Velnova's laughter echoed through the empty void of his mind, a sound both unsettling and triumphant. He had gained everything, transcended everything. Chaos surged within him, his newfound power stretching across the very fabric of existence itself. The moment was his—he could feel it. He could reshape reality, rewrite fate, and bend the laws of the world to his will.
But then, as his smirk deepened, something shifted. An unfamiliar sensation pricked at his awareness, a ripple in the air. His crimson eyes flickered, narrowing in confusion as the ground beneath his feet trembled.
A cross mark—an unknown symbol—appeared on his skin.
It was subtle at first. Just a small, innocuous mark on his wrist, a faint crackle of energy. But the moment it formed, it began to expand, crawling upward, spreading like a dark stain on the fabric of his being. His body jerked in shock as the mark began to consume him. The sensation was unlike any force he had ever known, as though the very essence of his existence was being torn apart from within.
For the first time in eons, Velnova froze in place, his laughter cut short. The mark expanded across his skin, wrapping around him like a tightening noose. His muscles twitched, his bones groaned, and his very soul screamed in agony as the mark spread further. It wasn't just tearing at his flesh—it was attacking his very being, unraveling the threads of his existence.
The first to fall was the Cardinal World—the realm of mortal beings and the tangible universe. As the mark continued its insidious growth, the world around him shattered. Mountains crumbled, oceans evaporated, cities dissolved into dust, and the very air disintegrated into particles of oblivion. The chaos he once wielded had turned against him, and everything he had touched began to disappear.
The Spirit World followed next, dissolving like mist caught in an eternal storm. Ethereal beings, manifestations of magic and energy, were eradicated in an instant. The spirits of the land screamed in unison, their forms vanishing as if they had never existed. The mark spread through the very fabric of their existence, erasing them from all memory, from all time. Velnova's mind reeled, unable to comprehend what was happening to him.
And then, as if there was no limit to its power, the mark expanded into the Underworld—the realm of the dead. Souls, once trapped in an eternal cycle of rest and rebirth, dissolved under the weight of the mark's relentless pull. The rivers of the damned evaporated, the gates to the afterlife were sealed, and the very concept of death was erased. The Underworld was no more.
By this point, the mark had consumed the entire Tensura Cosmology—the interconnected realms and dimensions that made up this reality. Demon Lords, even beings like Milim and Guy Crimson, felt the distortion. The very laws that governed magic and existence shattered, bending, and collapsing under the weight of the mark's presence. It wasn't just reality—it was the very fabric of the universe that was being torn apart, as though the cosmos itself was being unwritten.
But the destruction did not stop there. The Void—the nothingness beyond the boundaries of creation—began to collapse inward. Even the void trembled, as if it were a mere illusion, something that could be undone. The space between realms twisted, folding in on itself as the mark spread into places where existence itself was barely defined.
Velnova, already on the edge of comprehension, felt his very soul begin to fray. Time and space no longer had meaning, and his thoughts were fragmented, broken into a million pieces as the mark devoured everything. He could feel his power being siphoned, his form being dismantled layer by layer, like a puzzle being undone by a force beyond understanding.
And then, at the pinnacle of the destruction, at the moment when nothing remained—Reality itself was undone.
The final bastion of existence, the Real Will—the force that had birthed the entire Tensura cosmology—was shattered. The source, the foundation of all creation, was obliterated as the mark consumed its very core. Everything that had ever been, every moment, every possibility, unraveled into nothingness.
And then, there was silence.
Velnova's consciousness flickered, the last remnants of his being barely holding on, as the final pieces of the world he had known were erased.
But as his mind teetered on the edge of oblivion, a final word cut through the void.
"No fun."
A voice, cold and detached, resonated from the empty abyss. It was not Velnova's. It was not from any being that had ever existed within the universe he had known. It was the voice of something else. Something beyond even the Void.
The Author.
The hand that had written the entire story, the force behind the very existence of Tensura, had taken control. The game, the plot, the grand design, had been in motion long before Velnova ever realized it.
The last remnants of his existence vanished, leaving nothing but an empty, unmarked page.
And with that, the story came to an end.
***
I am thinking about making it author playground should I continue on next chapter or start new novel