Angelita wandered aimlessly in the endless white void, her steps heavy and her heart weighed down by Donovan's words. She wiped away tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice trembling as she spoke to no one in particular.
"I... I'm just something created by his imagination..." Her words broke with each syllable. "But why... why would he say it like that?"
Her thoughts spiraled, but a voice, sharp and invasive, cut through the silence.
"Because to him, you are nothing."
Startled, Angelita spun around. Standing before her was a tall figure with snow-white hair and piercing red eyes, his presence commanding yet unsettling. He wore a pristine white suit, every crease and fold immaculate.
"W-who... who are you?" she stammered, her voice shaking.
The stranger smiled—a wide, deliberate grin that exuded both charm and menace.
"Ah, my dear, no need to be frightened," he replied, his tone calm but carrying an unnerving edge. "I am Chasin, and I mean you no harm, little one."
Angelita's unease deepened, her instincts screaming for caution. "W-what do you want from me?"
Chasin's voice softened, every word calculated and deliberate, as if each syllable were a thread in a web he wove around her.
"Angelita, this world you inhabit is built on illusions. Deception flows through every corner of existence. People feign strength, but inside, they are brittle and weak. Even Donovan—this so-called invincible figure—is merely a pawn, his strings pulled by forces far beyond his understanding."
Angelita's eyes widened as she shook her head, her voice rising in defiance. "No! That's not true! He's saved me, protected me. He's strong, and he never abandons us in danger. You're wrong about him!"
Chasin's smile widened, a glint of malice flickering in his crimson eyes. "Oh, I'm not denying his strength, child. But strength without clarity is a hollow virtue. Have you ever stopped to wonder what drives him? Do you truly believe his actions are his own? Or is he merely chasing shadows, fulfilling a purpose that isn't even his to begin with?"
Angelita hesitated, his words sowing seeds of doubt in her mind. "I... I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"
Chasin took a measured step closer, his presence looming over her like a storm cloud. His voice dropped, becoming a silken whisper, dangerous yet alluring.
"I'm saying that you've been blind. You fight for him, you cling to him, but he doesn't see the truth. He doesn't see you. You're nothing more than a tool in his endless pursuit of power. But with me, Angelita... I can give you what he never will. Freedom. Strength. Control over your destiny."
Angelita's breathing quickened, her mind torn between loyalty and the painful weight of Chasin's words. "But... I'd be betraying him if I did that. Wouldn't I?"
Chasin's laughter was soft and knowing, his expression one of feigned compassion. "Betrayal? No, my dear. This isn't betrayal—it's liberation. He betrayed you first by chaining you to his lies. But if you choose to step away, to embrace the truth, you'll discover a strength within you that rivals even his. All it takes is one decisive act. One simple action to sever the chains binding you to his false promises."
Angelita looked down, her hands trembling as she fought the torrent of emotions crashing over her. "I... I don't know..."
Chasin leaned in, his voice a whisper that echoed in the vast void. "You do know, Angelita. Deep down, you've always known. The question is... will you act on it?"
Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, but something stirred within her—a spark of conviction ignited by his words.
Hours later, in another part of the void, the air shimmered with tension.
Donovan and John Smith stood still, their gazes locked in a battle of wills.
"Do you really think this will change anything?" John said, his voice as cold as the void around them.
Donovan didn't reply. Instead, in a blur of motion, both men closed the distance between them, fists colliding with devastating force. The impact rippled through the void, shattering the stillness. Cracks spidered across their faces, not of pain but of something deeper—something more elemental.
Above them, the fabric of the void tore open, revealing an abyss that seemed to pulse with energy.
Donovan stepped back, brushing off his black suit as if nothing had happened. He lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag before flicking it away.
John adjusted his own suit, smirking faintly. "We could destroy everything here, or..." He gestured lazily, "...we could settle this differently."
Donovan exhaled, smoke curling around his face as he sighed. "Fine."
With a snap of his fingers, a chessboard materialized between them, its pieces carved from obsidian and ivory. They both sat, their eyes gleaming with unspoken challenges.
As the first piece was moved, the void seemed to hold its breath, the fate of countless worlds hanging on the outcome of a simple game.
The chessboard shimmered with an otherworldly glow, each piece carved from fragments of existence itself. Donovan and John Smith sat opposite one another, their expressions unreadable, their focus absolute. Time seemed irrelevant here; the only thing that mattered was the game.
John Smith opened with 1. e4, the king's pawn moving forward with purpose. A classical and assertive beginning.
Donovan, ever unpredictable, responded with 1... c5, signaling the Sicilian Defense. A choice that sought imbalance and chaos from the outset.
John pushed forward, taking control of the center with 2. Nf3 and 3. d4, breaking open the board early. Donovan countered with 3... cxd4 and 4... Nf6, targeting John's exposed central pawns.
The first few moves passed swiftly, both players maneuvering pieces like master tacticians, creating intricate webs of attack and defense.
The board soon became a battlefield of unparalleled complexity.
John Smith castled kingside, his position compact and strong, while Donovan, true to his chaotic style, delayed castling. His pieces danced aggressively across the board, threatening both flanks.
John launched a calculated pawn storm on the queenside with 11. b4, expanding his territory and putting pressure on Donovan's structure. Donovan, however, saw the opportunity to counterstrike and launched a ferocious kingside attack with ...f5, throwing his pawns forward to break John's defenses.
The middle game was a symphony of tactics:
Donovan sacrificed a knight on e5 with ...Nxe5, opening lines for his queen and bishops to unleash an assault.John calmly neutralized the attack with 16. f4, forcing Donovan's queen to retreat.
The void around them rippled with tension, each move like a tectonic shift in reality.
By the 25th move, the board was a maze of possibilities. Donovan's queen and rooks dominated the center, threatening checkmate with every subtle shift, but John's defense was impenetrable.
John's 25. Rc6 was a stroke of brilliance, an exchange sacrifice that lured Donovan's rook into a vulnerable position. Donovan, sensing the trap but unwilling to lose tempo, accepted the sacrifice with ...Rxc6.
John responded swiftly with 26. dxc6, creating a passed pawn that now loomed dangerously close to promotion.
Donovan's counterplay was equally aggressive. His queen infiltrated deep into John's territory, threatening both material and positional devastation.
By move 35, both players were operating at the peak of their abilities, the board reduced to queens, a handful of pawns, and one rook each.
Donovan's strategy was to force a perpetual check, keeping John's king under constant threat while advancing his own pawn to promotion. However, John had seen deeper into the position.
With 36. Qg7+, John forced Donovan's king into an awkward corner. Donovan responded with 36... Kh8, maintaining a razor-thin margin of safety.
John then executed his decisive maneuver:
37. Rxf8+!
The rook sacrifice shattered Donovan's defense. If Donovan captured the rook with his king, John's pawn would promote with a decisive advantage.
Donovan hesitated for the briefest moment—an eternity in their timeless void—before reluctantly moving his king away.
John's pawn marched forward: 38. c7, threatening promotion.
Donovan fought valiantly, but with his resources depleted and his king vulnerable, John delivered the final blow:
40. Qf8#
The void fell silent as Donovan leaned back in his chair, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Well played," Donovan admitted, his voice tinged with admiration.
John nodded, his expression serene yet unyielding. "Sometimes, Donovan, even the strongest need to be reminded of their limits."
Donovan exhaled, a mix of frustration and respect in his gaze. "A reminder I won't forget."
As the chessboard dissolved into nothingness, the tension between them shifted. They had fought with their minds, and though John had won, both had gained something intangible from the battle.
For now, the void remained still, but the ripple effects of their game would echo far beyond this moment.
As the last echo of the chess match between Donovan and John Smith faded into the void, Angelita found herself still wandering aimlessly, her thoughts a tangled mess. Her mind raced with Chasin's words, their venomous truth embedding itself deeper with each passing moment.
She stopped, her reflection visible on the endless white beneath her feet. Her trembling hands clutched at her heart, her emotions teetering between rage and despair.
"Do you see it now, Angelita?" Chasin's smooth, almost fatherly voice broke the silence, his figure appearing once more before her. His crimson eyes gleamed with an eerie warmth, like embers promising safety while hiding an inferno beneath.
She looked up at him, her resolve wavering. "Why… why do your words feel so true? Why do they hurt so much?"
Chasin stepped closer, his movements deliberate and comforting. "Because the truth is often the sharpest blade. Donovan has lied to you, not out of malice, but because he sees you as nothing more than a figment of his imagination. His strength blinds him to the reality of others. But you, Angelita, are more than what he sees. You are a force waiting to be unleashed."
Angelita's voice cracked as she spoke. "What do you mean? How can I be stronger? I'm just… me."
Chasin placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm yet reassuring. "You are more than 'just you.' Let me show you."
He waved his free hand, and a swirling energy coalesced between his fingers. It morphed into a sword—elegant yet ominous. The blade shimmered with an unnatural brilliance, forged from an alloy of crimson and obsidian, its edges emitting faint whispers of anguish and despair. Runes danced along the hilt, glowing faintly with a sickly yellow light.
"This," Chasin said, his voice dripping with a mix of reverence and power, "is the Betrayer's Fang. A weapon that can harm even the untouchable. Its edge has tasted the blood of impossibility itself. With it, Angelita, you can wound Donovan—even his Nothingness Body cannot remain immune to its bite."
Angelita took a step back, hesitant. "I… I can't hurt him. I can't betray him."
Chasin sighed, shaking his head with the patience of a teacher dealing with a reluctant student. "Betrayal? No, my dear. This is liberation. You will not hurt him; you will awaken him. His arrogance has blinded him, and only through pain can he see the truth."
She stared at the sword, its unnatural beauty drawing her in. Her trembling hands reached for it, but she hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"
Chasin's eyes softened, his voice turning to a near whisper. "Because I see the potential in you that he refuses to acknowledge. I see the warrior within you, the strength to shape your destiny instead of being a shadow in his. Take the sword, Angelita. Take control of your fate."
Her fingers brushed against the hilt, and the moment she gripped it, a surge of power coursed through her veins. The void around her darkened, the light bending toward the sword as if it were the new center of existence.
"I feel… strong," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of awe and fear.
Chasin smiled, satisfied. "Strength you've always had but were too afraid to claim. Now, you see what you can become. But there is one final step, Angelita. One act to sever your chains completely."
Her eyes flickered with hesitation. "What… what do you mean?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to an almost hypnotic tone. "Donovan's presence shackles you. His perception of you binds your true self. To break free, you must confront him. Use the Betrayer's Fang to pierce his defenses, not to destroy him, but to unearth your own strength. Only then will you see the truth, Angelita."
Angelita's grip tightened on the sword. Her tears had stopped, replaced by a newfound resolve, albeit shaky. Chasin's words filled her mind, drowning out the memories of Donovan's kindness, his strength, his unwavering support. All she could think of was the doubt Chasin had planted.
"Will this truly set me free?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Chasin nodded solemnly. "Without a doubt. And when you take that step, Angelita, you will realize that freedom is worth any price."
With that, he stepped back, letting the moment sink in. The sword hummed faintly, its runes glowing brighter as if feeding off her growing turmoil.
Angelita turned her gaze toward the horizon, where she knew Donovan awaited. She didn't fully understand what she was about to do, but the thought of reclaiming her strength outweighed the fear of what it might cost.
Behind her, Chasin's smile widened, his red eyes glowing faintly. "And so, the first fracture appears," he murmured to himself, watching as Angelita disappeared into the void with the Betrayer's Fang in hand.
The void crackled as faint energy ripples danced through the air, the aftermath of Donovan and John Smith's cosmic chess match lingering like a memory etched into existence itself. Donovan leaned back in his chair, his yellow eyes scanning the vast emptiness ahead, seemingly bored.
John Smith, adjusting his pristine suit with a flick of his wrist, broke the silence. "Donovan, you do realize that even in games, the smallest moves carry weight. The ripple effect, as they say."
Donovan smirked, his voice carrying its usual edge. "And yet, you always think three moves ahead, don't you, John?"
Before John could reply, a portal of crackling blue energy tore open above them, flooding the void with an intense light. The two men instinctively rose to their feet, the air thickening with anticipation.
A figure stepped through, his silhouette framed by the swirling portal behind him. Ryan emerged, his appearance calm and composed. His vibrant energy contrasted with the stoic void around them.
Donovan raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with indifference. "Ryan. Took your sweet time, didn't you?"
Ryan walked forward, his steps unhurried as if he were completely at peace. He dusted off his shirt, a confident smile playing across his lips. "Donovan, John… You know me. I don't rush into things without good reason."
John folded his arms, his analytical gaze locked on Ryan. "And your reason for showing up now?"
Ryan stopped a few paces away, his blue eyes shining with an otherworldly clarity. "Because I've seen it." He tapped his temple. "
Donovan's eyes narrowed. "You saw the future? What exactly did you see, Ryan?"
Ryan turned his gaze toward Donovan, his expression unwavering. "I saw the chaos, the betrayals, the fractures. But beyond that, I saw resolution. I saw us prevailing in ways none of us can comprehend right now. Every move that's being played, every decision made—it all leads to the same endpoint. Balance."
John tilted his head slightly, his voice tinged with skepticism. "And you're certain this vision isn't another trick? Another fragment of something larger trying to manipulate us?"
Ryan chuckled lightly. "John, your paranoia is endearing, but unnecessary. I didn't come here to argue or to convince. I came because I wanted you both to know that what lies ahead isn't something to fear. We're pieces on a board, yes, but even the players controlling us have limits."
Donovan crossed his arms, his yellow eyes glowing faintly. "If you're so confident everything works out, why bother showing up at all? Seems out of character for you to reassure anyone."
Ryan smirked. "I came to remind you that even the most powerful need perspective. You've been so focused on your game—" he gestured at the chessboard, now faded into nothingness, "—that you've forgotten the bigger game. The one we're all part of."
John's expression remained unreadable, though his gaze lingered on Ryan longer than usual. "You saw balance, but balance always comes at a cost. What's the price this time?"
Ryan's smile faded slightly, his tone growing more somber. "A choice. One none of us will like, but one that's necessary. Donovan will have to decide—between power and trust."
Donovan's expression hardened. "Trust is a liability, Ryan. You should know that by now."
Ryan shrugged. "And yet, it's the only thing that's going to save you when the time comes."
The portal behind Ryan dissolved into the void, leaving the three figures standing alone in the endless white. The tension between them hung thick, a silent battle of wills playing out in their eyes.
Donovan exhaled sharply and lit another cigarette. "Fine. You've made your little speech. If you're done playing the sage, get to the point. What do we need to do?"
Ryan smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "Wait. Play your parts. And when the time comes, don't hesitate."
John watched Ryan closely, his analytical mind racing. "Your presence here isn't just reassurance. You're positioning yourself in this game as well. What's your next move?"
Ryan's smirk returned. "My move? That's for you to figure out."
With that, he turned and began walking into the void, his form gradually fading until only his voice remained, echoing faintly:
"Remember, Donovan, even the strongest need allies. And trust isn't a weakness—it's a weapon. Use it wisely."
Donovan stood still, his cigarette glowing faintly as he inhaled deeply. "What do you think, John? Is he messing with us, or is he onto something?"
John adjusted his tie, his expression neutral. "Ryan's motives are always layered. Whether he's helping or scheming, one thing is clear—he knows more than he's letting on. We should keep an eye on him."
Donovan smirked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Yeah. Let's see how this 'balance' plays out."
With that, the void around them shifted slightly, a subtle reminder that their game was far from over.
The scene unfolded with an eerie calm, as Donovan closed his eyes, his mind focusing on a single thought: the world, as it had once been, could be restored. He began to imagine it—every erased moment, every lost piece of existence, snapping back into place like a shattered puzzle being reassembled. For a fleeting moment, he felt as though he could control everything, and the very fabric of reality would bend to his will.
But as the image settled, he sensed a shift in the air. A presence. Angelita's aura was unmistakable, and Donovan turned toward it, his thoughts drifting back to the words he had just spoken to her. "Hey, Angelita… sorry about what I sa—"
His words died in his throat as his gaze locked onto Angelita's sky-blue eyes. Something was wrong. They glowed with an eerie, unnatural light, and her once-trustworthy presence now seemed tainted. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but before he could react, Angelita moved.
In an instant, she drew the sword with unnatural precision, the blade gleaming ominously as it thrust deep into Donovan's chest. His body faltered, the shock of the blow sending him to his knees. The world around him seemed to slow as the sword pierced him, its tip sinking into his heart.
"Donovan!" John Smith's voice cracked through the tension, his voice filled with alarm as he rushed toward him. "What's wrong, Donovan!?"
The sword, as quickly as it had appeared, disappeared—vanishing into thin air, leaving no trace of its existence. Donovan's breath came in shallow gasps as he slowly stood, his wide eyes staring at the place where the blade had struck him. A moment passed before he spoke, his voice shaking but filled with an unsettling realization.
"The Nothingness Body… has been stripped from me."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final. It wasn't just the physical pain that gnawed at him—it was the utter loss of his greatest power, the one gift from The Absolute that had made him invulnerable to death, time, and space itself. The Nothingness Body was his very core, his shield against the impossible, and now it was gone.
John Smith stepped back, his face unreadable as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind raced through the possibilities, but one truth was clear: someone had just shattered the impossible.
Angelita stood in front of Donovan, her eyes wide with uncertainty, still trembling from the act she had just committed. The sword she had used, her hand now empty, seemed to disappear as if it had never existed. She struggled to find the words, the weight of her actions sinking in.
"I… I didn't mean to—" Angelita stammered, her voice strained and uncertain.
Donovan's gaze, colder than ever, turned toward her. The fury within him began to boil over, but something deeper—something more painful—flickered in his eyes. He could feel the emptiness now, a hollow space inside him where once there had been infinite power.
"You didn't mean to?" Donovan's voice was low, edged with betrayal. "You don't get to say that. You chose this. You chose to listen to him, to betray everything we've fought for." His eyes flickered with a dark light, though it was tempered with a sharp sadness. "You were never just a tool to me, Angelita. I thought… I thought you understood that."
Angelita's lips quivered as guilt and confusion warred within her. The sword, the decision to strike—had it all been a result of manipulation? She couldn't tell anymore. Her mind was a mess of emotions, each one more painful than the last. "I… I didn't know what to believe anymore." She barely whispered the words, her gaze dropping to the ground. "Chasin… he made me see things differently. He promised me strength, something more than what I could be to you. I thought… I thought I was freeing myself."
Donovan's expression grew more intense, his voice a sharp, cutting edge. "You were never trapped, Angelita. You were free, and I gave you that freedom. And you threw it away for an illusion." He clenched his fists, his anger rising again, though it was more the result of his broken trust than anything else. "You didn't just betray me. You betrayed yourself."
John Smith stood to the side, his gaze flicking between the two of them, weighing his options. He knew the emotional charge of the moment—he could feel the tension radiating between them like a storm ready to break. But this was bigger than just Donovan and Angelita. Something had shifted. And John wasn't sure whether they could undo the damage.
Donovan's voice, now quieter, was laced with bitterness. "You think you've chosen strength? You've just sold yourself into servitude. You'll never be free now, Angelita. Not from him. Not from that path." He exhaled deeply, the weight of his own words sinking in. He turned to John, a hard resolve settling into his features.
John nodded, but before they could move, Angelita stepped forward, her voice cracking with a mix of fear and shame. "I… I don't know what to do. I thought I could control this power, but now… now everything's falling apart."
Donovan looked back at her, his expression stern "You still have a choice, Angelita. But make no mistake—you chose your path when you let someone like Chasin control your fate. Now it's up to you to decide what kind of person you want to be. Because this—this is a line you can never cross back from."
Angelita stood still, her heart heavy with regret and confusion. She had listened to the promises of power and freedom, but now she saw the truth—she had been manipulated, and in doing so, she had shattered something irreplaceable.
But would it be too late to find redemption? Or had she already sealed her fate with the choice she made?
The world around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the answer.
Donovan stood still for a moment, feeling the emptiness that now lingered where his Nothingness Body once resided. He could sense the overwhelming weight of the loss. It was more than just the absence of power—it was the absence of his very essence, his connection to the vast, uncharted depths of existence. But Donovan was far from helpless, and he knew that even in the face of this destruction, he could rebuild.
Closing his eyes, Donovan's thoughts turned inward. He reached deep within his consciousness, tracing the threads of reality, drawing on his profound understanding of the nature of existence. His will was unmatched—he would craft something even more complex than before.
The ground beneath him trembled as a cascade of invisible energy rippled outward. Donovan extended his hand, his fingers curling as he began to mold the new form.
Layers upon layers of nothingness began to materialize, folding and unfolding in intricate patterns. Each layer was built upon infinite zero values, expanding outward in an endless cycle, each one more refined than the last. The structure of the body seemed to be a paradox—perfectly still yet infinitely dynamic, existing within multiple planes of reality at once. It was a body that mirrored the Nothingness Body but exceeded it in every way. Each layer was an iteration of self, a reflection of his limitless potential, and a manifestation of the endless possibilities that lay beyond conventional understanding.
As the body took shape, it began to glow with an ethereal light, the infinite zero values flickering and shifting in a beautiful, chaotic dance. The body was a paradox—existing in all forms yet none, a never-ending construct of power and entropy. Donovan's mind was clear as he entered this new form, the very essence of his existence now layered and infinite, stretching across dimensions that only he could comprehend.
The energy surged through him as he flexed his new form. His senses, his awareness, even his will, were sharper than ever before. He could feel the entire fabric of existence bending to his command. It was a body that transcended limitations, a body that would serve him for as long as he willed it.
But Donovan didn't show any outward signs of his triumph. His face remained as stoic as ever, even though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked around and saw Angelita, her aura now subdued, the flicker of doubt still in her eyes. She had made her choice, but Donovan could sense that there was more to her than the betrayal she had just committed.
He turned toward the world around them, his mind already beginning to shift the very fabric of reality. The empty white void, which had once stretched infinitely in every direction, began to distort and collapse in on itself. Donovan's will pushed it back into the natural world, restoring the balance that had been disturbed. The void became a memory as the world began to take shape once more, the laws of nature resuming their course, the familiar landscapes and realities returning to their rightful places.
As the world shifted, Donovan's smile deepened ever so slightly, though no one would see it. He knew exactly what had transpired, and he knew exactly who Angelita was. She had potential—great potential. The way she had hesitated, the conflict in her eyes, the way she'd been manipulated by Chasin—it was all part of her growth. She was no mere tool to be discarded; she had the strength to rise above the choices she had made, and Donovan saw that clearly.
"You have high potential, Angelita," Donovan muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper, as he gazed out at the world now returning to its natural state.
Angelita, still standing in the distance, didn't hear him. But Donovan knew, in the deepest part of his being, that she would one day realize the true extent of her power. She would come to understand that her path, while darkened for now, was only a stepping stone toward a future where she could control her own destiny. And when that day came, she would either stand with him—or against him.