The appraisal concluded, its profound implications lingered as an oppressive weight.
Null remained motionless, absorbing the description, driven by a burgeoning fascination, the kind that borders obsession.
His fingers subtly tightened around Dark EA's hilt, forging a primal connection. The blade, in turn, responded with an insidious intensification of ontic dissonance. The very fabric of space around it buckled, warping with a profound, deepening distortion, as if reality itself recoiled, finding no escape.
A slow exhalation escaped him. "...Hah."
"So this is what my dark recreation manifested." A smile bloomed across his face, radiating profound self-satisfaction.
He subtly angled the blade, observing the surrounding spatial fabric pleat, dislocate, and desperately strive for coherence.
"I have truely outdid myself this time." A low, indulgent chuckle rumbled from his chest, brimming with pleased arrogance. "And propelled it beyond the threshold where the very notion of 'destruction' is rendered obsolete."
"Magnificent."
"...No... 'magnificent' cheapens it."
His eyes glinted with an inner dark fire. "This is umbra perfection."
He elevated the blade slightly, admiring the **void-black distortion** that pulsed outwards. Its segmented form defied geometric alignment, as if existence's axioms could not agree on its configuration.
"At this rate, the ultimate 'art of unmaking' will be painted upon the canvas of reality."
"This is what excess means…Overbearing excess."Just clean, unapologetic ownership.
For that fleeting moment, he stood, lost in contemplation, Like a king appreciating his forbidden treasure.
[...]
[Master... Are you done with your self-narcissism?]
"*Cough*"
Null did not dignify that with a response.
His gaze shifted, returning to the wyvern. It struggled to maintain its position, a precarious, trembling hover. Its wings, heavy and unresponsive, dragged through the air, their mechanics of lift forgotten. Blood, thick and uneven, streamed down its form, dripping into a space where gravity had become capricious. Its scales, once a bastion of near-impenetrable defense, were now fractured, splintered, regenerating at an agonizingly slow, ineffective rate.
Its vital aura flickered, unstable, on the precipice of extinction. Yet, its eyes—still locked onto Null, still burning with unyielding defiance, refusing to yield.
For the first time since the onset of this chaos, a subtle shift softened his expression—a flicker of recognition.
"...You are a resilient one."
"...Even now... you refuse to collapse." A faint, almost imperceptible sigh.
".How vexing. Dragons are said to be creatures of profound pride and unyielding nature. Their lineage, the dragonkin, appears no exception," He remarked, a blend of annoyance and detached observation coloring his tone. This knowledge, of course, was gleaned entirely from fictional lore. He had never met a real dragonkin, let alone a true dragon.
"And yet—" His lips curved. "How commendable."
He stepped forward. Closing distance in a way that made the act itself feel ceremonial.
"You fought well. Far better than anything I've faced since I was brought into this world."
He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over the wyvern's battered form.
"You adapted. You endured. You clawed your way this far. broke past your limits. And even managed to exert a modicum of pressure upon me."
'...'
"A 'modicum,' okay?" Null emphasized hurriedly. He didn't want his arrogantly-cool image to be ruined just for being a little humble.
"And ultimately, you nearly breached my unreachability. Do you comprehend the significance of that?" He offered no pause for a reply; a half-dead creature would provide none anyway.
"It signifies that you have earned my respect and a measure of empathy. Therefore, I'll be merciful enough to spare your soul from the absolute destruction effect. This concession is entirely reasonable, given that you are ultimately nothing more than an unfortunate cannon fodder."
"—A befitting conclusion that neither diminishes your draconic pride nor your commendable might. Aren't i generous?"
The battered wyvern produced a weak, ragged growl. Null took that as a 'yes'.
"Hmm. Hmm. Thus, I shall grant you a fate superior to a meaningless end." he raised his hand, two fingers extended with casual, almost playful grace. "Consider yourself honored, even in the afterlife, to be the inaugural subject for my Dark EA."
"Rest in peace."
In the next second, the air changed. The surrounding space constricted, bracing for an impact it could not withstand. The already fractured pocket dimension shuddered, its structural integrity groaning under a pressure yet to be unleashed. Even time itself stuttered, bracing for the impending injury.
Null's posture solidified. His grip on Dark EA became absolute, the segmented blade slowly rotating, aligning functionally with the cataclysm about to unfold. The amusement never left his face, but it sharpened, refined into something colder.
"Now then." He rolled his shoulder, testing the erroneous presence of the weapon. "Let us orchestrate an end befitting my prologue finale."
He drew the blade back. This motion carried not physical gravity, but the inexorable pull of narrative inevitability.
Darkness coalesced. The void-black distortion coiled around the blade, unevenly devouring light. Thin veins of darkest violet and dying crimson flickered across its surface, glowing Incongruously before collapsing into null. Fractured streaks of colorless distortion cleaved through them, like fissures where even light ceased to exist.
"Engrave this cataclysmic rupture onto your soul, Scaled beast!" His cadence toned up a notch, crowned with almost divine arrogance. "This unmaking' of truth exceeds your fleeting existence."
Finally—he released the Umbra Noble Phantasm's True Name:
★ Enuma Elish Requiem ★ (The Star of Destruction That Annihilated Heaven and Earth)
In this foreboding and ominous moment, Fantasy Omniscience-san unexpectedly interjected.
[Master, I must note — the designation "Requiem" does not exist within the ability description.]
Null did not even blink. "What if it doesn't?"
"It sounds fitting for my final annihilation strike."
"Now be silent and observe. Allow me my otaku indulgence."
Then—he swung.
And the world failed.
The instant the void blast was released, reality overloaded. The space-time fabric in line of the blast collapsed beyond all possibility of reformation, as if existence itself had been forced past its capacity to sustain order and structure.
The epicenter formed instantly, a nexus of cataclysmic breakdown.
Multiple fractures erupted simultaneously, propagating in vectors that defied any known axis, tearing along impossible angles into a tangled mess of failure.
The wyvern was caught in it instantly. Its end anticlimactic.
Its form stretched unnaturally as time destabilized—moments overlapping, skipping, compressing. Its wings beat, but the motion existed in fragments, out of sequence, until it no longer qualified as movement.
Its roar reverberated—overlapped—then died before it had fully begun.
At the heart of the strike, space-time was terminated entirely.
And still—the extreme reality dissolution did not cease.
Fractures raced outward across the pocket dimension, cascading through its structure like a system succumbing to an impossible load. Entire sections were consumed, folded inward; others tore outward, exposing raw, unstable layers beneath.
Like shattering glass—The woodland vanished. The sky split.
Points that were distant became proximate—then nowhere. Distance utterly fractured. Direction lost all meaning.
Time stuttered violently, moments fractured without flow.
The entire dimension was encased in extreme destruction.
And within it—Null stood. Untouched. Unaffected.
His blade lowered slowly, its residual distortions still warping everything nearby.
A breath escaped him, laden with dark satisfaction. "That is more like it."
Null leisurely appreciated the appalling yet sublime cataclysmic fissures, "This is what true destruction should feel like."
His gaze drifted across the collapse, then briefly to the void where the wyvern had been. "A gratifying, reality-collapsing finale. Right?"
Around him, the world continued its unraveling. And Null simply floated amidst the splintering shards of treality.
Serene.
Absolute.
Tyrannical.
Because from the moment he unleashed **Enuma Elish Requiem**—there had never been another possible outcome.
...