Chaos' Heir

Chapter 1559: Three phases

Tremors that shook the very fabric of existence reached the Emperor’s ears. His organs churned under that unexpected pressure, worsening his state, opening countless internal injuries.

An immense external pressure also weighed on the Emperor, combining its power with the distant, unexpected attack, threatening to bring him down. Yet, he didn’t fall.

Something massive had unfolded on the other battlefield. Something equally great had filled the Emperor’s surroundings, but none of that ever affected his thoughts. His mind was clear, focused on a singular task.

Nothing but glowing, darker-than-black waves of darkness surrounded the Emperor, constantly washing over him and attempting to submerge him. He had never faced anything so great, but that couldn’t reach his thoughts, either.

Only the path forward existed, the trajectory the Emperor knew would bring him to his opponent. Everything else was superfluous. Everything else couldn’t have any meaning until the Emperor overcame that challenge.

The challenge had the shape of a worldwide tsunami that could submerge solar systems, so the Emperor had to focus the entirety of his existence on something far simpler. All of himself had condensed into the most basic action possible: a single step forward.

The rhythmical habits the Emperor had developed to contain his power reappeared to aid him. He broke down his counterattack into three phases that used all his power, making their execution as perfect as possible.

The first phase saw the Emperor thrust his arms forward. The second made him spread his limbs to clear the path, and the third wanted him to advance into that now-empty area.

That was all. One of the greatest, if not the greatest, existences in the regulated universe had condensed all his power into those three mundane gestures. The practice would almost be demeaning if it weren’t necessary.

Evolved warriors could summon magnificent attacks that defied reason, but the Emperor needed something else now. He required an efficient move that didn’t apply any mental strain so that he could repeat it endlessly.

That three-phased move was the best compromise. The Emperor didn’t need to think to perform it. He could automate his brain to continue reiterating it for all eternity.

Of course, the move wasn’t perfect. The parted pitch-black waters still pressed on the Emperor, attempting to blow him away and crush him, but that was the whole point behind his assault’s simplicity.

The methodical advance preserved the Emperor’s foothold while bringing him closer to his opponent. Everything else was about whether the Emperor would last until the worldwide tsunami ended.

So, the Emperor kept advancing, stuck in that self-imposed three-phased cycle. His state kept worsening, but he didn’t feel any pain. The pitch-black, glowing darkness never ended, but he experienced no despair. He had become a machine that couldn’t think and whose sole function was to step forward.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the worldwide tsunami, the Source remained in his place, standing atop a mountain of his own creation, his expression angry but solemn as his hands kept releasing True Chaos.

Truth be told, the Source had never expected the Emperor to manage to hurt him, especially on his face. His horns were a trademark of his species, a feature chosen by his great Father, so he couldn’t forgive himself for allowing his opponent to damage them.

Yet, there was little the Source could have done about that, hence the solemnity in his expression, which his perception deepened. He could sense what was happening inside his tsunami. Honestly, it was impossible not to due to its troubling echoes.

On the inside, the Emperor’s three-phased strategy could look simple, but the world had something else to say about that.

The Source sensed how each one of the Emperor’s steps displaced enough True Chaos to build celestial bodies. He was basically swimming his way through entire planets, inexorably getting closer to the one generating them.

Consequences that could destroy the environments in whole worlds unfolded inside the tsunami every time the Emperor took a step forward, and the Source could only watch him progress.

That wasn’t out of lack of alternatives. The Source was using his best attack, but he could rely on different battle strategies.

However, the battle had more at stake than mere victory. The Emperor had challenged the Source’s very divine legacy, and the latter couldn’t stop relying on it. It would be an admission of inferiority, which would be an insult to his godly Father.

So, the clash became about whether a lifeform born from an inferior energy could overcome a fraction of true divinity.

And, strangely, the Source found some peace in those existential but simple stakes. He and his opponent were doing their best, so everything became about the fundamental truth behind that clash. Its outcome would reveal who was truly superior between the True Chaos and the children of the mana.

That peace saved the Source from wearing unbefitting expressions when two bleeding, six-fingered hands pierced the flowing True Chaos before him.

The Source didn’t react even when those huge hands parted, pushing the True Chaos aside to reveal his battered opponent. The Emperor’s right eye was closed and bleeding. Blood vessels popped out all over his body, with many already burst open, but he was alive and stuck to his strategy.

The Source’s appearance didn’t surprise the Emperor, either. The latter showed no emotion as he took a step forward, occupying the area he had cleared with his strategy’s second phase.

Then, the Emperor simply repeated the cycle. He thrust his arms forward, and his fingers stabbed the Source’s chest. He spread his limbs, and his hands tore the alien apart.

Finally, the Emperor took another step, and his figure slammed into his maimed opponent, sending him flying away, blasting him into the distant ground.

The Source’s body broke during the crash. His open chest was damaged beyond repair, and the violent impact with the ground finished shattering it. His torso-less head flew away, only for a shadow to tower over it once it stopped.

The Emperor watched the head resting on the ground, and the latter looked back at him. A strange, understanding exchange of glances unfolded before the Emperor lifted his huge arm, delivering a descending, final punch.