Chapter 47: The Unforeseen Consequence
The air crackled with energy as Xorath stood before his opponent, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Without warning, he unleashed the power he had long kept hidden—the **Ultimate Saga**.
A blinding flash engulfed the battlefield. The ground trembled, and a deafening roar filled the air. When the light faded, all that remained of the girl was a faint memory, her essence consumed by the raw power of the spell.
Xorath staggered back, his mind reeling from what he had done. *What have I done?* he thought, his hands trembling.
Just then, the ground beneath them began to shake. A portal materialized in the distance, and from it emerged Zokraks, the ancient being whose arrival was foretold by the inscription outside.
**Zokraks:** *What is the meaning of this?* His voice boomed across the battlefield, echoing off the crumbling walls.
Xorath turned, his expression a mix of fear and remorse. **Xorath:** *I... I didn't mean to. It was an accident.*
**Zokraks:** *Accident? You speak of an accident as if it were a mere misstep. Look around you.*
Zokraks surveyed the destruction, his eyes falling on the spot where the girl had stood. His expression hardened, and he stepped closer to Xorath.
**Zokraks:** *You were supposed to be his successor. The one who would carry on his legacy. And this is what you've done?*
Xorath lowered his head, unable to meet Zokraks's gaze. **Xorath:** *I lost control. The power... it was too much.*
**Zokraks:** *Power without wisdom is nothing but a tool for destruction. You have proven yourself unworthy.*
As Zokraks spoke, the air grew colder, and the remnants of the battleground seemed to hold their breath. Xorath knew in that moment that everything had changed—forever.
**Zokraks:** *Very well. I shall find another. One who understands the true cost of power.*
With those words, Zokraks turned and began to walk away, leaving Xorath alone with the consequences of his actions. The portal behind him flickered, ready to swallow him whole, and in that instant, Xorath realized that his fate had been sealed.
Chapter 47.5: The Shattered Threshold
The void between realities hummed like a plucked wire as Xorath and Zokraks hurtled toward Universe 0—a place stripped of guardians, laws, and mercy. The air around them shimmered with unstable energy, fracturing like glass under Zokraks's command.
Zokraks (grinning, his voice a blade against the silence): You feel it, don't you? The *nothingness* here? No rules. No consequences. Perfect for what comes next."*
Xorath clutched the swirling storm of shadows Zokraks had tossed him—a "cloud" that pulsed like a living heart. It seared his palms, whispering secrets of entropy.
**Xorath** (through gritted teeth): *"Why give me this? You've never trusted me."*
**Zokraks** (snorting): *"Trust? This isn't a gift. It's a litmus test. If you die here, you were never worth the air you breathed."*
Before Xorath could retort, the ground beneath them *screamed*.
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Oesentious materialized not as a figure, but as a force—a gravitational crush that flattened the terrain into a crater. His form flickered between a humanoid silhouette and a collapsing star, voice layered with a thousand echoes:
**Oesentious**: *"Zokraks. Still recruiting failures, I see."* (His gaze locked on Xorath.) *"You. The boy who obliterated his own conscience with a spell. And now you play at godhood? In this form…"* (He laughed, the sound cracking the sky.) *"…you're* ***nothing***."
Xorath's cloud flared, tendrils lashing out—but Oesentious flicked his wrist. The attack reversed, slamming Xorath into a monolith of blackened crystal. Blood trickled from his temple as the cloud shuddered, fracturing.
**Zokraks** (mockingly, to Oesentious): *"Still monologuing? Predictable."* (He raised a hand, reality itself bending—)
**Oesentious**: *"Ah-ah."* (A snap of his fingers. Zokraks's arm *shattered* into ash, reforming slowly.) *"You forget. Here, I am the law."*
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Then—a sound like mountains splitting.
A staff tore through the fabric of Universe 0, wreathed in lightning. It struck the ground between them, and the shockwave sent Oesentious skidding back.
**Wukong** (voice booming from nowhere and everywhere): *"Law? Ha! Since when do* ***roaches*** *make laws?"*
The staff quivered, then shot upward. From its apex, the Monkey King descended—not the trickster of legend, but a wrathful deity, golden fur singed and eyes burning like supernovae. He landed with a grin sharper than any blade.
**Wukong** (to Xorath, without looking): *"You. Shadow-boy. Still alive? Good. Means I get to watch you squirm a little longer."* (To Oesentious): *"As for you… How 'bout we play a game? You try to exist in five seconds. I'll even let you start running."*
Oesentious's form rippled—anger or fear?—as Wukong's staff began to spin, tearing holes in the void itself.
**Zokraks** (to Xorath, low and urgent): "Get up. The cloud's not a weapon—it's a mirror. Use it to reflect his entropy. Or die."
Xorath gripped the seething mass, its whispers now a roar. Somewhere in the chaos, Wukong laughed—and the true battle began.
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