Chapter 11
"SUCH INSOLENCE... KNEEL."
The words left the fake Vastro’s mouth, and the air itself seed to bend. Pressure magnified infinitely, crashing down until Vastro slamd hard into the ground, cracking the very structure beneath him.
He gritted his teeth, a flicker of amusent stirring. The bastards treated him exactly how he would have reacted if soone had barged into his throne room.
The fake Vastro’s blazing blue eyes locked onto him. "Who are you? Why do you look like ? Which foolish usurper is confident enough to pull this stunt?"
His voice was calm, but the aura radiating from him was beyond anything the current Vastro could contain without feeling a rupture in his mind.
For the first ti, he felt that death could co before the battle even began.
The fake Vastro’s gaze was nonchalant. "Choose. Death Or ... be erased.... your choice."
Vastro chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation.
He didn’t know the full capabilities of Hell, but replicating himself to this level was nothing short of astounding.
Yet Vastro wasn’t one to cower before power.... not even his forr self.
A manic grin spread across his face as he forced his gaze upward.
"That won’t be necessary," he said, voice low, dangerous. "I’m here to challenge you to the eternal conquest."
The fake Vastro’s expression didn’t change, though his finger twitched. Sothing was off.... but the audacity of this weak being daring to challenge him was... amusing.
Laughable even. There was no way he would win.
And yet, if this Vastro before him wielded even a shred of his real power, the fight wouldn’t be boring.
With that thought, Vastro decided to have so fun.
"Your challenge is accepted."
Minutes later, both Vastros stood on a vast arena, their eyes locked. The original Vastro spoke first:
"First rule of this unique eternal conquest....
you cannot use your conceptual powers against a weakened . My powers are sealed, my state reduced. This keeps the fight fair.".
The fake Vastro tilted his head, a flicker of confusion passing over his features. Rules set by a weaker being? He was amused but not surprised.
A weak duplicate was ant only for entertainnt. He nodded, beckoning the real Vastro to give everything he had.
Vastro returned the nod. Then, in a flash, he was gone.
Next mont, his hand was sliding toward the fake one’s neck. Mid-swing, the Blade of Oblivion appeared in his grip. He struck hard... but the blade passed as if through soft cotton. No cut, no damage.
Vastro’s brows tightened.
He twisted just in ti to avoid the spatial distortion rippling where he had been. Pivoting, he manipulated gravity itself to move again, his sword thrusting toward the fake’s face.
Before it could make contact, chaos energy erupted outward from Vastro’s body, engulfing the blade and making it far deadlier than before.
Vastro had intentionally set the battle conditions to maximize his chance of winning. Every move, every strike, calculated to force the odds in his favor.
The sword hit with a slick, sharp force, and the very fabric of existence seed to shatter under the impact.
Vastro smiled.
He had won.... or so he thought. But what awaited him wasn’t the bloodied, broken fake Vastro he expected.
No, what stood before him was that sa maddeningly infuriating Vastro, almost untouched. A single thin slash traced along the cheek, barely noticeable.
He snorted, voice cold as ice. "I knew it... a fake can never wield the might of the true Vastro." Blue eyes blazing with restrained anger, he grinned, mirroring the original perfectly.
"Since you’ve managed to anger ," he smirked devilishly, "I’ll grant you a favor."
A tinge of green energy spiraled outward, stretching as far as eyes... or senses... could perceive.
Vastro’s mind raced. He had underestimated the sheer omnipotence of his true self, with or without conceptual powers.
The fake Vastro’s hand wrapped around the original’s neck. He grinned. "I’ll give you a chance of ten. One is already wasted."
Inferno roared to life inside Vastro, burning him alive, shredding him from the inside out. Agony unlike any he had known. And then—he died.
It seed over. Until he found himself once more before the fake Vastro. Words already forming on his lips: "I challenge you to eternal conquest."
The fake Vastro leaned back on his throne, warm smile unchanged. "I accept your challenge... the battle begins again."
Vastro slamd into a towering purple barrier, his insides rocking violently with the impact. No matter how he fought, no matter what he attempted, it was still not enough.
The peak power of his doppelganger was beyond comprehension. The fact that so many beings had fallen to him before seed almost unbelievable.
"Your second chance is waning," the fake Vastro said calmly, stepping forward like a predator savoring the kill.
But there was no malice in his face... only disappointnt.
Vastro looked up from his knees, blood dripping from his face. "You lunatic... just let kill you. I’m the original."
But that was all he could say. His head was crushed seamlessly under the fake Vastro’s hands. He died again.
And then, once more, he found himself standing before the throne. Words left his lips: "I challenge you to eternal conquest."
The fake Vastro leaned forward and smiled warmly. "I accept your challenge."
It finally clicked. A strange sense of déjà vu snapped into clarity.
The fake Vastro had been using the law of ti.... looping the battle endlessly, breaking Vastro over and over, playing with his very being until he was fractured.
Vastro’s face hardened, yet his smile remained. You bastard, he thought.
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Vastro slamd hard into the ground. A few ters away lay the Blade of Oblivion, shattered and warped beyond asure.
Around him were countless torn-apart bodies of Vastro, piled like discarded failures. And yet he was still in one piece.
Not because he was winning.
Because he kept regenerating. Again. And again.
Until his endless reserves of energy were slowly being drained dry.
Footsteps reached his ears.
Vastro looked up just in ti to et the gaze of the fake Vastro. The disappointnt on his face was worse than before.
An abyssal sphere began to swirl in his palm, compressing into a dense, violent ball. When he spoke, his voice carried anger and disgust.
"You have six chances left."
The sphere dropped.
It swallowed Vastro whole.
The pain was agonizing. It felt like eternity, stretched thin and cruel. And at the sa ti, it lasted less than a second.
When it ended, Vastro was standing once more before the Abyssal Eternity Throne.
The words spilled from his mouth automatically, without thought.
"I challenge you to eternal conquest."
The fake Vastro leaned forward on his seat, smile warm and unchanged.
"I accept your challenge."
Vastro felt sothing crack inside him. He almost laughed.
Almost cried.
"Co on," he cursed. "Can’t you give a break?"
To be continued......
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