nowhere. All it takes is another event like that, and no one would even have time to realize they were erased from existence! Your life, mine, everyone’s—discarded, swept away like dust by creatures that don't feel, don't think, don't care about the damage they leave! DON’T YOU SEE?! OUR MORTALITY IS THE PRISON THAT MAKES US THEIR VICTIMS!

Nacht's emotional explosion reverberated through the desert like thunder—his voice raw, loaded with resentment and dread disguised as reason.

Reala remained silent.

Her lips parted, hesitating. Her right hand rested on her chest, as if trying to contain something boiling inside.

She understood, yes... the weight of what he said.

That ancestral war—that calamity—had destroyed entire worlds. Erased civilizations.

But she knew.

Reala knew.

She knew that what moved Nacht was not justice.

It wasn't grief.

It wasn't indignation for the dead.

It was something much more intimate. More rotten. More human.

— You say all this... but not out of compassion. Not because you think we suffer an injustice at the hands of those above us.

— Hmph...

— I know you, Nacht. Ever since you were born. You never accepted being beneath anyone... You always sought ways to equal or surpass others, even if it meant crossing any line. What you feel... is inferiority. It's that damned feeling of being overshadowed—of being too small in the face of something greater!

Nacht clenched his fists. The mocking smile was gone.

— You stupid. Did you understand nothing of what I just said? ALL I want is to achieve immortality... to evolve as an absolute being... so I never again have to be crushed by the superiority of those monsters!

— No, Nacht! You're just using that as an Excuse! A pathetic... despicable excuse. One that cost our parents' lives. Our people's lives. All because of your damn experiments in the name of a objective... that might not even be succeeded!

— Tsc... you speak as if you’re different from me, Reala. But deep down... you also fear the fragility imposed upon us. You just prefer to pretend you have control, pretend that accepting death makes us noble. I am sorry for the lives lost in that clash, but you saw it yourself, didn't you? In the end, everything that was lost returned before our eyes... nothing was permanent.

— Hah! You're saying it's fine for them to kill us and then bring it all back as if it were something trivial? It's fine for you to be a pile of nothing to them?!

— Accepting death... is recognizing that life has value. That what we build matters. That there is beauty even in finitude.

— Beauty?! In seeing your world destroyed in seconds? In losing everything you love to a creature that doesn't even know your name? You call that beauty? I call it WEAKNESS!

He pointed his finger at her, his golden eyes now boiling.

— You deceive yourself... and hide behind pretty words because you're afraid to look into the abyss like I did. I saw what lies beyond. I understood. And I refused to be just another candle snuffed out in the storm. That is why I became what I am. That is why... I am necessary.

Reala clenched her fists. Her hand trembled. She turned her face away for a moment, gripped by a thought she didn't want to acknowledge.

—...Do you really believe that?

— Every word.

She took a deep breath. The pain burned in her chest. It wasn't simple anger—it was unresolved grief. A brother who no longer existed. An idealist who had crossed a line from which he would never return.

—...So this is it? This is the path you've chosen?

— I chose not to be the victim, sis. And you? Are you going to keep pretending the world is fair? Keep living at the mercy of those who call themselves "superiors"?

A long silence followed. The wind swept the desert between them.

The Sentinels, still motionless, waited. The silver visor over Reala's eyes reflected her brother's figure—distorted, distant, unrecognizable.

Finally, she raised her hand. Cold, but sad.

— Sentinels...

— Oh? Going to try to silence me because you can't face the truth?

— Eliminate him.

Her voice whispered, but the command was received.

Instantly, the Sentinels moved like the awakened gears of a forgotten war machine.

The sand exploded under their heavy feet, and dozens of them advanced in unison, like a living tide of white and black steel.

Nacht merely broke into a slight smile.

— Finally... some emotion.

The shadows shuddered around Nacht.

In a single instant, his body distorted, and a long black weapon sprouted from his hands—a living spear made of flaming shadows, like embers burning in silence.

With a swift spin, he advanced.

SHHRAK!!

Five Sentinels were decapitated at once, their heads tossed into the air like empty shells. Their bodies took a few staggering steps before collapsing onto the hot sand.

The spear danced like a whirlwind of destruction—a living extension of Nacht’s hatred and obsession.

He spun, lunged, and slashed, moving through the enemies like a black bolt in perpetual motion.

A distorted cry escaped one of the Sentinels:

— Grgh!!

Ten of them surrounded him at once, leaping brutally in pursuit—the retractable blades on their wrists ready to impale him from all sides.

The roar of the charge shook the desert.

But... Nacht was no longer there.

In place of the man, only fragments of floating darkness remained, swirling in the air like cursed dust.

Above, he manifested again—floating amidst the shadows, the cold smile still etched on his face.

— Tsc... slow.

Without giving them a chance to react, he raised his arms—and from them, dozens of shadow blades were fired in every direction, like sharp black wings snapping open.

The blades pierced the Sentinels in mid-air, tearing through armor, spines, and skulls as if they were paper.

— KHRRGHH!!

— GGRRAAAH!!

The screams ceased almost instantly.

The shadows Nacht had fired saturated the enemies' bodies like poisonous smoke, penetrating them, tearing them apart from within.

Then, in absolute silence... the bodies vanished.

No flesh.

No bones.

No blood.

Just nothing.

A vacuum where life had once been.

Nacht landed lightly on the ground, his spear—a Naginata—still dripping with living shadows as if bleeding darkness.

— You haven't learned anything... I’ve evolved. You’ve been left behind——!

The sound of metal clashing echoed.

A powerful air pressure burst through the atmosphere, accompanied by a deafening and shrill impact. The sand rose immediately, forming a dense curtain of dust.

Nacht’s lilac eyes widened—surprised by the force behind the blade that had collided with his naginata.

A type of sword with an elongated hilt and blade, capable of functioning as a spear.

A Nagamaki.

— Raaaagh!!

— Kuh!?

Nacht's body was thrown backward after a second lunge—a thrust he barely managed to parry with his weapon.

The soles of his shoes dragged through the sand, and the world around became a blur.

Without hesitation, Reala's figure closed the distance in the blink of an eye.

Wielding her blade with a single arm, she delivered a vertical strike—again met by a cutting crash.

— You have strength, sister... But you hesitate!

— Tsk! You wouldn't understand! You’ve become a dark and soulless monster, trapped in your own inferiority!

The blades separated...

And collided again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Each clash made the air vibrate—the shapes of the weapons disappearing from view, replaced by flashes, sparks, and metallic sound.

It was like a mirror before both.

Every strike delivered was blocked with precision. Every defense, answered with another fierce attack.

With a jump, Nacht retreated, avoiding an upward cut. Spinning his body, he danced with the spear in hand before thrusting it—the blade extending like a living shadow.

But Reala was already expecting it.

She leaped to the side and counterattacked in one fluid motion, striking Nacht's abdomen with the blunt side of her blade, launching him like a projectile into the debris of a long-forgotten tower.

The impact sounded like thunder.

Nacht's body tore through the solid structure as if he had forgotten his own intangibility capabilities.

— Luminae... So you... are in possession of one of those...

Buried in rubble, Nacht broke into a crooked smile—a glimpse of something terrible in mind.

He stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes, and faced Reala.

— You disgust me, sister! Using such a weapon against your own family?! Do you feel no shame?

— Look who's talking...

— This has lasted long enough. I'm not the type to appreciate long bouts... so I’ll have to finish you now.

With a dry thud, his palms touched.

Darkness erupted under his feet.

Like a living night, a pool of gloom expanded and swallowed everything around—sand, rubble, and even light. A black and silent abyss was forming in the desert.

Nacht smiled. Defiant.

Provoking his sister to react.

— Gates of Babylon...

— ?!

Reala drove her Nagamaki into the sand. At once, the ground became shimmering glass.

She raised her hands forward—and a colossal windstorm began.

A furious tornado surrounded her body.

— Dammit...!

Nacht’s shadows stiffened like blades, extending toward Reala. But the tornado was merciless.

— Open!

Her command echoed like a universal truth.

From the tornado, four colossal arms emerged, crushing the shadows as if they were paper.

The impact opened a massive crater.

But Nacht had escaped—merging into the shadows beneath him.

He reappeared meters away, leaping from a dark rift. His teeth were now pointed, his ash-gray hair fluttering as if it were alive.

— You made a contract with the King of Babylon... You’re not so different from them!

— To stop evil... to bring justice... I would do anything!

— So be it!

Landing on the ground, his body changed.

Darkness enveloped him.

Fingers became claws.

Skin, an absolute pitch-black.

Only his lilac eyes remained visible.

Horns emerged, contouring his head like a crown.

A long, sharp tail grew from his back.

— I’ll kill you right here!!

He vanished into the air.

But Reala, firm, pulled her blade from the glassy ground and parried the descending attack with precision.

The sound of the impact cut through the skies.

In response, one of the colossal fists struck Nacht, throwing him away like a projectile.

He spun in the air, releasing five spheres of dark energy.

Reala cut through each one, but the explosions forced her back.

— Huh!!

— WRAAAGH!!

From the sand, a black spike shot out—hitting Reala’s silver armor at the abdomen.

Despite the impact, the blade did not penetrate.

But she was launched into the sky, spinning.

— This is bad... he’s evolving too fast.— Al Kua Rei!!

The colossal arms destroyed the spike with synchronized strikes, shattering the darkness as if it were metal.

But Reala stopped.

Her body... was halted in mid-air.

A hand rested on her back.

A sinister presence.

— Ah!?

— Have you ever had the experience... of falling from the sky?!

A black sphere with purple nuances enveloped her body.

Screams of pain echoed.

Inside the sphere, Reala suffered invisible cuts, burns, piercings—a thousand pains all at once.

And then, she was hurled to the ground.

Like a black meteor.

The impact shook the entire desert.

— Heh...

— Raaah!!

Sentinels advanced, but Nacht dodged with ease.

With his hands behind his back, he watched them with disdain.

He let out a dry, cruel laugh.

In a blink of an eye, the Sentinels' bodies were compressed into black spheres.

Then, crushed against each other—reduced to nothing.

— Hehehehe... HAHAHAHAHA!! I can feel it... I'm getting closer and closer to my goal! To my destiny! Soon... I will abandon mortality! I will be like the superiors! I will never feel anguish again... or the fear of simply ceasing to exist!

The four colossal hands appeared, ready to crush him with all their might.

But...

Black fissures—true spatial rifts—swallowed each of the arms. They weren't black holes... but close. Fissures of pure vacuum. Cuts in reality.

The hands were erased.

Nacht was unharmed.

More than that—confident.

— Now... all that’s left is...

△▼△▼△▼△

The fissures dissipated... and silence fell.

In the stagnant, heavy sky, a silhouette descended slowly.

Nacht.

With his hands in his pockets and his tail swaying gently, he landed lightly, as if time itself slowed down to receive him.

The sand beneath him seemed to recede instinctively, as if recognizing the presence of something that shouldn't exist.

The Sentinels... did not move.

Even with the unspoken order to protect Reala, none approached.

It wasn't fear... it was a primitive instinct.

The same one that prevents an inferior creature from meeting the gaze of an absolute predator.

Before him, Reala agonized.

Her body lay partially buried in a crater.

Her armor—broken, shattered, almost non-existent.

The once-shining visor, destroyed, revealing silvery eyes, opaque, lifeless, without glow.

The blood, viscous and dark red, formed a pool beneath her body.

Nacht approached with calm steps.

The sand made no sound under his feet.

— Look at you... See what your mortality has caused.

He knelt before his fallen sister, tilting his face with scorn.

—— "Did you feel it on your skin... what it's like to be overpowered by something beyond your comprehension? This despair... this helplessness... this cruel reality? Well, this is the real world, Reala. And I hate it."

The wounded woman remained silent for a few seconds. Her fingers trembled.

And then, with difficulty, she raised her head.

— Not... not all beautiful things... need to last forever—— ... Life... is one of them.

Nacht narrowed his eyes. The smile withered for a moment... but then, he laughed.

— What nonsense... And because of this poetic stupidity of yours... you will die here, alone and defeated.

His tone changed.

Less provocation. More... rage.

— It was always like this, wasn't it? You were faster... stronger... more skilled. I never had your dexterity. I was never the prodigy. But all of that... All of that is compensated for with power!

— I... already knew. That you had... used the power of the Exo Nihil... Stolen from the tower...

Her body trembled, her breathing irregular, but her voice still held a slight tone of firmness.

— Y-You are so desperate to reach your... objectives... so pathetic... That you need to resort to external sources to win... against... someone who wasn't even at... at full power...

Nacht froze.

— I-In... the end... h-hehe... I was always... b-better...agh...!

Her weak voice could barely be heard as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and the unbearable pain persisted.

For a second, hatred filled his eyes.

In a dry and cruel gesture, one of the shadow arms elongated and pierced Reala’s chest, impaling her completely.

——Regardless... I WON.

The woman's body shuddered.

She didn't scream.

She didn't writhe.

She just cried.

Tears flowed from her opaque, silvery eyes, now blurred and without light.

Blood ran down the shadow blade, dripping onto the sand like warm rain.

Reala's hand fell to her side, devoid of strength.

Her head slumped slightly.

And then...

Her vision went dark.

The Sentinels, motionless...

The desert, silent...

The pool of blood, now vast, mixed with the sand, staining it deep scarlet.

The wind stopped blowing. Everything froze.

And Nacht... just looked at the body before him.

— What a nonsense...

——...inferior being.

△▼△▼△▼△

The shadows abandoned his body. His figure, once fierce and monstrous, regressed to his previous humanoid state.

His clothes didn't even seem damaged—after all, they were mere manifestations of shadows in the form of garments. They could be altered and repaired whenever he wished.

Finally...

— Now it's time to leave.

A fierce smile formed. A pool of shadows emerged under the corpse of the beautiful and youthful woman, and black hands grabbed her body, slowly pulling it into the darkness. Nacht watched without the slightest pity. Without the slightest resentment.

— Your master is gone. Faced with her inferiority and my superiority... I order you to serve me as your new master. Those who turn against me will die instantly.

"Bow."

The order echoed in the souls of the legion of Sentinelas, who remained motionless, fixed as statues. In a way, it was natural to expect the strongest to inherit the position of leader after defeating the previous one.

But... how far did the loyalty of those beings go?

Would they accept a new master... when the previous one had been exterminated before their eyes?

The answer came.

One after another, the Sentinels touched their knees to the sandy ground. They bowed their heads, silent, as if swearing eternal loyalty—not out of honor, but out of instinct. Out of fear.

— Heheh... HAHAHAHAHA!!

His heart had plunged into shadows long ago. Sadness, fear, anguish—they no longer reached him.

No one else.

That's why he laughed. Because he saw his goal approaching—to the point where living weapons like the Sentinels bowed before him, the man who sought to transcend mortality.

Then...

— Huh?!——

A chill. A subtle step behind him.

Nacht turned immediately, eyes wide.

— You cannot beat me.

— H-huh...?

Before his eyes stood a man. Tall. Peach-colored hair tied in an impeccable bun.

A scar marked the corner of his lips. His eyes—cold, multicolored in tones of silver and red—the latter having a completely black sclera.

His expression was one of silent contempt.

A black and gold cloak covered his body, the hood casting a shadow over his face, making his eyes glow in the dimness. A thin tattoo ran from the side of his forehead to below his left eye.

The wind blew hard. The desert seemed to breathe.

"When did he get here?! This guy has an... terrifying presence!"

Thousands of voices screamed, groaned, howled inside Nacht's mind. The atmosphere was heavy; the grains of sand rose slowly to the sky, as if defying gravity. Nacht felt nauseated.

Or... insane.

— Even if it's like this... I'm curious. What kind of experiments can I do with this guy?!—— I've decided. I'm taking him with me!

Shadows swirled around him like living flares. Nacht smiled and reached out toward the stranger.

—— An easy victory!

Or so he thought.

— What is this?

— Agh?!

In an instant. A blink of an eye.

Nacht's right arm simply ceased to exist.

It didn't even fly away—it was obliterated, undone, annihilated.

No one understood what happened.

Even more shocking was the object the man was holding:

A translucent sphere of light, pulsing, with golden rings rotating around it. Ethereal particles floated around it, as if time itself bent to its presence.

Exo Nihil.

— G-gaah!! H-how did you get that?!

— What are you talking about?

— The Exo Nihil! E-everything my shadows consume... goes into an isolated space! A closed, impenetrable domain! N-no one can just enter there! And yet, you took it?!

— I reached out my hand. And I took it. There is no secret. Wait, was its name again?

The tone was dry. Indifferent. As if traversing private dimensions was a routine matter.

The most revolting part was how he held the Exo Nihil—with lack of interest, like someone playing with a cheap ornament.

— K-kh!! That is an Exo Nihil! Don't ask something so obvious!

— Exo... what?

— It's the remains of a dying universe! It collapsed naturally—its last spark was condensed! It has the power to extinguish entire worlds! And it belongs to me! Give it back! It's mine!

The man observed the sphere once more. He spun it between his fingers, twirling it with boredom.

— What a nonsense.

He sighed.

— This thing doesn't even seem to have a third of what you say. You're making it up. —— It's just... trash.

— Give it back to me now!!

The man fell silent. His eyes analyzed Nacht with coldness.

Like someone observing an insect... squirming.

"You talk too much", the mysterious man muttered, then, he lightly squeezed the sphere between his fingers.

Craaaaaack——

A single crack appeared.

Next, the Exo Nihil shattered completely, like fragile glass crushed by the hands of a god.

The golden particles rose in spirals, vanishing into the sky like cosmic dust.

The last spark of a universe... reduced to nothing.

As if it had never existed.

— N-no... no... NO!! What have you done...?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

The man turned, ignoring him completely.

— Well, I guess I'll be going to the next planet.

— YOU MISERABLE BASTARD!!

In a maddened charge, Nacht roared like a beast in fury, his face distorted by hatred.

He lunged like a bolt—a black blur cutting through the air, eyes wide, mouth tightened into a manic grin.

Bloodlust seeped from his pores.

Shadows partially enveloped his body, distorting his appearance. His arms became long and gnarled, his fingers tapering into shadowy, almost liquid claws.

He leaped violently, delivering a diagonal strike from top to bottom.

The air screamed.

ZRAAAAAHHHH!!

The blade of shadows tore through the sky. A cutting blast exploded from the impact, opening the desert floor in a long, smoking fissure.

A failed attack.

— Like I said before.

— Huh...?!

— You cannot beat me.

Without haste. Without emotion. The man had simply tilted his body to the side, dodging by instinct, as if it were... tedious.

Nacht felt it.

The following instant was a dry pop, a dull sound that silenced the world.

The man's open palm sank directly into the pit of his stomach—with absolute precision.

It was as if he had been hit by a planet.

BOOOOOOOM!!!

The impact unleashed a storm.

In a radius of 190 kilometers, dunes, rocks, and the Sentinels themselves were swept away like pollen in the wind.

Mountains in the distance crumbled. The sky darkened for moments. The sand became a suffocating cloud.

But in the center...

There, Nacht still hovered, held by the hand that pierced him with crushing force.

— G-gurgh... Gah...!

Blood gushed from his mouth along with a jet of bile and gastric juice. His eyes rolled back. His legs trembled in the air like rags.

No air. No strength. No direction.

Consciousness was leaving him, plunging him into a silent, damp mist.

His body fell.

It sank into the sand with a dull thud. An empty doll.

Defeated, motionless, useless.

The man adjusted his cloak, sighing.

— How boring.

That desert was abandoned by the silent figure, whose name was not even given.

Amidst the grains of sand, hiding in the dust, the man vanished. The only trace of his existence was the humiliation left upon Nacht, as a reward for his folly.

△▼△▼△▼△

The desert wind took with it the last vestiges of that silent presence—a figure whose name was never pronounced, but whose power eclipsed all logic.

Nothing remained in his path besides dust and silence. And even that was fleeting.

Meanwhile, in another part of the universe, far from the sand and blood, the light moved toward the unknown. A man with steady eyes, silent steps, but unwavering purpose, prepared for another journey. The Chosen Warrior raised his eyes to the horizon. He knew that peace was temporary. That war would come. And when it did, he would be there—not as a symbol, but as the one who would face it.

———

In the forgotten depths of the world, he was still there. Darkness made flesh. The one who destroyed a universe like someone breaking a toy.

No title, no identity. Just a presence. An idea. An end waiting for a beginning.

He sought neither glory nor revenge. Only the reunion.

Because even the absolute of shadows recognizes the light.

And sooner or later, their paths would cross—not by choice, but by fate.

———

His body lay in the sand, but his spirit burned like never before. The humiliation suffered would not be forgotten—it would sear like red-hot iron into the flesh, like a poisonous seed planted in the midst of chaos.

There was no redemption. Only hatred. And where there is hatred... there is will.

A new era is approaching. The light advances, the darkness watches, and the fallen rise.

The stage is almost set.

Follow the next chapter of this journey in — HORIZONS.

△▼△▼△▼△

Meanwhile, in another part of the cosmos...

A star wandered. Cutting through space like a flash, its objective was unknown, its destination not yet revealed.

But that would be another pillar for this journey.