Well, you guys did it.
You are doing it so fast that I am almost tempted to increase the goal count to 100 form now on.
Should I do it? NAAH, not happening soon.
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Chapter 51: The Tyrant's End
Space stretched vast and boundless, a realm of darkness and bitter cold.
Yet today, the Nether World blazed with unholy radiance.
Under the collective gaze of mortals and angels alike, the particle of light condensed by the Emperor's will struck the distant star at the speed of illumination itself.
It pierced through layers of stellar matter, convection zone, radiation zone, until it reached the burning heart and carved a void where no void should exist.
From that impossible hollow erupted brilliance beyond description, as though the gates of some celestial forge had been torn asunder.
Deep radiation hemorrhaged through the wound like molten blood from a titan's heart, forming geysers of plasma that stretched hundreds of thousands of kilometers into the void.
The expelled stellar matter burned at temperatures that could unmake worlds, tens of millions of degrees of pure annihilation. Its light banished shadows from the cosmos itself.
Some fell back to the star's surface, enslaved by gravity's inexorable pull. The rest achieved escape velocity and fled into the infinite dark.
From their vantage point, the dying star appeared to have grown a tree of fire, its branches carved from pure destruction.
As ejected matter bled away the star's internal pressure, fusion reactions faltered and dimmed. The stellar surface darkened to a pallid outline, making the towering flames appear even more stark against the cosmic void, like scars burned into reality's flesh.
With insufficient radiation pressure to maintain structural integrity, the star began its death throes. The outer shell contracted, compressing the inner core beyond all tolerance. What followed was inevitable.
The star exploded.
Violent expansion birthed light that shamed supernovas, and a shockwave that could shatter worlds swept outward like the wrath of vengeful gods.
"We should seek shelter behind the planet," Zhixin advised, her voice tight with concern. "The stellar wind and particle streams from this explosion exceed even what Super Warriors can endure."
She remembered the Great Judgment, how Angel forces had once drawn power from stars through Flame Swords to rain devastation upon Morgana's demon legions.
That attack had been sufficient to threaten Third Generation Divine Bodies. This stellar death surpassed such weapons by orders of magnitude. At this distance, only Sacred Bodies or Fifth Generation Divine Bodies could hope to survive direct exposure.
"Unnecessary," Han Sen declared. Wings of energy unfurled as he positioned himself before the group. "I shall be the Shield of the Galaxy."
A luminous barrier materialized, vast beyond measure, a bulwark against cosmic fury.
The torrential wave of stellar death crashed against it moments later: superheated plasma, lethal radiation, the very substance of a star's demise. The shield held absolute, channeling the destructive energies into the Void World's dimensional space.
"Let there be light," Raven muttered, watching the apocalyptic torrent with sardonic amusement. "Make them blind."
Valdor maintained his stoic silence. The Captain-General had grown accustomed to the creature's cryptic observations.
Nether World
Death God Karl stood upon his palace's obsidian steps, bearing witness to stellar murder. For the first time in eons, despair touched his ethereal heart, and with it, fear.
'Too powerful.So powerful it beggars comprehension'.
He had believed Lena's Solar Flare represented the pinnacle of destructive capability. Before the Emperor's casual genocide of starlight, such power seemed childish, a mortal playing with chemical explosives while a god wielded nuclear fire.
The Great Clock suspended above his domain worked frantically, calculating defensive algorithms and redistributing energy to resist the approaching catastrophe.
\Ironically, the star's violent death had temporarily strengthened the Nether World's shields through increased wormhole energy input, a blessing born from devastation that would preserve this realm and its inhabitants.
Without this fortuitous surge, the stellar explosion would have scoured all life from the Nether World. Only Karl himself, with his phantom body, and Hua Ye, blessed with a Fifth Generation Divine Body, would have endured.
In the void, Zhao Xin, Zhixin, and their companions fell silent, faces etched with shock and awe. Even Lena, she who commanded the power of Solar Flare, watched in muted reverence.
Her own stellar manipulation required complex calculations, careful preparation, intricate cooperation between multiple celestial computers. When Emerald Star had been destroyed, it had taken the combined efforts of Morgana's Demon Wings and Karl's Great Clock, assisted by the star's natural senescence, to achieve detonation.
The Emperor had murdered a star in its prime with a gesture.
Confronted by such absolute power, Lena felt truly insignificant for the first time in her divine existence.
The Master of Mankind paid little heed to His audience's stunned silence. His golden gaze fixed upon the Nether World, where protective shields slowly dimmed to manageable levels.
"Come," He commanded with imperial authority. "Let Us settle accounts with Our enemies."
The words broke the spell that held them. As one, they turned toward their destination.
"Death God Karl," Zhixin called out as she soared toward the Nether World, her voice ringing with righteous anticipation. "I have returned."
She remembered her original mission, Holy Kesha's command to monitor Karl and, should he transgress, deliver the Great Judgment upon his head.
Her carelessness had led to ambush and near-death. Since then, catastrophe had followed catastrophe: Kesha's fall, her own forced slumber, the siege of Angel City.
The Angel forces had suffered grievous losses and entered decline while Karl reached the zenith of his power.
She had believed vengeance would never come.
How wrong she had been. The Emperor's return had transformed inevitable defeat into crushing victory with the ease of breathing.
The Nether World's defenders, subordinates cultivated by Karl over millennia, supplemented by Hua Ye's refugees, represented a force capable of conquering any known civilization.
In the cosmic hierarchy, they ranked among the highest tiers of power.
Such strength crumbled like sand castles before the Emperor's presence. Not through weakness on their part, but through the simple, crushing reality of encountering something beyond all comprehension.
"Our business remains unfinished, Hua Ye!"
Han Sen's wings carried him in pursuit of the fleeing tyrant. Upon seeing his approach, Hua Ye's face drained of color, and he fled deeper into the Nether World's twisted landscape.
As he ran, his eyes desperately searched for any sign of the Emperor.
"My lord will not interfere," Han Sen called after him. "This is between us alone. Face me like a warrior, Hua Ye, if such courage still exists within you."
Only after confirming the Emperor's absence did Hua Ye dare halt his flight. When he turned to face Han Sen, his customary arrogance had returned.
"You pathetic worm!" he snarled. "You still dare seek death! Were it not for that bastard's protection, I would have torn you into eighteen pieces long ago!"
"Would you?" Han Sen's response carried deadly calm. "Here is your chance. Let us discover who shall be dismembered."
"Killing you is as simple as crushing an insect," Hua Ye declared, his wings spreading wide as he activated the upgraded Black Hole Engine.
His form became living shadow, pushing a sphere of absolute darkness toward his opponent.
"Then die," Han Sen whispered, and brought his hands together in a thunderous clap.
Reality collapsed around Hua Ye. The very fabric of space-time flattened into two dimensions, dragging everything within its influence into impossible geometry.
The black hole in Hua Ye's grasp sagged and warped like melting matter, becoming a drawing without depth or substance.
"How did you master this power?!" Fear cracked Hua Ye's voice as he comprehended his doom.
He attempted flight, but escape from two-dimensional collapse required light-speed, a threshold beyond even his enhanced capabilities.
Wormhole generation proved impossible; the fundamental structure of flattened space-time rejected such manipulation.
Hua Ye watched in mounting horror as dimensional forces dragged him inexorably downward. His three-dimensional form compressed and distorted until he became a twisted abstract painting floating in the void.
"It is finished," Han Sen observed with clinical detachment. A casual gesture shattered the grotesque artwork into component fragments.
When dimensional stability returned and space resumed its proper configuration, Hua Ye existed only as unrecognizable debris.
Two-dimensional collapse had unmade him at the fundamental level, a destruction so complete that even a Fifth Generation Divine Body could not regenerate from such absolute dissolution.
Meanwhile
The Emperor and Karl faced each other across the threshold of the Nether Palace, two titans of vastly different philosophies preparing for final resolution.
"Your wisdom indeed surpasses that of primitive minds," Karl acknowledged with scholarly calm.
"We could have joined forces to welcome the Void Era together. Do you not see the fundamental flaws inherent in main-universe creatures? They are destined never to comprehend cosmic truth, destined for destruction when the ultimate fear arrives."
"I am well aware of creation's limitations," the Emperor replied, His voice carrying the weight of ten thousand years' experience.
"But I am even more cognizant of the hunger that drives your so-called void entities. I warned you once, Karl, these creatures are not the salvation you imagine them to be."
"I have no intention of debating philosophy with you," Karl responded. "Time itself will validate my theories."
"Stubborn to the end," the Master of Mankind observed with something approaching pity. "But such matters are irrelevant. Today, everything concludes."
"You believe you can destroy me?" Karl asked, genuine curiosity coloring his spectral features.
"If we don't kill you, are we supposed to keep you around to eat my fries and ketchup or what?" Raven interjected suddenly, materializing with characteristic irreverence.
Karl's expression registered surprise at the talking corvid, but his composure quickly returned.
"You cannot kill me," he stated with absolute certainty. "No force within the material universe possesses the means to truly destroy my existence. How does one kill that which is already dead?"
"In the eternal march of eons," Raven replied, its voice carrying echoes of cosmic truth, "even death itself shall perish. Embrace true oblivion, fool."
The Emperor's hand moved to a weapon that had never been drawn in this reality, a blade that had tasted the blood of gods and the essence of nightmares.
Golden fire wreathed the metal as it cleared its sheath, and the very air seemed to recoil from its presence.
Terror gripped Karl's immortal consciousness. From some impossible distance, he heard voices, countless, mournful, crying out in languages that predated civilization itself. Three words echoed through the cacophony, spoken in unison by the damned:
'Curse.'
'End.'
'Calamity.'
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