Zhaevar stood still.
The battlefield around him was still shaking from residual mana storms, Luka's aura pressing against reality like a looming abyss. Yet Zhaevar's attention was no longer on Luka… nor on the ruined land.
It was on Vicky.
Zhaevar narrowed his eyes, staring at him as if trying to tear something out of his memory.
"I've seen you before…" Zhaevar muttered.
Vicky did nothing. He didn't even look tense. He simply stood there, calm, almost detached, as if the chaos unfolding meant nothing to him.
Zhaevar clenched his jaw.
"No—" he whispered. "That's impossible."
Fragments surfaced in his mind.
Ancient stone tablets.
Burned scriptures older than kingdoms.
Warnings carved by hands that trembled in fear.
His head suddenly throbbed.
A sharp, splitting pain pierced through his skull, forcing him to stagger back a step. His vision blurred as symbols flashed behind his eyes—symbols he was never meant to remember.
"You—" Zhaevar growled, pressing a hand to his head. "You were in those ancient scriptures…"
The pain intensified.
Blood trickled from the corner of his eye.
Vicky finally looked at him.
Just once.
That was enough.
Zhaevar's instincts screamed.
Rage replaced confusion.
"I don't care what you are anymore!" Zhaevar roared. "Today—none of you will survive!"
He gathered Paradox-level mana in an instant. Space twisted around his body as he launched himself straight toward Vicky, power compressed to a single killing strike.
But—
A shadow moved.
The air shattered.
Zhaevar's path was suddenly blocked.
Luka stood between them.
His expression was cold. Absolute.
"That's far enough," Luka said quietly.
Zhaevar snarled. "Move."
Luka didn't.
Instead, he took one step forward—and reality folded.
The world around them cracked like glass.
Before Zhaevar could react, space inverted, colors collapsing inward as Luka grabbed him by the throat.
"You are not worthy," Luka said, his voice echoing from every direction at once, "to raise your hand against my master."
The battlefield vanished.
Zhaevar slammed into solid ground, skidding across a crimson landscape beneath a sky split by floating fractures of light. Gravity felt unstable here—stronger, heavier, oppressive.
He stood up instantly, eyes blazing.
"A separate dimension?" Zhaevar laughed darkly. "You think this will stop me?"
Luka hovered in the air, his aura expanding, dark and ancient, layered with pressure that bent the horizon.
"This is a battlefield designed for your level," Luka replied. "You won't survive long."
Zhaevar attacked.
He vanished, reappearing behind Luka with a blade of compressed paradox energy, capable of slicing laws themselves.
Luka twisted, catching the blade barehanded.
The impact detonated.
Shockwaves tore through the dimension, mountains collapsing into dust. Luka didn't flinch.
Zhaevar's eyes widened.
Impossible.
Luka countered with a knee strike infused with rotational mana, distorting gravity around the impact point. Zhaevar was launched backward, crashing through layered spatial barriers.
Before he could recover, Luka raised his hand.
"Grave Spiral."
Mana condensed into a rotating vortex beneath Zhaevar, dragging him downward as gravity multiplied tenfold. Zhaevar roared, veins bulging as he forced himself free, tearing through the spell with raw power.
"So that's your level!" Zhaevar shouted. "Good! Finally worth killing!"
He slammed both palms together.
"Paradox Art: Sovereign Collapse!"
The sky folded inward. Laws contradicted themselves. Luka felt space attempting to erase him.
Luka smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
He stepped forward.
The collapse failed.
Zhaevar froze.
"What—?"
Luka's aura surged, overriding the spell entirely.
"Your Paradox bends reality," Luka said. "Mine replaces it."
Luka vanished.
Reappeared above Zhaevar.
"Voidstep: Sever."
A blade of pure absence carved downward. Zhaevar barely crossed his arms in time—but the strike cut through his defenses, sending blood spraying as he crashed into the ground.
Zhaevar laughed, coughing.
"So that's it… you're a monster too."
Luka descended slowly.
"No," he said. "I am a servant."
Zhaevar's laughter stopped.
Before he could process those words, Luka raised both hands.
"Domain Expansion: Abyssal Authority."
Darkness flooded the dimension.
Not emptiness.
Command.
Every particle obeyed Luka's will.
Zhaevar struggled to move—his body resisting, muscles trembling under unseen laws pressing down on him.
"This fight isn't over," Zhaevar snarled, forcing himself upright through sheer will.
Luka acknowledged him with a nod.
"Good," Luka said. "Survive long enough to remember this."
They charged again.
Their collision ripped the dimension apart.
The battlefield was quiet now.
Vicky stood where Luka had left him.
Aarna circled him slowly, her hands behind her back, eyes scanning him openly.
She leaned closer.
"Hmm…" she hummed.
Vicky blinked. "What?"
Aarna reached out and pinched his cheek.
"Master," she said, smiling brightly, "you've gotten thinner."
Vicky froze.
"What?"
She leaned in teasingly. "After I was sealed, did no one take care of you properly?"
Vicky rubbed his cheek, confused. "I'm fine."
Aarna giggled softly, walking around him again. "Lies. You used to look sturdier."
She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips.
"You really should eat more."
Vicky stared at her.
The battlefield.
The war.
The looming threats.
For a moment—none of it mattered.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
And somewhere, far beyond reality, something ancient watched… and waited.