[???]
"Hahahaha!" A deep laugh resonated from Selwyn. "You did it, my friend! It should have been impossible, but you did it! You've ascended to the next level of power! How!?"
"There was no room for doubt," Mikoto stated, his voice muffled yet soothing in an odd way. "I merely existed and observed, I would not deny myself." He spread his arms wide as if embracing the dead planet. "It was simple. I merely took what was mine!"
"You do not cease to amaze me!" Selwyn laughed deeply, the sound echoing. "But the time for talk is over."
"Yes, you are right." Power radiated from the two monsters. "Let me keep my promise and end you."
The moment the last word left Mikoto's lips, the universe itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then, in an instant, the two vanished—a soundless burst of pressure rippling outward. The atmosphere shattered, the force of their combined acceleration igniting the skies in white and obsidian embers. The ground beneath them split apart from the sheer aftershock, mountains ruptured, the wasteland of the dead planet unable to withstand even the residual force of their launch.
The two shot into the sky with such insane velocity that it warped around them, light stretching and bending into thin, jagged streaks of gold and black. The air was ripped apart in their wake, sound left far behind, unable to keep pace with their movement.
They broke past the planet's atmosphere in an instant, the very concept of resistance meaningless. They left behind a world that had already been devastated, now further torn asunder by the mere act of their departure.
And then—silence.
No, there was the clashing of battle in the distance, but neither paid it any mind.
The vacuum of space swallowed all noise, leaving only the blinding streaks of their movement. They flew past shattered moons and lifeless celestial bodies, their speeds so incomprehensible that planets themselves seemed to crawl in comparison. The stars above them blurred as their forms became nothing more than thin, trailing arcs.
Then—impact.
They clashed for the first time in the void, their collision releasing a shockwave so utterly colossal that nearby planetary debris was instantly vaporized. Ripples of force expanded outward, distorting the light of distant stars, bending space.
Mikoto's fist met Selwyn's gauntlet in a blow, a single strike that could have split a planet in half had they fought in the world of mortals. Their locked fists ground against each other, sparks cascading in space.
Then, in the next breath, they were gone again, their bodies vanishing into streaks of clashing white and black. They weaved through the infinite space, their violent engagements like intense collisions that sent shockwaves rippling through the stars.
Their forms colliding at speeds so vast that each clash sent space quivering. Each time their fists met, the void itself seemed to crack, stars in the distance flickering from the overwhelming force.
And then—the Sun.
A gargantuan burning star stood in their path, a massive, unfathomable inferno.
Neither slowed.
Neither deviated.
They shot straight through it.
The moment their bodies met the outer corona of the star, the sheer force of their velocity parted the infernal gases, carving a tunnel of pure vacuum through the raging firestorm. Plasma storms and solar flares bent away from them, unable to touch them.
As they passed through the core of the Sun, the sheer gravitational forces—enough to crush entire planets into singularities—meant nothing. The heat—hotter than a million hells—did not even lick at their armor. Their battle was beyond such trivial constraints.
They erupted out of the other side, their momentum unchanged, the star behind them left utterly untouched save for the perfectly carved tunnel marking their passage.
Selwyn's laughter echoed in Mikoto's mind.
"Hah! That was exhilarating! Through a sun! Not even the Gods fought like this!"
Mikoto merely tilted his head, the fiery glow of the star reflecting off his helm.
Then, with a sudden motion, Mikoto's voice resonated through space.
"Second Seal: Red Horse."
From the ether of creation, a being emerged.
A monstrous, fiery red steed materialized into existence, its entire form wreathed in flames so intense they rivaled the cores of dying suns. Its hooves, vast and clawed, thundered against the emptiness of space, sending burning shockwaves rippling outward. Its mane was a torrential fire, wild and unbound, as though the very concept of war and devastation had taken the form of a beast.
And then—it charged.
The Red Horse surged forward, its speed surpassing even light. In the span of a heartbeat—no, faster than that—it reduced the distance between itself and Selwyn to nothing.
Selwyn barely had a moment to brace before the steed collided into him with the force of a newborn star.
A deafening, indescribable detonation followed.
An entire planet was reduced to dust upon the shockwaves impact. Its atmosphere vaporized, its crust shattered into a trillion fragments, and its molten core was ripped apart as the explosion expanded outward in an unfathomable eruption of energy. The shockwave engulfed nearby stars, their burning light extinguished in an instant, snuffed out as though they had never existed.
Space itself screamed.
The aftermath of the impact sent celestial bodies spiraling chaotically out of alignment. The Red Horse's apocalyptic fury had left scars upon the void.
And yet—Selwyn remained.
When the blinding light faded, his form emerged from the cataclysmic wreckage, his blackened armor glowing red-hot from the sheer force of the impact. His jagged golden horns had been slightly chipped, the face of his helmet now bearing deep scars where flames had lashed at him with god-scorching wrath. His body was still whole, but there was evidence that even he had felt the weight.
A low chuckle escaped him, his laughter spreading through the emptiness. He lifted his gaze toward Mikoto, his expression unreadable beneath his monstrous helm.
"Hah… Hahahaha!"
The sound rumbled.
"Now that is how it must be," Selwyn growled, rolling his shoulders as molten cracks sealed themselves across his armor. He exhaled, steam rising from his form. "I felt that one. I wonder…" His voice took on an almost gleeful edge. "How many more planets and stars will die before we're done?"
Those words left his lips as their bodies became nothing but streaks of color, resuming their battle and tearing across space.
Their forms flickered across, colliding and disengaging.
Each impact was a calamity.
Space itself wept at their passage, ruptured by their force. Celestial bodies crumbled, gravity wells collapsed.
Then—amidst this—Selwyn's monstrous voice resonated across space.
"EVISCERATE."
With that singular command, existence recoiled.
A profound, suffocating silence fell upon space.
And then—the stars simply ceased to be.
There was no explosion. No sound. No aftermath of destruction.
A vast swath of the universe simply vanished, erased from all existence.
Where once there had been burning giants of creation, ancient celestial monoliths that had illuminated the cosmos for eons—now, there was only an abyssal nothingness. A void without history. Without memory. Without even the faintest echo of what once was.
Selwyn had unmade an entire sector of the cosmos with nothing but a thought.
Yet—Mikoto was already gone.
By the time the stars had perished, he had already evaded.
There was no hesitation in his movements—no moment of shock or pause. He had simply perceived, acted, and evaded before the erasure had even fully come to pass.
And now—he was upon Selwyn.
With a speed so immediate, that Selwyn barely had time to register it—Mikoto thrust forward.
A single, decisive strike.
A fist, driven directly into Selwyn's stomach.
The impact was instant—but its devastation was infinite.
Selwyn's monstrous frame buckled, his armored form momentarily distorting beneath the force of Mikoto's strike. Space fractured around them—shattered fragments of causality rippled outward from the point of impact.
And then—Selwyn was sent hurtling through the abyss.
His body became a projectile, a force ripping across space with terrifying velocity.
Selwyn's momentum did not stop.
It did not slow.
It did not halt.
He was still accelerating.
For light-years, he continued—his presence carving a path of annihilation through the infinite dark.
Yet—even as he soared through destruction, Selwyn laughed.
A deep, guttural, almost euphoric roar of laughter.
"YES—YES! THIS! THIS RIGHT HERE!" His voice boomed across the ruins of entire galaxies. "THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE PURPOSE OF MY EXISTENCE! THIS STRUGGLE! THIS CONFLICT! THIS WAR!"
His body was broken, yet unbroken.
His armor cracked, yet unyielding.
The glow of his eyes gleamed with a fervor beyond mere obsession.
"I EXIST ONLY TO FIGHT! TO STRUGGLE! TO CLASH AGAINST AN OPPONENT WHO CAN STAND AS MY EQUAL!"
His voice was like a declaration—a vow written into reality itself.
And yet—Mikoto said nothing.
He simply hovered in place—silent, still.
There was no need to answer.
There was no need to acknowledge.
His silence was an absolute rejection.
Selwyn's madness meant nothing to him.
Selwyn's purpose—his thirst for battle—was something Mikoto would neither encouraged nor opposed.
For Mikoto did not fight for the sake of battle.
He fought to end.
And that end—Selwyn's end—was absolute.
His momentum had finally slowed.
A deep exhale left his armored form—his voice one raw exhilaration.
"…That was something, my friend."
But Mikoto did not respond.
He had already arrived.
A white streak of light, his form gliding through the remnants of broken space—effortlessly.
Mikoto came to a halt before Selwyn, his posture still.
And then—he whispered.
"Fifth Seal: Tribulation."
Reality obeyed.
In an instant, a blinding cascade of gold surged forth—not as a mere explosion, not as mere energy, but as something far greater.
Something alive.
A dozen figures emerged from the light.
Not mere specters. Not mere summons.
They were entities of absolute presence.
Each of them humanoid in shape yet entirely unique—wielding armaments that shimmered in the abyss of space.
One bore a colossal halberd.
Another wielded a greatbow.
One stood with a pair of gilded gauntlets, etc.
And they all had but one purpose.
Selwyn.
The monsters eyes flared with unrestrained, fervent exhilaration.
He opened his arms—welcoming the carnage.
"YES! YES! COME! COME! SHOW ME YOUR ABSOLUTE MIGHT!"
And they answered.
The first figure struck without hesitation.
The halberd-wielding warrior lunged forward, its body surging across the distance with incomprehensible speed. The golden-bladed weapon came down.
Selwyn twisted sharply, his monstrous black armor pulsating as he narrowly pivoted out of the halberd's deadly arc. The sheer force of the swing alone ruptured the space beside him.
But there was no time to recover.
Before Selwyn could counter, a second warrior was already upon him.
The bow-wielder had loosed an arrow before even existing in the same moment as its target.
The golden projectile struck—blindingly fast.
Selwyn's monstrous gauntlet snapped up, his arm twisting at an inhuman angle as he barely intercepted the incoming bolt. The impact rattled space, yet Selwyn only grinned as he twisted his grip—crushing the projectile into fragmented energy.
But—a mistake.
A third warrior had already closed the gap.
The gauntleted combatant.
Selwyn barely had time to register its presence before a colossal fist collided directly with his torso.
BOOM.
The impact was cataclysmic.
A shockwave erupted outward, folding space itself into shattered ripples. Selwyn's form buckled—his armor fracturing beneath the force.
And then—another blow.
And another.
And another.
Each strike followed the last without pause, without hesitation, without mercy.
It was not mere combat.
It was punishment.
It was judgment.
It was tribulation.
Selwyn's body was a blur, his monstrous frame forced into a desperate sequence of evasive maneuvers. His arms snapped up, deflecting a strike—only for another to land at his side. He twisted mid-air, dodging a roundhouse kick—only for a golden blade to carve a deep gash across his shoulder.
He blocked. He parried. He countered.
But it was not enough.
They were everywhere.
Each combatant was a warrior—an entity of pure martial arts.
A spear thrusted forward.
Selwyn pivoted. His monstrous gauntlet twisted, catching the golden weapon—snapping it in half.
But before he could retaliate—a warhammer descended.
The crushing blow struck square against his back, sending him careening forward—straight into the path of another onslaught.
He twisted, contorted, lashed out.
Yet every motion was answered with another assault.
Fists. Blades. Kicks. Bolts of gold.
Selwyn was drowning in destruction.
And yet—he roared.
Laughter, mad and exultant, bellowed from his being.
"YES—YES! MORE! MORE!"
He lashed out with a monstrous strike, catching one of the warriors directly in the chest—disintegrating it on impact.
Another took its place instantly.
A golden lance drove straight through Selwyn's shoulder.
His black blood splattered across space.
He tore the weapon out—only for three more to descend upon him.
And Mikoto—watching, silent—had yet to even lift a finger.
This was only the Fifth Seal.
Selwyn had not yet begun to suffer.