Chapter 84: The Dance of Destruction

Thunder tore through the darkened sky, and rain hammered the earth as if to mark the rhythm of a titanic battle. Before them stood Zramë, God of Destruction, motionless, his gaze distant and disdainful. His aura consumed space itself, making dimensions tremble. Yet, facing this cosmic terror, three warriors lined up: Jin Muleo, Lingyin, and Niyus.

Jin Muleo: Let's go!!!

Jin Muleo was the first to move. His figure vanished in a blazing flash, leaving a trail of celestial fire behind him. He struck Zramë with a fist charged with blue draconic energy, but the impact only made the air around the god waver.

Lingyin appeared simultaneously on the other side, hands forming an ancient seal. A dragon of pure light burst forth, roaring with ancestral fury. It dove at Zramë, but he lazily raised a hand, and the invocation exploded into a shower of white sparks.

Between them, Niyus surged forward. His body shone with golden patterns and celestial shards, a crown of divine energy spinning around his head. He charged, piercing space and breaking logic.

Niyus: Take this!!!

He struck Zramë with such force that reality bent momentarily around them.

Zramë staggered... but smiled. With a simple motion, a flick of his hand, he sent Niyus into a secondary dimension, marking his chest with a seal that seemed to lock his powers.

Zramë: You are no match for destruction!

The battle erupted with sacred violence. The very air seemed to burn under the first shockwave. The once peaceful skies shattered like glass under the pressure of immeasurable power. Jin was the first to move, his eyes burning with golden light. He dashed forward, tracing a trail of pure light in the void, and his fist, charged with draconic energy, sliced through space toward Zramë. The strike was not just fast: it bent the laws of motion, twisting time to hit first and only then make sound.

Zramë parried with a flick of his hand. A simple gesture. But the ensuing shock tore a fragment of reality—the colors screamed, expanding into incoherent spirals. Lingyin appeared at that moment, his steps drawing runic circles on the fractured ground. He leapt into the air, spinning, and formed between his palms a glowing spiral: a miniature star made of stellar flames and arcane wind. He launched it without warning. The projectile did not fly; it devoured space, sucking light and sound in its wake.

Zramë: Huh...

Zramë stepped back not out of fear, but calculation. He tapped the void with a finger, and the star disintegrated not into ashes, but into letters. Into signs. It was reduced to a primitive alphabet, as if it had only ever been a word he refused to read.

Lingyin: This can't be!!!

Jin Muleo: Stay focused!!!

Jin and Lingyin exchanged a glance, their movements accelerating in unison. They charged at him, their breaths mingled, their wills woven into a single thread. Jin struck from above, his legs crackling with golden lightning, aiming for the throat. Lingyin burst from the ground like a geyser of light, arms extended toward the enemy's heart. Each strike was synchronized, a millimeter-perfect deadly dance.

But Zramë did not retreat. His movements were not fast; they were absolute. Wherever his fingers passed, laws bent. He did not respond with brute force but with the negation of the opponent's very existence. He spoke by striking. He thought by breaking. Each flick of his palm erased an attack like crossing out a wrong sentence.

Their cries, their breaths, their pulses were no longer those of fighters. They were souls ready to burn in war.

Jin Muleo and Lingyin paused and exchanged a look.

Lingyin: I think it's time... Jin.

Jin Muleo nodded and said,

Jin Muleo: Let's go.

Lingyin closed his eyes, then opened them with rage and determination.

Lingyin: Aaaaaaahhhh!!!!

Lingyin roared, and his cry was not just anger; it was the millennial echo of a forgotten lineage. His body transformed in a chaotic choreography of bone, flesh, and light. Iridescent scales erupted from his chest, shimmering like shards of the northern lights, while his arms lengthened, muscled by reptilian strength. Fine horns sprouted from his temples, pulsing with golden light. His eyes, once human, became slitted dragon eyes, glowing with the wisdom and fury of the ancients.

Facing him, Jin Muleo sighed and closed his eyelids. When he reopened them, his eyes were two galaxies in rotation, filled with dying stars and newborn constellations. He stretched out his arms, and the air vibrated: he had merged with the spirit of an astral dragon. His hair floated in a nonexistent wind, and celestial runes appeared on his skin like living tattoos. Each heartbeat resonated like a gravitational wave.

Niyus, kneeling, slowly raised his head and smiled.

Niyus: You guys are amazing.

He stood up awkwardly and fell silent for a moment.

A shiver passed through the air. The seal on his chest cracked, then disintegrated into white light.

Two wings unfolded with a dull roar, as if the sky itself was splitting. They were not made of feathers but of pure divine energy, shifting and bending physical laws. In his gaze shone something else: a painful understanding, a cold certainty. He was not fighting to win, but to eradicate.

They rose as one. Their breaths synchronized.

Then they struck.

Lingyin launched an upward strike, his claws covered in draconic fire that bit into reality.

Jin melted into space, teleporting with each cosmic beat, his fist radiating stellar power.

Niyus crossed his arms, his wings folding briefly as he concentrated both dark and luminous energy. When he spread them, a silent beam shot forth.

Niyus: Divinus Nihilatio.

The attack made no sound, but everything it touched became absence absence of thought, history, memory.

Their forces fused in a synesthetic explosion: sounds, colors, and pain intertwined. The sky shattered into fractal shards, like an invisible mosaic collapsing. At the center of this maelstrom, Zramë was sucked in, distorted, torn from the fabric of the world. His scream was swallowed before it could exist.

Jin pushed, muscles strained to the extreme. Lingyin screamed still, his body cracking under the pressure. Niyus bled from his eyes, ears, and core, but he held on. Held on to annihilate an entity that should never have existed.

Then suddenly, everything stopped.

No wind.

No sky.

Zramë was gone.

Their energies vanished, and they were breathless in an unknown void.

They returned to their normal forms, looking battered.

Jin Muleo (smiling): I can't believe it, we defeated him!!

Niyus and Lingyin smiled simultaneously, showing relief and lightness.

Jin Muleo: Haha, we did it, we really defeated him, guys!

Niyus: Honestly, I'm relieved it's finally over.

Lingyin: Let's go home now.

They reappeared on Earth, kneeling. Jin gasped, clutching his bleeding arm, each breath a struggle.

Lingyin collapsed beside him, clothes torn, skin streaked with burns and cuts, but his eyes still shone with undefeated light and relief.

Niyus, face smeared with dried blood, staggered to his feet, his look a mix of disbelief and pride.

Rivhiamë rushed over, her steps echoing on cracked earth. She fell to her knees, her heart crying in the silence. Jin gave her a pale, almost unreal smile.

Lingyin whispered hoarsely: "He's... gone."

Rivhiamë smiled, eyes full of hope, joy, and pride.

Rivhiamë: Haha, you guys are the best!!

Niyus: It's the first time I've fought so hard, my body is in pieces.

Jin Muleo: Same here, and to think I was going to settle things with you afterward.

Niyus (smiling): Hahaha, what a shame.

But their words were cut short. The air seemed to contract. The world held its breath.

A piercing sound sliced reality like glass. Zramë had reappeared.

Zramë: Pffff.

He descended from the skies slowly, majestically, as if gravity itself bent beneath his presence. No breath on his skin, no blood on his black cloak. Cosmic indifference incarnate.

Zramë: Truly pathetic.

His voice echoed like a death knell.

Jin stood trembling. "This can't be..."

Niyus stammered, horrified: "Even his chōshinku... destroyed... but..."

Zramë extended a hand. It seemed to pass through planes of existence. A black flash—not light, but absence—blazed forth. It did not strike; it devoured.

The Dragon warriors and their tribe vanished except Jin Muleo and Lingyin. Not just their bodies—their very history was torn away.

They noticed it; Niyus too.

Jin Muleo (trembling voice): No... this... this is impossible.

Niyus: Princess Amu...

Jin screamed.

Zramë: This is your punishment for defying Destruction!

Lingyin let out a silent scream, his heart shattered. Their feet rooted in rage, their eyes blazing with loss. They lunged forward.

Niyus tried to stop them.

Niyus: No, don't do this!!!

Jin struck with a broken sword, each move an act of desperate love. Lingyin leapt, his fist aflame, the air around him molten.

But Zramë barely dodged. He moved in the in-between, between gesture and intention.

Shadow spears erupted. One pierced Jin from collarbone to stomach, his flesh evaporating around the wound. Another wrapped around Lingyin's wrist, breaking his spirit channel, then pierced his chest. Their essence was frozen not by pain, but by the halt of their very meaning.

They fell, not broken, but emptied.

Rivhiamë was afraid. Niyus, crawling, arm dislocated, approached. He did not scream. He looked. And in that look was the weight of a lost world.

Niyus: Damn!!

Zramë descended further, eyes impassive. "This is the end for you all."

He set foot on the ground.

And the Earth, unable to bear his declaration, began to collapse.