Chapter 251 — The Blow We Weren't Supposed to See
In the Realm of the Primordial Divinities—
The projections of the Creators,
Azarion
and Aetherion,
stood tall.
Facing them:
Yzareth,
wings spread, arms open, smile far too confident,
and the Nameless Ancient, already weary of this story.
Aetherion spoke first.
— We let ourselves get fooled too easily.
He turned his head slightly, already elsewhere.
— I'm going there.
— And I'm going to beat Kharas.
Yzareth spread his arms wide, wings trembling.
— Bad idea, dear Creator.
— Really bad.
He smiled.
— If you leave now…
— …I'll raze this place.
Silence.
The Nameless Ancient sighed.
— We can't let you intervene like that.
— It would ruin Kharas's entire plan.
Azarion observed them calmly.
— So your goal…
— is to keep us here?
Aetherion lifted his eyes toward them.
And the pressure fell.
Not an attack.
Not anger.
A presence.
Yzareth and the Ancient were crushed against the divine ground.
Aetherion spoke coldly:
— I haven't erased you.
— But you're skating dangerously close to my limits.
Yzareth slowly raised his head, still pinned to the ground.
— Do you have no trust…
— in your son, Zarion?
Azarion placed a hand on Aetherion's shoulder.
— Calm yourself.
— He's right.
She smiled faintly.
— Zarion can handle this.
— Without us.
Aetherion stayed silent for a moment.
Then sighed.
— Very well.
— I'll watch.
The Nameless Ancient murmured:
— That was suicidal.
Yzareth sneered.
— Pathetic.
— Proof you're not the Lord of Nothingness.
Meanwhile—
Inside the Infinite Palace.
In the vastness of the Primordial Void,
beyond time,
space,
stories,
probabilities,
rules,
and the rules of rules—
Silence.
Then—
Kharas vanished.
Not a teleportation.
Not a rupture.
An existential leap.
He was already before Zarion
before the Palace even realized
he had moved.
The strike came.
Simple.
Direct.
Without theatrics.
Kharas's knife struck—
And for the first time since the battle began,
Zarion blocked.
No sound.
But the Palace bent.
Not a decorative layer.
Not an illusion.
A major structure fractured.
The Primordial Attendants all felt the same thing.
— …He touched Zarion, murmured Astra.
Kharas leapt back, surprised.
He looked at his blade.
A clean fissure now ran through it.
— …Oh.
His smile widened.
— Alright.
— You can block.
Zarion slowly withdrew his hand.
A cut ran across his palm.
Not fatal.
But real.
Kharas licked the blood from the blade with a delighted grin.
The Palace tensed.
The rules screamed.
Laws tried to rewrite themselves.
Zarion raised his hand slightly.
Everything fell silent.
— One thing only, he said calmly.
— Don't do it again.
Kharas burst out laughing.
— There.
— That's what I wanted to see.
He spread his arms.
— You know what this means, don't you?
— That you've signed your death warrant, replied Zarion.
— No, corrected Kharas.
— That the Creators…
He smiled, predatory.
— …can now feel me through you.
— See you take damage…
— and be unable to act…
He laughed wildly.
— Hahahaha!
The Palace shuddered.
A foreign pressure brushed its foundations.
Not an arrival.
Not yet.
But a connection.
Nyx clenched her teeth.
— He used Zarion as an anchor point…
Kharas tilted his head.
— Thanks for the hospitality, Prince.
— The message is sent.
He reset his stance.
His posture had changed.
Lighter.
More serious.
Zarion stepped forward.
The ground yielded willingly beneath him,
forming a perfect arena.
— You wanted action, said Zarion.
— You'll have it.
His aura finally unfolded.
Just enough
for the Void itself
to hold its breath.
Kharas smiled, red eyes blazing.
— At last.
The Infinite Palace locked the battle.
This time,
there would be
no test,
no illusion,
no restraint.
The first true fight
had begun.
Chapter 252 — When Even the Void Understands This Will End Badly
The arena stabilized.
Not round.
Not beautiful.
Just sufficient.
The Infinite Palace had stopped thinking.
It had chosen a side.
The layers around Zarion and Kharas froze into a brutal space, bare, stripped of useless décor.
Even the Primordial Void seemed to hold its breath.
Kharas cracked his neck.
— Oh.
— An official arena.
— I feel honored.
Zarion did not answer.
His aura was there now.
Not crushing.
Not demonstrative.
Present.
Enough for every rule of the Palace to stand upright like a soldier caught in error.
Nyx stepped back.
— …This level…
— He's not joking anymore.
Kharas tilted his head, observing.
— Interesting.
— You know what?
— I'd almost forgotten what it looked like…
— someone who doesn't play.
He vanished.
No leap.
No rupture.
A pure erasure.
The Palace screamed a microsecond too late.
Kharas reappeared above Zarion, knife reversed, ready to pierce.
But Zarion had already moved.
The strike was blocked. Then a second. Then a third.
The impacts made no sound.
But each parry erased a possibility of existence around them.
— …Tch, muttered Kharas, retreating.
— You're reading my trajectories.
Zarion advanced. One step.
Space folded.
A second step. The ground fractured beneath Kharas before he could even dodge.
— Seriously? sneered Kharas.
— You're already forcing the arena to hinder me?
Zarion struck.
Not with a weapon.
Not with a technique.
With a decision.
The blow hit Kharas square in the chest.
He was hurled through three layers of the Palace, crashing violently against a stabilizing structure.
The Palace rumbled.
A secondary law collapsed permanently.
The Attendants all felt the same thing.
— A permanent loss, murmured Astra.
— He won't be able to repair that.
Kharas stayed still for a moment.
Then slowly rose, wiping the black blood from his mouth.
He burst out laughing.
— Hahahaha!
— There!
— It's been ages since I was sent flying like that!
He lifted his eyes, smile widening.
— You're striking for real now, Prince.
— I like this version of you.
Zarion fixed him with a stare.
— Don't get carried away.
— You're still alive only
— because I let you speak.
Kharas turned the knife slightly in his hand.
— Still arrogant.
— You know what's ironic?
He gestured to the Void around them.
— The more you hit me,
— the more you show the Creators
— that they've lost control.
A distant pressure brushed the arena.
Not an arrival.
But an insistent attention.
Nyx clenched her teeth.
— …They're watching.
Zarion answered without breaking his gaze.
— Let them watch.
He vanished in turn.
This time, it was Kharas who lagged behind.
The strike hit his flank.
Not deep.
But precise.
Kharas slid across the floor, braking with one hand, leaving a dark trace behind him.
He rose, breathing a little heavier.
— Heh…
— Alright.
His smile sharpened. More dangerous.
— Now we're in sync.
He raised his knife.
— No more tests.
— No more messages.
Zarion appeared before him.
— Perfect.
The Infinite Palace locked another layer.
This time, even the Creators could not intervene without breaking everything.
The Primordial Void vibrated faintly.
The battle had entered its true phase.
And neither of them intended to retreat.
Chapter 253 — When Blows Start to Get Expensive
Kharas raised his knife.
He made no wide gesture.
No charge.
No warning.
And yet—
Cuts appeared on Zarion's body.
Not deep.
Not fatal.
But sharp.
In the background, several infinite layers of the Palace were sliced at once, as if reality had realized too late it was included in the attack.
The Primordial Attendants froze.
— …He's cutting through Zarion and the Palace, murmured Astra.
— He's optimizing, growled Kharis.
— It annoys me, added Nyx.
Zarion lowered his eyes slightly toward the marks on his chest.
A silence.
Then—
He materialized a blade.
Not a normal weapon.
A fragment of condensed Primordial Void.
Unstable.
Silent.
Dangerous even for the Palace.
— You're pushing too far, he said calmly.
— And you're starting to succeed.
His aura unfolded.
Not explosive.
Not dramatic.
But heavy.
Enough for the arena to groan.
Enough for the Primordial Void to step back half an imaginary pace.
Kharas smiled.
— Oh?
— Finally bringing out something serious.
His aura wrapped around his knife.
Not like flame.
More like a malicious intent that had found a vessel.
— Let's see if it holds.
They vanished.
Not fleeing.
Not teleporting.
A collision becoming.
Their blades clashed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each impact erased several layers of the Palace.
Not destroyed.
Removed from the register of existence.
The Palace screamed in silence.
The rules tried to keep up.
Failed.
Tried again.
— …They're fighting inside the structure, gasped Thalassa.
— No, corrected Nyx.
— They're using it as a buffer.
Kharas attacked fast.
Too fast.
Each strike sought a blind spot.
Each feint targeted a law.
Zarion parried.
Advanced.
Forced.
One strike slipped through.
Zarion was hurled back across several conceptual kilometers.
He stabilized with a single step.
The arena rewrote itself around him at the last second.
Kharas appeared above him.
— Hahahaha!
— Admit it, Prince.
— You missed this a little, didn't you?
Zarion vanished.
He reappeared behind Kharas and struck.
This time, the blow pierced the aura.
It landed.
Kharas was hurled in turn, sliding across an unstable layer of the Palace before leaping back to stabilize.
He landed crouched.
Breathed.
Then rose slowly.
— …Okay.
— Now we're talking.
He wiped the black blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
Looked at the trace.
Smiled.
— I hope you weren't planning to stop.
— Because me…
— I'm only just warming up.
Zarion raised his blade.
His gaze was calm.
Too calm.
— Good.
— So am I.
The Infinite Palace trembled again.
This time, it was no longer trying to contain.
It was surviving.
And the battle had clearly moved to the next level.
Chapter 254 — When the Palace Stops Being Neutral
The Infinite Palace no longer repaired.
It observed.
It had understood one simple thing: if it tried to stay intact, it would be destroyed faster.
So it changed strategy.
The layers stopped overlapping at random.
Distances stopped lying.
Internal shortcuts slammed shut.
The battle was confined.
Kharas felt the change immediately.
— …Oh.
— It stopped playing at being décor.
He smiled, but his gaze sharpened.
— Interesting.
Zarion slowly raised his blade of Primordial Void.
Around it, the Void no longer fled.
It condensed.
As if awaiting a final order.
— You've played enough, Zarion said calmly.
— Now, every strike will matter.
Kharas tilted his head.
— Perfect.
— I was tired of hitting symbols.
He vanished.
This time, Zarion followed.
Not with his eyes.
With space itself.
They reappeared facing each other.
Blades crossed.
The shock bent an entire layer of the Palace.
Not destroyed.
Compressed.
Recycled as impact surface.
— Hahahaha! Kharas laughed.
— It's serving us as an arena now!
He pressed forward.
Zarion stepped back.
Not because he had to.
Because he calculated.
Kharas seized the moment.
His knife traced an impossible arc.
The air tore.
A rule gave way.
Zarion felt the impact slice across his flank.
A real cut.
Blood fell.
The Palace tensed.
— …He's bleeding again, murmured Astra.
— It's not serious, replied Nyx.
— What would be serious is if he didn't react.
Zarion lifted his head.
His aura shifted.
Not in intensity.
In intention.
— You're making too much noise, he said.
— And you still confuse speed with domination.
He vanished in turn.
Kharas sensed the danger half a second too late.
Zarion's blade passed.
A clean slice.
His shoulder flew.
Not torn.
Dissociated.
Kharas staggered back violently, reconstituting mid‑air.
He landed awkwardly, dropped to one knee.
— …Wow.
— Okay.
— Didn't see that one coming.
He rose slowly, still smiling, but now breathing harder.
— You're getting serious, Prince.
— At last.
Zarion advanced.
Each step made the Palace groan.
The rules repositioned around him.
As if they finally remembered who had written them.
— You wanted to prove this place could be broken, Zarion said.
— You did.
— Congratulations.
He raised his blade.
— Now…
— let's see how long you last
— without décor to protect you.
Kharas gripped his knife with both hands.
His aura thickened.
Darker.
More concentrated.
— Very well.
— No more gloves.
The Infinite Palace locked the last exits.
No more escape.
No more shortcuts.
No more games.
Only two entities.
Two wills.
And a space solid enough not to collapse immediately.
And for the first time since the beginning…
Even Kharas understood this fight was no longer going to unfold the way he had planned.