The void battlefield twisted beneath Dreadmar's presence. Every breath felt like inhaling oblivion. Shadows coiled in the air like serpents made of ink and hatred. Harun stood alone — not trembling from fear, but from the chaos inside him. His heartbeat echoed like war drums in his ears. His soul… fractured. But not broken.
Kael'Thar stood to the left, obsidian armor cracked and sizzling with molten energy. Dreadmar, a living distortion, towered on the right — a figure not made of flesh, but of warped dimensions. Space bent around his limbs. Time wept near his eyes.
Two nightmares.
One soul holding his ground.
Harun gritted his teeth. "I… won't fall here."
Inside his mind, the voice — ancient, coiled, waiting — whispered once more:
> "Unleash it. Not full power… but enough to show them you are MY vessel."
His aura flickered violently — from black to deep violet. The air hissed. The ground beneath cracked, not in lines, but in perfect concentric circles, as if the world were trying to mark the moment. Shadows lifted from the cracks like flames defying gravity.
Harun raised one trembling hand behind him — and space tore open. A massive spectral arm emerged from his back, carved with glowing runes and burning in void-light. The heat was not warmth — it was memory decay, the sear of forgotten timelines.
Kael'Thar stepped back, eyes wide. "No… what is he—?!"
Dreadmar's empty gaze narrowed. "Abyssal…"
> "Meteor…"
The stars above twisted, dragged into motion like helpless puppets orbiting Harun's rising force.
> "PUNCH!!"
Harun vanished.
A blink.
Midair.
Time paused for a frame.
And then—
Impact.
The spectral fist didn't strike Dreadmar — it veered, crushing Kael'Thar instead, as if fate decided his arrogance needed silencing. The blow hit with planet-shattering force. Kael'Thar's body screamed through space, slammed into the void ground, and detonated a crater 200 meters deep. Shockwaves rippled across dimensions. Mountains shattered on distant worlds.
Silence.
Even Dreadmar blinked.
> "That attack…"
"You really are... something ancient reborn."
Harun collapsed to one knee, breath hitching. The spectral runes faded. His bones felt cracked. But he was alive.
The voice inside whispered:
> "That… was only 9%."
---
But Dreadmar stepped forward.
Each footfall warped space. Bent time. The sky bled black.
> "Kael'Thar was just a pawn."
"I am the darkness that sleeps beneath creation."
"I am entropy."
Around them, reality unstitched. Light inverted. Buildings, mountains, clouds — they dissolved. Even hope seemed to evaporate.
Harun gasped. He could no longer see the sun — only a swirling hurricane of void energy overhead.
Dreadmar raised his arms.
Thousands of black chains crashed down from the heavens, tearing holes in space, dragging out nightmare beasts — creatures with no shape, no name, born only to erase.
Harun tried to move.
He couldn't.
The gravity pressure: 200 times normal. His muscles tore. Blood trickled from his eyes.
The voice whispered again:
> "You must survive. Don't fight. Not yet."
"Let him believe you're broken."
---
And so began the breaking.
Chains bound Harun's limbs. His mind was pulled inward. A mind-prison formed — a cage made not of bars, but of memories.
There she was.
His mother.
Zoya — crying in the rain, blood on her hands.
Leena — dying, again and again, each time reaching for him and failing to hold on.
"Stop it…" Harun whispered.
But it didn't stop.
He saw his village burning. His friends consumed by voidfire. His own reflection — laughing at him.
He screamed.
---
Time passed strangely in the prison. Hours? Days?
Each second carved something out of him.
Until…
Dreadmar's voice echoed in the false skies of the mind-cage:
> "You have nothing left, Harun."
---
Harun's hands trembled.
But then—
A flicker.
White light.
He clenched his fists. Stood.
His eyes glowed with ancient white flame.
> "You're wrong."
"I haven't even started fighting."
---
Silence fell over the void.
And then—
BOOM.
His aura erupted like a volcano of abyssal fire. The ground broke apart. The void winds screamed. His Dravillian Stone, known as Abyssal Dominion, began to fracture — not from breaking, but from evolution.
The inner spirit, calm and powerful, said:
> "Permission granted. 12% unleashed."
Harun's hair rose in a stormwind.
His arms now wrapped in pure abyssal flame — shaped like twin dragon heads, jaws coiled around his forearms.
Behind him, a colossal phantom godform emerged — three-eyed, cloaked in shadow, watching the battlefield.
Dreadmar stumbled. Just one step.
Fear.
He felt fear.
Harun took a step forward.
The very laws of motion bent to make room for him.
> "This ends now."
---
The clash began.
At the speed of light.
Fists met tentacles.
Time reversed.
Space tore like paper.
Harun dodged, dipped, weaved. His Abyssal Meteor Punch launched twice, back to back, slamming into Dreadmar's chest and shoulder. Tentacles lashed — but missed, as time itself looped to undo Harun's mistake.
Dreadmar roared. Reality shattered around him.
> "I AM INEVITABLE!"
Harun spun.
The ground split.
He lifted both hands — forming a sphere of collapsing light and shadow.
> "Final permission: granted."
"Ultimate Art: Abyssal Collapse Drive."
---
The world held its breath.
Harun launched forward, godform trailing him like a celestial comet.
The punch struck Dreadmar's chest.
And it didn't stop there.
It struck through his being — tearing through space, memory, existence. Dreadmar screamed — not in pain, but in terror.
> "NO. I WAS MEANT TO RETURN. I AM—"
"FORGOTTEN…"
And like ash, smoke, and silence…
Dreadmar disintegrated — erased from time, space, even thought.
No record.
No echo.
Only Harun remained.
Kneeling.
Breathing hard.
Bleeding.
But alive.
> Inner Spirit (softly): "That was 12%."
Harun smiled faintly. "Then let them come."
....
...!!!