Upon the choices given to him, none were safe.
Death — he did not want to die.
Suffering — he could not bear it again.
So Shita chose neither.
He would forge a different path — one of his own making.
Biting down on his lip, he forced pain through his paralyzed body. The sting jolted him awake, breaking the nightmare's hold. Muscles trembling, he staggered to his feet and ran. That was all he could do now — run.
Each breath burned in his throat, his vision blurring from exhaustion. Somehow, he had escaped the deity's grasp. Ducking into an abandoned building, he collapsed against a cold wall, gasping. The silence didn't last.
A shriek pierced the night.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, dozens echoed from the shadows — until glowing lights flickered around him. They weren't lights. They were heads, each bearing the same crimson-eyed face as the Nightmare Deity.
Chains of darkness shot forward, binding his limbs in an X-shaped restraint. Shita's heartbeat roared in his ears as the Nightmare approached, its countless eyes turning in unison.
> "I gave you two choices," it said, voice hollow as wind through a tomb. "You refused them both. Now you'll taste both."
The deity's clawed hand wrapped around Shita's neck. It raised its other arm — ready to cut him open — when a sudden voice sliced through the silence.
> "Would you be so kind," the voice asked calmly, "as to leave my successor alone?"
The Nightmare turned. "And who might you be?"
> "Just a nobody."
The air shattered.
Sound broke.
Two beings moved faster than thought.
Their clash split the ground — fists, kicks, and shockwaves echoing like thunder. The intruder — Jaze — fought with the precision of a seasoned god-slayer. He caught the deity by its horns and hurled it through the building's wall. Before it could recover, lightning surged from his hands — enough to annihilate a city — and struck the deity dead on.
When the smoke cleared, the Nightmare stood unscathed.
Jaze sighed. "Ah, so that's it. Physical attacks don't work on you. Great. You're one of those types."
The air trembled.
> "Creepy Type Two — Coffin of Nightmare," the deity hissed.
From the heavens, graves rained down. Each tomb split open, spilling forth corpses that moved like marionettes. Their touch could distort a man's very being.
Jaze leapt between them, fire arrows bursting from his hands. The sky turned red — the moon, bloodstained. Above, countless eyes opened across the heavens, gazing down to warp his soul.
> "I need to end this quickly," Jaze muttered, dodging a dozen claws. He slid beneath one corpse's legs, vines sprouting from the ground to ensnare others. Poison flowed through them — they decayed instantly.
But the Nightmare itself was gone. The air warped.
> "Creepy Technique — Abyss."
Darkness swallowed everything.
The world vanished.
Jaze found himself in a dimension of endless void — no sound, no color, no shape. Just nothingness.
> "Hey," he called into the darkness, "is this your dimension?"
"Indeed," came the deity's whisper. "The Nothingness Realm. Here, you are meant to become nothing."
"Well," Jaze said, cracking his knuckles, "I'm still something. Guess it's incomplete."
> "I sacrificed my lifespan to create this place. It will be your grave."
"Maybe. But playtime's over."
The air fractured. Space itself buckled. Miniature black holes spun into existence around the deity — each humming with catastrophic energy. The void collapsed inward, devoured by its own gravity.
"Physical force may not harm you," Jaze said, his eyes glowing white, "but this isn't physical."
"Soul Technique — Soul Amalgamation."
Light pierced the darkness. The Nightmare screamed — its form breaking into fragments, then dots of dust, and finally, nothing.
Silence returned.
The dimension imploded, spitting Jaze back into the world. He exhaled and looked toward the abandoned building.
"I wonder what excuse Shita will come up with this time," he said softly, almost smiling.
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