gray vs merlin: 2 (chapter 171)

Chapter 171

Grey's gaze burned with infinite fury, the chaotic love magic within him intertwining with his Domain of Change. He extended his palm, and the boundaries of existence twisted. Abstract concepts — fear, time, love, death — took form as writhing serpents, slithering through the space between realities. Each one lunged at Merlin, their fangs dripping with paradox, eager to consume the ancient sorcerer. Merlin's eyes flashed, and a single word echoed from his lips, a command etched in the fabric of the cosmos. The serpents convulsed, their very essence rewritten until they became harmless wisps of mist. Yet even as they dissolved, Grey was upon him, fists crashing into Merlin's chest with the force of collapsing stars. The resulting shockwave ruptured distant galaxies, flinging planets into the void like scattered embers.

Merlin staggered, the force of Grey's blows reverberating through the very structure of the multiverse. But pain only ignited the ancient sorcerer's resolve. He extended his hands, and the laws of reality bent at his whim. Space and time twisted into a vortex, pulling Grey into a prison of infinite loops. Each loop was a lifetime, a thousand experiences that rewrote his memories with each passing instant. But Grey was Change. He devoured the endless cycles, reducing them to mere fragments before twisting them into power. With a roar, he tore free, shattering the prison and sending jagged shards of time cascading through the void. Merlin's grin remained unshaken as he raised his staff, unleashing a torrent of chaotic energies that burned away the very concept of resistance.

The collision was catastrophic. Energy surged without restraint, devouring everything in its path. Star systems disintegrated. Entire realms ceased to exist. Even the distant echoes of forgotten universes were consumed by the aftermath. Yet through the ruin, Grey and Merlin remained — their bodies scorched, their forms flickering between states of existence. Blood, dark and gleaming, dripped from Grey's mouth, though even his wounds seemed uncertain, shifting and reforming as his essence resisted permanence. Merlin, too, bore the marks of battle, cracks spiderwebbing across his form, his ancient body struggling to contain the vast power he wielded. But despite their injuries, neither yielded.

They hovered in the void, the remnants of their battlefield reduced to glowing embers drifting through nothingness. Their breathing was ragged, yet the fire in their eyes remained undimmed. Every motion had torn through the multiverse, their battle leaving irreversible scars on existence itself. Grey's hair, once fully red, flickered with threads of chaotic magic, and his thin black robe shifted like smoke. Merlin's once pristine robes were shredded, the weight of countless realities pressing against him. They glared at each other — not as mortal enemies, but as forces of nature, knowing the next clash could bring the end of all things. Yet, even in the silence that followed, the air crackled with the promise of renewed devastation.

The void twisted as Grey surged forward, his will unraveling the very concept of distance. In an instant, he was upon Merlin, his presence igniting the fabric of reality. Grey's fist struck, but the blow was not a mere collision of force. It fractured existence itself, sending echoes of the impact reverberating across infinite dimensions. Entire timelines ruptured, their past and future colliding into chaotic spirals. Yet Merlin was undeterred. He twisted the threads of those ruptured timelines, binding them into a sphere of shattered moments. With a flick of his fingers, he hurled the condensed paradox at Grey, the sphere devouring all logic in its wake.

Grey's eyes gleamed with untamed power as the sphere closed in. He reached out, not to destroy it, but to embrace it. His fingers twisted through the fabric of contradiction, and the sphere unraveled, its fragmented moments reborn. From the remnants, Grey crafted a storm of conceptual blades — weapons that could sever fate, identity, and existence itself. The blades screeched through the void, slicing through the boundaries between realities. Merlin's form flickered as he danced through the storm, each movement distorting the perception of time. The blades passed harmlessly, as though the moments of their existence were rewritten mid-flight. Yet even as Merlin evaded, the very concepts the blades had severed bled into the cosmos, birthing impossible anomalies that twisted the rules of reality.

Merlin's laughter echoed, resonating through countless worlds. He raised his hands, and from the echoes of forgotten dimensions, pillars of ancient thought erupted. Each pillar bore the weight of civilizations that had never been, their histories crashing into the present. The air groaned as the pillars merged, forming a labyrinth of shifting concepts. Every step Grey took twisted his perception — one moment he was a god of chaos, the next, a mortal lost within endless contradictions. Yet Grey's resolve never wavered. He inhaled deeply, and with that single breath, he consumed the labyrinth. Every concept, every fractured history, became fuel for his boundless power. The labyrinth collapsed, its meaning devoured and reshaped.

Merlin's eyes narrowed as Grey's form swelled with chaotic radiance. Unfazed, the ancient sorcerer traced a sigil in the air, its lines glowing with the essence of all knowledge. But the sigil was not magic. It was understanding itself — a construct that defined and governed existence. As it expanded, the laws of the multiverse aligned, forcing reality to conform. Grey's chaos faltered for a heartbeat, bound by the sheer authority of Merlin's will. Planets reformed, timelines realigned, and even the shattered remnants of destroyed dimensions recoiled back into place. But Grey was Change. The concept of stability was an insult to his very existence. With a snarl, he shattered the sigil, and the multiverse howled in protest as logic unraveled once more.

Merlin's expression twisted into something darker, his patience waning. He raised both hands, and from the deepest recesses of the void, a maelstrom of forgotten possibilities surged forth. Stars that had never shone, galaxies that had never formed, and entire realities that had been snuffed out before their birth collided into a singularity of raw existence. The mass pulsed, neither light nor shadow, a cacophony of all that could have been. With a gesture, Merlin unleashed it upon Grey. The wave crashed forward, threatening to erase even the concept of resistance. Grey did not retreat. Instead, he welcomed it. His form blurred as his Domain expanded once more, intertwining with the chaotic storm. Where the storm sought destruction, Grey gave it purpose. It bent, twisted, and obeyed. He wielded its raw existence like a weapon, a testament to his absolute dominion over Change.