ZAWISH THE UNSEEN – PART 10: Chronofall
The skies above Chitral boiled in a color that had no name—purple and black, wrapped in green pulses like the veins of something dying. The mountains trembled, rivers shifted backward, and time itself began to stutter like a broken machine gasping for purpose.
And at the center of it all stood Zandar.
He was no longer bound to one form. His flesh morphed unpredictably—one moment a man, the next, a towering beast made of fractured timelines. He wore the ChronoShard Crown, and it buzzed with forbidden energy. It wasn't just time travel anymore. Zandar had cracked reality like an egg and now drank from its shell.
"Time," Zandar whispered, standing atop the ruins of the old World Council Tower, "is a lie told by the weak to survive. I am not here to survive. I am here to undo."
Down below, buried under layers of collapsed time and broken history, Zawish clawed his way out of the ruins.
His left arm was burned, skin charred and peeling like old wallpaper. His right eye flickered between glowing blue and blind black. But his glove—his divine Dar Metal glove—remained untouched, humming like it knew the worst was yet to come.
Zawish stood up, coughing blood into the dirt. "You… bald TikTok version of Satan…" he muttered, eyes narrowing. "You really think you're God now?"
Zandar appeared before him in a glitch of light, smiling wide. "No, Zawish. I am what comes after gods. I'm the editor."
Then he struck.
The punch didn't just hit Zawish—it hit the air, the rocks, and the memories in them. The ground around them aged a thousand years in a second. Flowers bloomed, wilted, and turned to dust in the same blink.
Zawish flew backward, smashing into the mountainside, carving a Z-shaped crater with his body.
Groaning, he stood again, spitting out a tooth. "You need a therapist. And a barber."
Zandar teleported again—this time, slashing with a blade made of the first second of the universe. It cut through sound itself, leaving silence in its wake. Zawish ducked, barely in time, then uppercut Zandar with a punch amplified by the core of Dar Metal itself.
The blast lit the sky in molten silver.
Mountains cracked. Clouds shattered.
Zandar laughed, even as his jaw broke and reformed midair.
"You're funny, Zawish. I'll give you that," he chuckled darkly. "But you're not inevitable. I am."
Zawish cracked his neck. "Then consider this the rewrite."
Their fight turned into a ballet of chaos—brutal, gorgeous, and apocalyptic. Every move they made destroyed a second of history. Dinosaurs flickered back into existence and screamed before vanishing. Roman empires blinked in, burned, then disappeared. The Earth's own memory was unraveling.
They crashed into a city frozen in time—Lahore, year 2155. Hovercars hung in the air, children laughed in silence, birds hovered midflight like mannequins. It was here Zawish threw Zandar through the steel tower of the Future Peace Assembly.
Zandar rose, bleeding time itself. "You can't win," he growled.
Zawish limped forward. "I'm not trying to win. I'm trying to stop you from existing."
Then Zandar's real plan revealed itself.
He activated the Chronofall Device.
A machine the size of a continent, hidden inside Earth's core, designed to pull all versions of history into one—and overwrite them with Zandar's design. A single timeline, ruled by him.
All of existence bent.
People in the present saw their future selves for a moment. Dead loved ones flickered alive. Empires born and broken in microseconds.
Zawish screamed. He couldn't stop it. The machine was too deep, too entwined.
But then—he saw it.
His younger self, from the past, appearing briefly through a fracture in time. The 10-year-old Zawish. Scared. Confused. Watching his older self being ripped apart.
Zawish knew what to do.
He grabbed the boy's hand. Through sheer will, he transferred the glove to his younger self.
"Fix this… before it begins."
And just like that—
Time rewrote itself.
Zawish vanished. So did Zandar.
All of it reset… but the world wasn't quite right.
The sky was now cracked. A massive tear in the shape of an eye hovered above the Himalayas.
Zandar hadn't won.
But he hadn't lost either.
From the shadows, a deep laugh echoed across the broken clouds.
"I'm still here, Zawish," Zandar whispered.