Dreadmarch surged forward, his divine body wrapped in roaring Zeten. His blade ford. And he struck.
Beasts collided.
Booms of godhood shattered the sky.
Their Zetens clashed like galaxies folding into each other. Each swing, each pulse of energy, echoed like the beginning of a new world. The battlefield cracked. The sky turned violet. Even the stars seed to shake.
Dreadmarch simply raised both arms, and a tidal wave of pure Zeten Neba collapsed from the heavens, smashing toward Dedany like a divine punishnt.
Dedany raised a single hand, and the wave split, not with force, but with authority.
Concept Erasure.
He whispered under his breath.
"Defense."
And Dreadmarch's barrier cracked.
Below, the once-invincible shield that protected the entire turtle flickered like a candle in a hurricane. The Zeten no longer obeyed the concept of "protection" it was just flowing aimlessly now.
But Dreadmarch moved instantly, already expecting this.
He raised a finger, and an entire spear of condensed Neba ford in the air, shimring with layered formations and elental chaos. He hurled it. Dedany dodged, and the mountains behind him collapsed as the spear tore through the sky, a purple cot ending the distant horizon.
Dedany laughed.
"You still have bite," he said. "Let's see if you can handle this."
He clenched his fists.
Hollow Origin activated.
The air behind him tore open as hundreds of copies of himself split through a spiral of Neba light. They charged Dreadmarch, each wielding swords forged from condensed concept, striking from every direction at once.
But Dreadmarch spun midair and let out a pulse of command.
The surrounding Neba ford a radiant ring around him, blades of divine architecture, cutting through the swarm in perfect synchronicity.
He whispered.
"Absolute control."
Dedany halted.
The copies exploded in a rain of purple dust. Dreadmarch, calm again, floated forward, hands spread. The battlefield, even broken, began to heal under his presence. The Neba sang with harmony under his will.
Dreadmarch hovered in the sky, his long purple hair catching light that no longer moved. The wind should have been wailing, but all he heard was silence.
He extended his hand, and nothing ca.
He tried again. Focused. Poured Neba into the air, into the molecules, into the concept of destruction itself. What did Dedany do?
And yet, his strike... misfired. Delayed.
The blast he intended to hit Dedany's chest veered off, spiraling into the far mountainside.
What the hell is happening? he thought.
He should've had the advantage. He was Dreadmarch, the god of Zeten control, the Turtle of Infinity. His control over Neba was legendary. Absolute. No being, no man, no creature should have been able to interrupt his flow.
But sothing was wrong.
He tried again, this ti summoning a blade of pure violet Zeten again, forged from his will and years of mastery. But when he swung, the blade hit nothing, even though Dedany hadn't moved.
His strikes were always late.
It was like the world itself had stopped keeping up with him. Dreadmarch's heart sank, his eyes scanning the battlefield with divine clarity. And that's when he noticed it.
A shattered boulder, still hanging midair, frozen since their last clash. A tree branch twisted awkwardly, unmoving, though the wind howled. Ashes from their explosive strikes floated, but did not fall. Debris, smoke and Dust, all suspended in the air.
He felt the back of his neck tighten.
"...No. It can't be."
Then ca the realization.
"Ti," he whispered. "You erased ti."
Neba and Zeten... are everything.
Every concept that breathes, that exists, that ans anything... flows through Neba. From fire to thought, from light to love. Every action, every force, every rule the world follows is bonded by Neba and Zeten. Gravity has it. Wind carries it. Pain feels it. Even ti... is shaped by it."
He opened his eyes.
So if ti is gone, and Zeten carries ti... then I just have to remove the Neba from ti.
His hands stretched outward, glowing bright with divine intent.
He focused on a pocket of space, where ti had been erased.
And then, with a silent command, he tore the Zeten out.
Like siphoning breath from lungs, he ripped away the essence of ti's concept in that space, leaving it bare.
And with a jolt, the world around them reawakened.
Ashes fell.
Debris crashed.
Wind moved.
Leaves danced again.
But then... Dedany whispered again.
"Control."
Sothing shattered.
Dreadmarch's eyes widened.
He looked at his hands, felt the Neba resist him.
Concept erased.
The "absolute control" Dreadmarch wielded over Neba was no longer valid.
He could still command it, but it wasn't perfect anymore. It wasn't fast enough to match him.
Dedany was already there.
They clashed again.
Two swords made of pure violet light slamd against each other. The sky trembled. Space ripped. The clouds above burst apart as if struck by a silent bomb.
Dreadmarch staggered back, blood running from the corner of his lip.
Even weakened, he was monstrous, but now...
Now, he was vulnerable.
Dedany's smile widened.
He raised his hand, forming another sword,
but this one twisted with void light, glowing with stolen aning. "You're no longer a god," Dedany whispered. "You're just a mory."
He stabbed forward, and this ti, Dreadmarch couldn't fully block it.
The blade pierced through his shoulder, spraying purple light.
With a burst of will, Dreadmarch retaliated, sending Dedany flying back with a shockwave so strong it disintegrated the clouds above into nothing, but the damage was done.
Dreadmarch panted, holding his wound. He could still move, still fight, but his edge was gone.
And in Dedany's eyes, that was all he needed.
The sky trembled under the weight of Dedany's Zeten-charged blasts, purple streams of raw Zeten Neba hissing through the air like divine artillery.
Dreadmarch's eyes flared violet. He raised both arms, and with a surge of will, barriers blood into existence, thick dos of swirling Neba that surrounded each incoming strike.
The blasts collided against his shields, but instead of breaking through, they detonated inside their cages, erupting with a muffled fury.
The sky flashed purple-white, but Dreadmarch stood untouched.
"Cheap tricks," he muttered.
But then, he felt it.
That subtle shift in the air.
His next barrier didn't form. His body responded, but the command didn't register. It wasn't a delay this ti, it was absence.
Dedany smirked, lowering his hand. "I've erased the concept of defense again."
Dreadmarch's face hardened.
No ti to hesitate.
If he couldn't shield, he'd attack.
In a blink, he clenched his fists and dragged the very breath from the battlefield.
The Neba vanished.
Not redirected. Not destroyed. Simply... removed.
Dedany's eyes widened for the first ti.
Every particle of Neba within their imdiate space was gone. The world around them turned gray and silent, stripped of power.
Dedany landed softly on the empty air, blinking at his own hand. "I can't— use zeten enba anymore."
But Dreadmarch didn't wait.
He lunged, bare fists tightening, no longer glowing, no longer divine, just pure, titanic force. Dedany t him in kind, their auras gone, their godhood reduced to raw strength.
And just as they were about to clash, Dreadmarch dropped the seal.
The Neba rushed back into the world like a tide, filling the vacuum. But he had tid it, his Neba returned first.
That split-second head start was all he needed.
His fist lit up, laced with Neba, charged into a beam of obliteration that pierced the very clouds.
The blast hit Dedany clean.
His body twisted midair, the impact hurling him backward through layers of atmosphere.
Smoke. Silence. A long exhale.
Had it worked?
Dedany's figure erged, wounded, but grinning.
He raised a single hand. Only one finger.
And he touched the Neba in the air.
A ripple spread.
"I've erased the concept of death."
Dreadmarch clenched his jaw, watching as Dedany's gaping wound closed instantly.
"Tsk."
He pulled in more Neba, preparing to fire again. A direct hit this ti. No rcy.
But just as he began to charge the attack,
everything stopped.
His body didn't move.
His mind... blanked.
"...What...?"
For a single, excruciating mont, he had no thought.
No reason.
No command.
Dedany had erased the concept of thought.
The void in his mind cracked a second later, but it was too late.
CRACK.
Dedany blurred past vision, a streak of dark violet light. He crashed into Dreadmarch with unimaginable force, his speed now unchallenged.
"Fall."
He slamd into Dreadmarch's chest and drove him downward, faster than gravity itself could comprehend.
The wind scread around them, and before Dreadmarch could recover...
His body struck his own turtle shell with divine force, shaking the entire creature beneath. The living caravan groaned as cracks spiderwebbed across the shell. The world dimd for a heartbeat.
Dreadmarch coughed, blood mixing with Neba.
"He's... adapting too fast," he thought bitterly, feeling his body tremble.
And still... the battle wasn't fully finished.
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