The transition was not a mere shift in coordinates; it was a violent, absolute severance from the tapestry of known existence. The dimension of the masked man, with its fracturing rifts and dying atmosphere, was left behind in a heartbeat of conceptual displacement. We moved through the layers of the multiverse, bypassing clusters of galaxies and webs of reality that blurred into a singular, indistinct streak of existence.
As we left and teleported to 100 trillion universes away from the masked man's dimension, the sheer scale of the distance began to weigh upon my senses. It was a journey that bypassed the very limits of spatial logic, traversing a span of creation so vast that the concept of a "center" or a "home" ceased to have any meaning. The fabric of space-time rippled and tore behind us, unable to maintain its integrity against the velocity of our transit. We were moving into the furthest reaches of the outer dark, away from the warmth of any sun and the laws of any established world.
We arrived at a pitch black void universe.
The darkness here was absolute. It was not the simple absence of light found in the vacuum between stars; it was a primordial, hungry blackness that had never known the touch of a photon. There were no galaxies, no nebulae, and no cosmic background radiation to soften the hollow expanse. It was a universe of pure, unadulterated "nothingness," a vacuum so perfect it felt heavy against my skin. The void seemed to press inward, seeking to collapse the very essence of my being into its silent, frozen depths.
We stood still looking at each other.
The silence was a physical pressure, a vacuum that swallowed even the sound of my own heartbeat. Across the expanse of the broken dark, Sagha stood as a silhouette of deeper shadow, his presence a jagged tear in the perfection of the void. My vision, honed by my status and the weight of my power, tracked the microscopic fluctuations in the energy he radiated. I did not need an enhanced state to perceive the threat; my eyes saw the truth of the space between us, the way the "nothingness" recoiled from his very existence.
We were two entities that stood above the laws of physics, meeting in a place where those laws were non-existent. The tension was a living thing, a coiled spring of lethal intent that vibrated through the dark. I could feel the cold precision of my own mana, a steady, unyielding current that prepared for the inevitable.
I did not wait for the silence to break on its own.
I snapped my fingers.
The gesture was sharp, a singular point of focus in the hollow universe. It was not the sound that mattered, but the command I issued to the reality around us.
Suddenly the space between us cracked.
A jagged, white fissure erupted in the center of the void, a lightning bolt of pure structural failure that tore through the conceptual framework of the universe. The "nothingness" was forced to give way to the pressure of my intent, the crack spreading with a speed that defied measurement. It spider-webbed across the empty space, illuminating the darkness with the cold, pale light of a reality being split asunder. The structural integrity of the local space-time was compromised, creating a turbulent corridor of jagged energy that bridged the distance between us.
He dashed forward.
Sagha moved with a speed that bypassed the need for momentum. He did not travel; he simply ceased to be at one point and manifested at another. He broke through the fractured space, his form a blur of dark, violent kinetic energy. The vacuum screamed as he displaced the volume of the void, the pressure of his movement creating a vortex that pulled the shattered fragments of the crack toward him.
And punched me.
The strike was a concentrated explosion of force. His fist aimed for my core, carrying the weight of a dying star. I watched it move with my vision, seeing the way the air—if there had been any—would have turned to plasma. It was a strike intended to end the confrontation in a single, crushing moment, a collision of raw power and absolute will.
But I just kicked him.
I did not retreat, and I did not flinch. I pivoted on the invisible axis of the void, my leg swinging in a blur of kinetic energy that met his momentum head-on. My foot caught him in the midsection just as his fist made contact with the outer layer of my defensive aura. The collision was a detonation of pure force, a shockwave that rippled out through the void for light-years in every direction. The sound was a dull, heavy thud that resonated in the very foundations of my being.
The impact sent him skidding back across the broken space, his silhouette carving a path through the white fissures I had created. But I did not give him a heartbeat to recover.
And I blasted him with anti-matter.
I raised my palm, and from the center of my hand, I unleashed a stream of pure annihilation. It was not a beam of light, but a streak of light-swallowing grey energy—the total negation of existence. The anti-matter hissed through the vacuum, turning the "nothingness" into a searing trail of subatomic fire as it sought to unmake everything it touched. It was a weapon of absolute deletion, designed to erase the very matter and spirit of the target.
He deflected it.
Sagha did not dodge. He did not teleport away. He raised his hand, his fingers curling as he caught the leading edge of the anti-matter stream. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected the energy of the annihilation, sending the grey beam careening off into the distant dark where it eventually flickered out against the horizon of the void. His movements were fluid, marked by a terrifying level of control that matched my own.
And he blasted me with black hole beam.
The retaliation was instantaneous. Sagha thrust his arm forward, and a swirling, indigo-black sphere of infinite density manifested at the tips of his fingers. It did not fire in a conventional sense; it dragged the surrounding space into itself, creating a ribbon of gravitational force so intense that it warped the pale light of the cracks behind me. The beam was a localized singularity, a hungry, crushing weight that sought to compress my entire existence into a single, infinitesimal point of non-existence.
I deflected it.
I did not move from my position. I swiped my hand across the path of the approaching singularity, my mana acting as a polarized shield that caught the gravitational edge. I felt the pull—the desperate, crushing hunger of the black hole—but I forced it aside with a surge of my own power. The beam veered off-course, spiraling into the darkness behind me where it collapsed into a harmless spark of indigo dust.
The exchange left us standing once more in the center of the broken universe, the space between us still crackling with the remnants of our respective powers. The void was no longer silent; it hummed with the frequency of our clashing wills.
He laughed.
The sound was a chilling resonance that filled the hollow universe. It was a laugh of recognition, a mocking sound that carried the weight of someone who had seen the beginning and end of many things. He stood there, his frame relaxed despite the violence we had just exchanged, his presence radiating an aura of monstrous confidence.
And suddenly said, "As always, the First Candidate To Be A God is powerful."
The statement hung in the air, a cold acknowledgment of my status. His voice carried a weight of familiarity, a cadence that vibrated through the cracks in the universe. I looked at him, my vision narrowing as I processed the tone and the way he occupied the space. The title he used was one that few were permitted to speak, yet he uttered it with the ease of a peer.
The tension snapped again, more violently this time.
I dashed forward.
I did not use a beam or a crack. I used the raw, unadulterated speed of my physical form. I vanished from my position, crossing the void in the space between heartbeats. The vacuum groaned as I broke every known limit of movement, my form becoming a spear of intent aimed at the heart of the shadow.
And grabbed him by his collar.
My hand slammed into the fabric of his garment, my fingers curling around the material with a grip that could crush obsidian. We were chest-to-chest, the heat of our respective auras clashing in a series of violent, microscopic detonations. I stared directly into the darkness where his face should be, my vision piercing through the gloom.
And I realized something. A mask and that voice.....the name Sagha..,
The proximity allowed me to see the fine details that the distance of the void had obscured. The mask was a specific configuration of shadow and lines, and the voice—now that it was inches from my face—triggered a series of cold recognitions within my mind. It was a realization that cut through the battle-trance, a moment of clarity that defined the true nature of my opponent. I knew that mask. I knew that tone.
I blasted him.
I did not release the collar. I channeled a localized burst of energy directly from my palm into his chest, the force of the explosion throwing us both backward in opposite directions. We tumbled through the broken space, the white cracks providing a flickering strobe-light for our descent. I righted myself in the air, my feet finding purchase on the invisible floor of the void.
And I asked, "Are you that Sagha?? the One Who Attempted To Kill The Gods?.... The God Breaker Sagha...."
My voice was a cold, demanding edge that cut through the silence of the pitch-black universe. I watched him through the haze of the energy I had just unleashed, my mana flaring in a jagged, protective aura. The name felt heavy in the vacuum, a title that carried the weight of ultimate heresy and the memory of a conflict that had shaken the heavens.
Suddenly he laughed.
It was a louder, more manic sound than before. It echoed off the edges of the universe, a mocking confirmation that needed no further words. He stood tall in the darkness, his silhouette expanding as his power began to shift and evolve. The amusement in his voice was a physical pressure, a testament to the fact that he was no longer hiding his identity behind the mask of anonymity.
And suddenly he blasted me with Fire magic.
The darkness of the void was instantly incinerated. A wall of roaring, crimson flames erupted from his position, a sea of heat so intense it began to melt the floating shards of the space-time cracks. It was not ordinary fire; it was a conceptual blaze that fed on the vacuum itself, turning the "nothingness" into a fuel for its destruction. The wall of fire rushed toward me, turning the black universe into a furnace of blinding, white-hot light.
I raised my hands to parry the heat, my vision tracking the heart of the blaze, but he was not finished.
And after that he merged black hole magic with fire magic.
The atmosphere of the void changed. The crimson flames began to swirl, drawing inward as a core of indigo-black gravity manifested at the center of the blaze. The two opposing forces—the expansive, consuming heat of the fire and the contractive, crushing pull of the black hole—combined into a terrifying, unstable hybrid. The flames turned a deep, bruised violet, flickering with sparks of infinite density. It was a vortex of gravitational heat, a weapon designed to burn and crush simultaneously on a level that bypassed conventional defense.
Suddenly he teleported.
He vanished from my sight, his presence disappearing from the local reality with a sharp, instantaneous snap. My vision searched the void, but he had moved beyond the reach of conventional tracking, slipping through the dimensions to find a blind spot in my guard.
And blasted me with it.
He reappeared directly behind me, the merged magic already unleashed. The violet-black vortex was inches from my back, the heat peeling away my defensive aura and the gravity seeking to snap the very concept of my physical form. It was a point-blank execution, a strike delivered with the surgical precision of a master of the dark arts.
I did not turn around. I did not flinch.
I deleted the concept of it hitting me.
I reached into the fundamental logic of the universe. I did not block the attack, and I did not dodge it. I simply removed the possibility of the collision from the framework of reality. I targeted the very "concept" of the strike connecting with my form and erased it from the list of things that could happen.
And the blast passed me.
The terrifying vortex of fire and gravity screamed as it passed directly through the space I occupied. It did not hit a shield; it simply acted as if I were not there. The violet flames and the indigo core continued their trajectory, sailing harmlessly into the depths of the void where they eventually detonated in a silent, massive explosion that illuminated the distant rifts of the universe.
I turned to face him, my expression unmoved, my vision locked onto his form. The white cracks in the space between us were now glowing with a feverish intensity, and the pitch-black void was a kaleidoscope of fire and shadow.
We kept exchanging blasts.
The fight transitioned into a high-speed, long-range bombardment that turned the void into a graveyard of energy. We blurred through the universe, our movements too fast for any lesser being to track.
I fired a barrage of anti-matter pulses, each one a grey streak of annihilation that carved tunnels through the "nothingness." Sagha countered with ribbons of black hole energy, the singularities catching my pulses and collapsing them into harmless dust. He retaliated with waves of the merged fire and gravity magic, the violet-black flames turning the void into a churning sea of heat.
I answered with more anti-matter, weaving the beams into a complex web of destruction that forced him to teleport repeatedly. Each time he reappeared, he launched a new black hole beam or a concentrated burst of fire, the energy clashing in the center of the broken space.
BOOM. CRACK. HISS.
The sounds of our battle were the only things defining the universe. Every exchange of blasts created new cracks in the fabric of space, and every collision of our powers sent ripples through the 100 trillion universes we had left behind. We moved like twin comets of destruction, our auras clashing and recoiling in a rhythmic, violent sync.
Anti-matter met black hole gravity.
Fire magic met the deletion of concepts.
The First Candidate To Be A God met the God Breaker.
The pitch-black universe was no longer empty. It was filled with the debris of our struggle—fragments of space, remnants of fire, and the fading echoes of our power. We circled each other in the darkness, our hands moving in a blur of gestures as we channeled the fundamental forces of existence against one another.
The heat of the fire was a constant, searing presence, and the pull of the black holes was a steady, rhythmic tug on my spirit. Yet, I stood firm, my vision guiding every strike and every defense. I fired another blast of anti-matter, the grey light cutting a path through the violet flames. Sagha laughed again, his voice ringing through the cracks, as he summoned another vortex of merged magic.
We were two titans in a void that had been silent for eons, fighting a battle that had no witnesses and no end in sight. The exchange of blasts continued, a relentless cycle of attack and defense that pushed the limits of our endurance and the stability of the universe itself.
I felt my vision refining the timing of his teleportations, my mana adjusting to the frequency of his merged magic. I fired a concentrated stream of anti-matter, targeting the core of his next black hole beam. The two forces met in a blinding flash of grey and indigo, the resulting explosion clearing a massive circle of "nothingness" around us for light-years.
Sagha did not pause. He teleported again, appearing above me with a sphere of fire magic already in his hand, the flames roaring with the weight of the black hole core. I looked up, my hand already rising to meet him, my intent as sharp as the cracks in the sky.
The exchange of blasts roared on, a symphony of annihilation in the heart of the void. We were locked in a dance of lethal intent, two entities who had surpassed the limitations of mortality, carving our names into the silence of a pitch-black universe 100 trillion universes away from where the struggle had begun.
Every blast was a statement. Every deflection was a challenge. And as we kept exchanging the fundamental forces of fire, gravity, and anti-matter, the cracks in the universe began to bleed a new, strange light—a sign that the battle was only just beginning to reach its true potential.
I fired again. He responded in kind. The void was ours.