The cosmos trembled as Seraph's burning form descended, her six radiant wings casting an unholy glow across the battlefield. Before her, Iskander staggered, his form fraying at the edges, the void itself recoiling from his wounds. His essence, once limitless, now flickered like a dying star.
His breathing was ragged, his limbs weighed down by the wounds Seraph had inflicted. He had fought with a power that could shatter galaxies, yet she had matched him, blow for blow, radiance against abyss, divinity against oblivion. And now, the scales had tipped.
Seraph hovered before him, golden flames rippling across her body, her blindfold flickering like a living inferno. The countless golden eyes across her wings gazed upon him, seeing through his essence, unraveling every thread of his existence.
Iskander gritted his teeth, his fist clenching. "You think you've won?" His voice was strained, yet it still carried the weight of an entity beyond mortal comprehension. "Light cannot exist without darkness. You cannot destroy me without unraveling yourself."
Seraph tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable beneath the burning blindfold.
"You are mistaken," she whispered, her voice a choir of celestial echoes. "There was never balance. Only light... and the illusion that darkness could ever stand against it."
Her wings flared outward. A pulse of energy erupted from her body, not merely light but something more—something that burned through the very concept of shadows. The void twisted. The stars convulsed. The cosmos screamed as she raised her hand.
A luminous sphere materialized in her palm—pure, concentrated existence, a power that denied the absence of form, of substance. It was not merely light, It was the absolute erasure of void.
Iskander's body quivered. He took a step back. For the first time, a flicker of fear passed through his silver eyes.
"You—"
Seraph's arm swung downward. The sphere expanded, consuming all in its path.
There was no explosion. No sound. No resistance.
Iskander ceased to be.
His form crumbled into light, dissolving like dust swept away by a divine hand. His presence, his essence, his existence—unmade in an instant. The last remnants of him faded into nothingness, leaving behind only the silence of a universe that no longer remembered him.
Seraph exhaled softly, lowering her hand. Her wings folded behind her as she turned. Knox still fought. He had held his ground three of the Five, but even with his newfound power, the battle was not yet over.
She vanished, streaking through the void like a burning comet.
Draeven's blade carved through the vacuum of space, slicing toward Knox's throat. Knox barely tilted his head in time, the blade missing him by mere inches. At the same moment, Vaelith surged from behind, his movements silent as death, a blade of condensed entropy forming in his grasp.
Knox twisted, catching the attack with both hands, his muscles screaming under the strain. The force behind the strike sent shockwaves rippling across the cosmos, shattering a nearby moon into dust.
Before he could counter, a searing beam of golden energy crashed into Vaelith, sending him hurtling through the void. The force of the blast warped space itself, creating spirals of molten stardust in its wake.
Knox turned to see Seraph floating beside him, her form a radiant storm of divine fury.
"Hope you don't mind if I step in," she said, her voice calm yet brimming with terrifying authority.
Knox wiped blood from his lips, his expression hard. "Not at all. Let's end this."
Together, they surged forward, a tidal wave of destruction crashing against Draeven and Vaelith. The battle reignited, more furious than ever, but the tide had turned. Knox and Seraph fought as one—light and fire, destruction and divinity.
Draeven's blade shattered against Knox's heat vision.
Vaelith's form disintegrated beneath Seraph's burning touch.
With a final, deafening pulse of energy, Draeven and Vaelith were no more.
And then... silence.
The battlefield was empty now.
Only one of the Five remained.
Nyxara stood alone. She had not intervened, had not lifted a hand against them. She simply watched.
And then, she smiled.
"You two are strong," she said, her voice smooth, unwavering. I'll give you that. But you, Knox..."
Her gaze locked onto him, something unreadable in her expression.
"You are even stronger," she murmured. "Your system... it is beyond me." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But that's not possible. Unless..."
Her breath hitched. A flicker of realization danced across her face.
"No," she whispered, her voice almost too quiet to hear. "No... it cannot be. The Creator—"
She took a step back. Then another.
And then, she laughed.
A slow, quiet chuckle that sent tremors through reality itself.
"Ah," she sighed, shaking her head. "So this is how it ends, then?"
The laughter faded. Her expression shifted.
And then... she changed.
It was not a transformation. Not in the way mortals or even gods understood.
One moment, she was there.
The next, she was beyond.
Beyond sight. Beyond thought. Beyond existence.
The fabric of reality rippled around her, unable to contain what she had become. The concept of her form twisted, expanded, shattered, and reformed—an endless cascade of infinite beauty and terror.
She was light and darkness, form and formlessness.
She was the memory of creation, the silence of oblivion.
A crown of shifting stars adorned her head, each one a dying universe given final purpose.
Her body was an ever-changing canvas, painted with the colors of realities yet to be born.
Her wings were not wings but the very hands of fate, weaving destiny itself with each slow, measured movement.
Her presence alone distorted time, bending history forward and backward as if past and future were mere suggestions.
And her voice—when it came—was not heard. It was known.
"Long live the infinite Sovereign."
Her words echoed through the cosmos, reshaping the very laws of existence.
And then... she smiled.
But there was no warmth in it.
Only the quiet certainty of something had just begun.