Chapter 538
"Aura..." the youngest whispered, his mouth hanging wide open, no longer because he wanted to laugh or scream, but because he had run out of air, because it felt as though an invisible hand was crushing his chest, because every exhausted cell in his body was screaming at him to run while his legs refused to move.
"The aura... it's getting stronger. Not like before. This... this is different. It's like... like standing before something that cannot be opposed."
And Theo began to walk.
One step.
It was neither fast nor slow, but measured, a step born from the certainty that every footprint he left upon the cracked ground of the Land of the Gods could never be erased by anyone.
And when his right foot, a leg stretched long like the root of a tree searching for water beneath unbearably dry earth, touched the ground, something echoed through the air.
It was not a sound, nor a vibration, but a presence, the presence of Will that suddenly permeated every corner of the Land of the Gods, like a whispering wind.
"Praise be to the Most Honorable Great Author, whose words never perish, even though the world has shed its skin thousands of times."
The youngest stepped back, not because he wanted to, but because his own body forced him backward, because every exhausted muscle in his legs decided that retreat was better than approaching.
"D-Don't... don't come any closer!" he shouted, his trembling hand rising once again as he summoned the remnants of Sa still lingering at his fingertips, not much, only "Sa: Indeterminacy" and "Sa: Elimination," two authorities that should have been enough to annihilate a dragon or erase an entire timeline from existence. He unleashed them toward Theo, toward the chest that had absorbed Will, toward the hollow abdomen that had absorbed Intent, toward the left arm with only two fingers remaining that had absorbed Ambition, toward the pristine white spine that had absorbed Resolve.
But the attacks never reached their target.
Not because Theo dodged them, but because they vanished into the air, disappearing like mist forgotten by the sun, like words spoken in an empty room where no one was listening, like prayers offered to a god who no longer believed in Himself.
"N-No... impossible..." the youngest whispered, his dim eyes struggling to shine once more, searching for the last remaining embers buried deep within his heart. Yet all he found was exhaustion, an exhaustion he had never admitted because he was the sole ruler of the Land of the Gods, and rulers were never supposed to grow tired.
"My Sa... isn't working? How can my Sa not work? I am the heir to the Authority of Existential Suppression and Erasure of Will! I am the youngest child who conquered all of my siblings! I am..."
The second step.
And when Theo's left foot, shrunken like the foot of a baby born too early from an unprepared womb, touched the ground, a second resonance filled the air.
This time it was not Will that spoke, but Intent. Its gentle voice seeped into the pores of the air, into the cracks of logic, into the space where the youngest had hidden every memory of birthday cakes as hard as stone and cold marble tables.
"Praise be to the Most Honorable Great Author, whose Intent has never wavered, even though His body has been shattered into countless pieces," Intent whispered. Every word it spoke did not sound like a voice. It sounded like water flowing over smooth stone, like wind drifting through dry leaves, like something that could never be grasped by the hand yet could always be felt by the heart.
The youngest tried to retreat again, but his legs refused to move. Not because they were incapable of moving, but because he chose not to. Deep within his chest, in the innermost place where he had hidden every hatred he had never acknowledged, a voice whispered.
"Silence. This is something you have never seen before. These are... the Inescapable Steps."
"I... I will not lose," the youngest muttered, gritting his teeth, teeth so white, so perfectly aligned, far too perfect to belong to a creature that had ever known pain. With the last remnants of strength left inside his exhausted body, he decided to stop defending himself. He attacked. Not with Sa launched from afar, but with his own body. He charged toward Theo, both hands raised, his thin fingers curled into claws, while the last remnants of Sa, "Sa: Singularity," "Sa: Reduction," "Sa: Fragmentation," "Sa: Denial," "Sa: Judgment," "Sa: Indeterminacy," and "Sa: Elimination," were no longer fired outward but fused together within himself, into his weary muscles, into his cracked bones, into the gray blood flowing from palms torn apart by his own fingernails.
"I'll destroy you with my own hands!" the youngest roared, and for the very first time, his voice no longer trembled. It was full, overflowing with determination, a determination born not from the certainty that he would win, but from the terror of losing, from the despair that there was no path left except forward, even if moving forward meant death.
"I won't let you..."
He never finished the sentence, because Theo evaded him.
Not with movements that were fast or slow, but with movements that were precise, impossibly precise, like someone who already knew where the blow would land before it was thrown, like someone who had read the script of this battle thousands of times and memorized every one of his opponent's movements by heart.
"Y-You..." the youngest uttered as his fist, empowered by "Sa: Singularity," missed its mark, striking nothing but empty air, only the place where Theo's afterimage had lingered moments before. Theo had shifted only a few centimeters to the right, just enough for the attack to become utterly meaningless.
He tried again, a kick infused with "Sa: Reduction," a slash empowered by "Sa: Fragmentation," a palm strike carrying "Sa: Denial." Every attack, every movement he had trained for thousands of years while ruling, every authority he had gathered since the day he blew out birthday candles alone at the age of six, all of them missed. They struck nothing but air, leaving scars upon the cracked earth while never once touching Theo's body, a body that continued to move, continued to evade, continued to dodge with motions that became increasingly relaxed, increasingly unhurried, like someone taking a peaceful stroll through a park on a bright afternoon.
"Stop... moving!" the youngest shrieked as he lunged for Theo's hand, the left hand with only two fingers remaining, its palm still stained red with blood that had never truly dried. Using both hands, he tried to seize it, restrain it, lock it in place, determined to ensure that at least one part of this young man's body could no longer evade him.
And for a brief moment, he succeeded.
His slender fingers clamped around Theo's wrist, his long nails piercing already wounded flesh, and he felt a pulse, a slow pulse, unnaturally slow, one that did not resemble the heartbeat of an ordinary human because it came not from the heart, but from the bones, from Theo's immaculate white spine pulsating within his hollow abdomen.
To be continued...