Gray vs Merlin(chapter 170)
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A/N sorry for the late update, check out my other fanfic, the moiety of magic
Chapter 170
But Merlin moved with a grace that defied understanding. With a flick of his wrist, the attack dissolved — not blocked, not dodged, but simply unmade. The force that could have shattered planets vanished like mist in the sun. Merlin's smile widened. "Good," he murmured. "Very good." And then the battle began. Grey lashed out with a gesture, and the very concept of fire erupted from his hand — not flame, but the essence of combustion itself. It roared forth as an all-consuming wave, igniting not just matter but the space-time around them. Galaxies trembled at its birth. Merlin responded with a snap of his fingers, and the fire became water — an endless ocean that drowned the inferno, then froze solid, forming a continent of ice that stretched into the void.
They clashed again — and the universe screamed. Grey willed gravity to collapse inward, creating a singularity that dragged light and time into its maw. Merlin tapped his staff against the ground, and the black hole inverted, spitting reality back out in a kaleidoscope of colors and sound. Grey twisted space itself, folding dimensions and unleashing a storm of fractured existence. Merlin met it with a word, and the storm became stillness — a perfect, terrible silence. Every exchange sent ripples across the cosmos, and entire solar systems were wiped from existence as collateral damage. Planets cracked and shattered, their remains swirling into the maelstrom of their battle.
Grey surged forward, his form shifting — one moment flesh, the next energy, the next pure concept. He struck with the force of collapsing stars, his fists breaking through the limits of physics. Merlin met him with equal ferocity, his magic rewriting the rules of reality with every gesture. Time unraveled, the past and future bleeding into the present as their power warped causality itself. With every blow, the fabric of the multiverse strained, and somewhere distant, entire dimensions collapsed under the weight of their battle. They were gods, and the very cosmos trembled beneath their wrath.
Their battle spilled beyond the confines of any single dimension, bleeding into the spaces between realities — a clash of concepts so vast that existence itself quivered at their fury. Grey struck first, his hand slicing through the air and severing not space, but the idea of space. The wound bled nothingness, a gaping gash that swallowed entire star systems, erasing them from history as though they had never been. Merlin responded with a breath — a simple exhalation — and from his lips poured a wind of creation, birthing new galaxies in the void, their formation so violent that the shockwaves shattered nearby dimensions. The two forces collided, and the impact rippled across the multiverse, rewriting the laws of physics in their wake.
Grey's eyes burned with shifting colors as he raised his hand, and the concept of time froze. Entire realities ground to a halt, light suspended in place, the flow of causality locked in perfect stillness. But Merlin merely smiled. With a flick of his fingers, time splintered — one moment racing forward, the next reversing, then folding in on itself in endless recursion. The universe shattered under the strain, fragments of broken timelines falling like glass shards, each one showing a different version of reality. Grey lashed out with a thought, and those fragments became weapons, each one an entire existence compressed into a single sliver of infinite possibility. They flew toward Merlin with the weight of countless lifetimes, but the ancient sorcerer raised a hand, and the shards dissolved into light.
The clash escalated. Grey reached into the fabric of reality and twisted, folding dimensions like paper and hurling them at his foe. Entire worlds collided in the storm, their destruction birthing new forces that spiraled into chaos. Merlin answered with a gesture, and those dimensions unraveled, their energy reshaped into a wave of potential that surged forward, threatening to overwrite Grey's very existence. But Grey was Change, and he met the wave head-on, his body shifting through states of being — flesh, energy, thought, and concept — until he absorbed the force and reshaped it into power. With a single step, he crossed the distance between them, his fist crashing toward Merlin's face with the weight of collapsing stars.
The impact shattered reality. Dimensions rippled and burst, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through existence itself. Entire planes of existence crumbled, their destruction birthing new realms in the aftermath. Merlin staggered — but only for a moment. His eyes gleamed with infinite wisdom as he raised his staff and struck. The blow was more than physical — it was a command, a declaration of authority that demanded obedience from the very fabric of reality. Grey felt it hit him, not his body, but his essence, the force of it rewriting his existence on a fundamental level. He roared, and the sound broke worlds, his defiance reshaping the attack into fuel for his own power.
Their fight became a storm of creation and destruction, a dance of gods that tore through the multiverse without end. Grey reached out, and the concept of gravity obeyed, collapsing entire dimensions into singularities that dragged existence into oblivion. Merlin countered with a thought, turning those singularities into seeds of new creation, each one blossoming into universes that spun into the void. They fought beyond time, their battle echoing through past, present, and future all at once. Every strike reshaped the cosmos, every clash birthing new realities or ending old ones. And still, they pushed further, their power growing with every exchange, as two beings who embodied change and omnipotence fought for the right to shape existence itself.
The fabric of existence trembled as Grey and Merlin collided once more, their clash sending ripples that shattered countless realities. Grey's form blurred, shifting between human and concept, his presence rewriting the rules of existence wherever he stood. With a single motion, he dragged entire dimensions from the void, compressing them into spears of condensed possibility. They screamed as they tore through the emptiness, their arrival birthing new timelines that spiraled uncontrollably. Merlin raised his hand, his will manifesting as threads of golden light that wove through the spears. The dimensions unraveled mid-flight, each one reshaped into fragments of potential before vanishing into the ether. Yet even this act of creation brought destruction; nearby star systems collapsed under the strain, their light extinguished without ceremony.