Volume 01, Chapter 66
Maurice vs "André"
Maurice hovers in the air, his emerald eyes locked onto André—or, more precisely, the malevolent force pulling his strings. Crimson light shimmers in the depths of André's gaze, and a sinister grin curves his lips as the shadow scythe in his grasp pulses like a heartbeat, alive with dark energy.
Maurice’s jaw tightens as he extends his hand forward. “Luminous Spear!”
A barrage of radiant beams tears through the air, each one carrying deadly precision and power, illuminating the battlefield like falling stars.
But André moves with impossible speed, his figure a dark blur slicing through the sky. Each attack misses by a hair’s breadth as he weaves between the beams, his mocking laughter echoing across the ruins.
“Is that it, Maurice? You disappoint me—just like your pathetic father!” André sneers, his voice laced with venom.
The words strike like a dagger. Maurice’s breath hitches, and in that fleeting moment, he sees the ghost of his past: his father’s lifeless body, blood pooling beneath it, and the very same crimson eyes staring back at him with mocking finality. Rage ignites within him, a fire that burns through his veins and sharpens his resolve.
But there is no time to react. André materializes behind him, faster than thought itself. The shadow scythe howls as it slices through the air, narrowly missing Maurice’s neck.
THWACK!
André’s kick connects with brutal force, sending Maurice hurtling across the battlefield.
CRAAAASH!
Maurice collides with a stone wall, the impact sending cracks webbing outward as debris showers around him. A groan escapes his lips as he struggles to rise, his body screaming in protest. Pain blurs his vision, but he forces himself upright, determination etched into his every movement.
It isn’t enough. Before he can fully recover, André is already there, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger.
André reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of Maurice’s crimson hair as though savoring the moment. “Oh, don’t play coy,” he whispers, his voice a sickly blend of mockery and malice. “You’re his blood. I can feel it. Show me the monster you’ve been hiding—the truth of your lineage!”
Maurice’s emerald eyes narrow, his body trembling—not with fear, but with fury and confusion warring within. He spits through gritted teeth, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Before André can strike again, Maurice’s form shimmers and shatters, dissolving into a flock of luminous butterflies that flit through the air, glowing like fragments of a shattered star.
-THRUM!
A deep, otherworldly vibration fills the air, followed by a guttural tearing sound that seems to rip through existence. André’s smirk falters as he turns around. A black hole forms at the center of the ruined theater, its swirling mass distorting light and reality. The gravitational pull ripples through the air, dragging everything toward it mercilessly.
André’s grin returns, more sinister than before.
“Well, now we’re talking,” he mutters, his shadow wings unfurling with a sickening crack. He propels himself toward the vortex with a powerful flap, letting the black hole’s force pull him in faster. “But let me teach you something, Maurice—everything has an end.”
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As André approaches the event horizon, he closes his eyes. When they reopen, they burn with an unholy brilliance, his vision revealing the death lines—the death line crisscrossing even the black hole’s infinite void.
“Begone,” André whispers, his voice calm yet dripping with finality.
With an almost imperceptible flick of his scythe, he slices through the lines at a speed only a god could fathom. The black hole shudders, its overwhelming pull dissipating instantly as it collapses.
André floats in the silent aftermath, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph.
“Not bad, Maurice. But if this is your best…” He chuckles darkly, the scythe’s edge gleaming ominously. “Then you’ve already lost.”
-THOOOOOWWWW!
The theater groans, the space expanding outward as Maurice reforms behind André, the air now charged with his gathered Mana.
André’s eyes track the changes with a smirk. “Do you seriously think expanding the theater will save you?” He laughs, a sound devoid of joy. “This will end like every other universe… or life.”
The theater is filled with death lines. With a single, almost imperceptible swing of his scythe, he cuts through them at plank times.
The entire illusion shatters instantly, the theater crumbling away to reveal a gaping red void speckled with white stars that blink coldly.
Maurice’s eyes widen, sweat beading on his brow. “What have you done?”
André turns, sensing Maurice’s Mana. A triumphant smirk curls his lips.
“So, you’re still alive, huh?” André mocks, scanning the shifting void for his opponent.
“So, you’re still alive, huh?”
“Huh?!” André’s head snaps back, his eyes widening as he sees a version of himself standing opposite him, mirroring his words with the same smirk.
“Huh?!”
“Huh?!”
“Huh?!”
The scene repeats, and suddenly, infinite versions of André surround him, each one a replica, their voices overlapping in a dissonant chorus.
“What the hell is going on?”
“What the hell is going on?”
The question echoes endlessly as André’s confident facade wavers for the first time, confusion twisting his features as he stares into an abyss of infinite versions of himself, each locked in an eternal reflection.
André’s eyes dart around in confusion as he realizes something crucial—the death lines, the ominous harbingers of annihilation he has relied on for countless millennia, are nowhere to be seen. His pulse quickens with a feeling he hasn't experienced in centuries: uncertainty.
“Hahahaha!”
The mocking laughter cuts through the air, drawing André’s attention to Maurice, who stands unfazed, a victorious smirk on his face. The laughter grates on André’s nerves, fueling his irritation.
“What did you do?” André’s voice is sharp, tinged with an edge of desperation.
“What did you do?”
“What did you do?”
“What did you do?”
Maurice's smirk deepens, his green eyes glistening with a newfound resolve. The power shift is palpable.
“I just cast a spell—the ultimate spell of the Reél family,” Maurice declares, his voice resonating with authority. “Since you’re too strong for me, I decided to trick you.”
With a flourish, Maurice flicks his fingers, and a dark blue tophat adorned with a matching ribbon materializes. It hovers above his head before settling into place. The gesture is as theatrical as it is intimidating, fitting for the spell that has just turned the battle in his favor.
“Now, time for the finale of this show, shall we?” Maurice says, the corners of his mouth lifting into a knowing grin.
Rage bubbles in André’s chest. Maurice’s sudden confidence and relaxed demeanor are infuriating.
“You think this can stop me?! You’re wrong!” André roars, surging forward. His shadow wings unfurl, slicing through the void as he propels himself at Maurice with deadly speed. Yet, no matter how fast he flies, their distance remains unchanged.
‘What’s happening?’ the entity within André thinks. He, a being that has witnessed the birth and death of countless stars, has never encountered such a phenomenon.
Maurice chuckles, the sound reverberating through the infinite space of the shattered reality. “Now, for the final trick,” he says, his voice carrying an edge of finality.
He raises his hand, aiming it directly at André. With a quiet but powerful chant, he speaks the incantation: “!erdnA nihtiw ytitne eht ,peels ot oG”
André’s eyes widen as the words wash over him. Sudden, overwhelming drowsiness courses through his body and the red gleam in his eyes fade to their familiar, soft brown. The manic grin vanishes, replaced by a slack expression as consciousness disappears.
Maurice sighs in relief as André’s body limps, the shadow scythe dissolving into thin air. Swiftly, he flies toward André, catching him effortlessly in mid-air and cradling him gently.
“André…” Maurice whispers, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looks down at his former friend’s peaceful face. A bittersweet smile crosses his lips. The truth that has eluded him for years is now clear—it was not André who killed his father; it was the entity within.
For now, that darkness is subdued, and at this moment, Maurice allows himself the fragile hope that perhaps, one day, André can be saved from it entirely.
