The battlefield was unstable. What had once been a endless realm of existence was now nothing more than a flickering void, shifting between presence and absence as if reality itself could not decide whether it had ever been real.
Noctis Malphas stood motionless in the collapsing space. His form did not glow, nor did it radiate the overwhelming energy that beings of his level often did. He was not a storm of power, not a titan that imposed his will with brute strength. Instead, he was an anomaly—a being whose mere presence defied existence itself.
The space where he stood was neither dark nor light, neither solid nor empty. It was simply uncertain.
Across from him, Xal'Zyren Valthor did not move. He did not blink. He did not react with the same intensity as warriors who had faced annihilation before. He was beyond panic, beyond confusion. Instead, he simply observed. Analyzed. Processed.
This was his power—the ability to define all things, to impose meaning upon the void. Yet for the first time, his power had been rejected.
The omniverse had lost something.
And Xal'Zyren could not bring it back.
Noctis finally spoke.
"You are wasting your time," he said, his voice neither loud nor quiet. It simply existed.
Xal'Zyren did not answer immediately. Instead, he extended his will into the void surrounding them. He focused on the fragments of existence still clinging to the battlefield, pulling at the echoes of what had once been.
The laws of reality responded to him. What had been erased would be restored. What had been unmade would return to being. It was not an act of destruction or recreation—it was a command.
The omniverse would be whole again.
But then, Noctis raised his hand.
There was no explosion. No burst of energy.
Instead, the fragments of reality that Xal'Zyren had called back into being vanished.
Not erased. Not unmade.
It was as if they had never been imagined at all.
Xal'Zyren's golden eyes narrowed.
Noctis observed him. "You do not understand," he said.
Xal'Zyren stepped forward, and as he did, reality formed beneath his feet. The battlefield stabilized, forced into existence by his very presence.
"You do not belong here," Xal'Zyren stated. "You were never meant to exist."
Noctis nodded. "And yet, here I am."
Xal'Zyren did not waste more words.
He lifted his hand, and with a single motion, he unleashed a force that could rewrite the very foundation of existence.
There was no fire. No storm of celestial light.
There was only definition.
Noctis Malphas would be given shape.
He would be forced into being.
He would be named, labeled, understood.
That was the attack. Not destruction, but imposition.
Noctis would no longer be nothing. He would become real.
The force struck him directly.
Noctis did not move.
Xal'Zyren watched carefully. He was expecting resistance. A counterattack. A distortion in the omniversal field.
Instead, Noctis simply remained undefined.
Xal'Zyren observed something impossible.
Noctis had not resisted the attack.
He had not negated it.
He had not undone it.
He had simply not acknowledged it.
As if the very concept of being affected was beyond his nature.
Xal'Zyren did not let this realization slow him. Instead, he shifted tactics.
The space around them collapsed and expanded at the same time. The battlefield stretched infinitely outward while also compressing into a single, absolute point.
There was no motion. No energy. No exchange of blows.
Instead, the very concept of distance and space was rewritten.
Noctis was now within Xal'Zyren's field of influence.
Reality bent.
Noctis, for the first time, reacted.
He tilted his head slightly, as if hearing something distant, something foreign.
A slight shift. Barely noticeable.
For Xal'Zyren, that was enough.
He moved.
The space between them folded instantly, allowing Xal'Zyren to close the distance in less than a thought.
He struck with absolute finality.
His fist connected—
And passed through nothing.
Noctis was not there.
Xal'Zyren's eyes flickered as he turned, and there Noctis stood, exactly where he had been before.
It was not teleportation.
It was not speed.
Noctis had simply never moved.
Because movement was a concept that did not apply to him.
Xal'Zyren exhaled softly. "I see."
Noctis regarded him. "You understand now."
Xal'Zyren did not answer immediately. Instead, he considered the implications. He had fought entities beyond comprehension before. Beings that existed outside time, outside fate, outside dimension.
But Noctis was not just beyond.
Noctis was not anything.
He was a paradox made real—a being whose very nature rejected the idea of existence itself.
Xal'Zyren's golden eyes burned brighter.
That meant there was only one way to defeat him.
If Noctis could not be erased, then he would have to be forced into reality.
Xal'Zyren raised his hand again. This time, his power surged outward, and the battlefield shifted.
Not with raw energy.
Not with destruction.
Not even with restoration.
Instead, Xal'Zyren imposed order.
The battlefield was no longer an undefined void. It was a place.
It had history.
It had purpose.
It had meaning.
Noctis stood still as the space around them became defined.
Xal'Zyren spoke.
"You exist."
For the first time, Noctis did not immediately reply.
Xal'Zyren stepped forward, golden flames forming behind him. The battlefield around them solidified further.
"You are real."
The air tensed.
"You are Noctis Malphas. You are the first of the Voidborn Legion. You are the Living Deletion. You are standing here, and I am standing here, and this battle is happening."
The world around them burned. Not with fire, but with absolute certainty.
Xal'Zyren had just given Noctis definition.
The formless void around him stabilized.
For the first time, Noctis felt the weight of being.
For the first time, Noctis knew he was real.
And for the first time—
Noctis was afraid.