Fractured Existence

The void around Akamatsu twisted unnaturally, its very fabric straining under the weight of his unstable presence. His body still crackled with demonic energy, remnants of his battle against the Devil. Though he had triumphed, the cost was undeniable—his very essence had been tainted. No longer purely divine, no longer fully in control.

Akamatsu stood at the center of a crumbling reality. Shattered timelines flickered around him, colliding and reforming in an endless cycle of destruction and rebirth. Echoes of battles long past rippled through the void, distorted images of himself reliving moments that no longer existed. The multiverse was unraveling, and at its heart stood its fractured guardian.

He clenched his fists, suppressing the dark whispers gnawing at the edge of his mind. The Devil's power still lingered within him, an intoxicating force that threatened to consume his remaining humanity. He knew that if he succumbed, if he let the corruption take hold, he would become the very thing he had fought to destroy.

But hesitation was a luxury he could not afford.

A deep tremor rumbled through the void, and from the fractured space, a new force emerged. The sky of the broken reality darkened as countless figures materialized—beings not of any known timeline but echoes of forgotten universes. Their bodies shimmered, some incomplete, others distorted as if struggling to maintain form in the unstable reality.

Akamatsu's golden-crimson eyes narrowed. He could sense the presence behind them, a will that rivaled the Devil's but existed beyond even the concept of time. From the swirling abyss, a towering figure stepped forth—a creature wrapped in flowing obsidian robes, its face obscured by an ever-shifting mask of the cosmos.

"I am Eryon," the entity spoke, its voice layered with a thousand echoes. "The Architect of the Forgotten. And you, Akamatsu, have shattered the balance."

Akamatsu's grip tightened around the void-forged blade that had formed in his hand, a reflection of his unstable power. "Balance? The Devil sought to corrupt everything. I ended him."

Eryon's form flickered, splitting momentarily into multiple versions of itself before reassembling. "You did not end him, Akamatsu. You became him."

Akamatsu's breath hitched. The words burned because he feared them to be true. The power coursing through his veins, the hunger in his soul—it was not his alone. He had inherited something far beyond his control.

Before he could respond, the echoes surged forward. Wraiths of lost timelines, warriors who had perished in alternate realities, fragments of his own past selves—each one wielding power that defied logic. They attacked without hesitation, their strikes seamless, as if guided by an unseen force.

Akamatsu moved on instinct, his blade carving through the distorted beings with precision. Each swing unraveled the echoes, but for every one that fell, another took its place. He weaved between them, his movements faster than light, faster than thought, yet the swarm pressed on.

Eryon watched from above, observing without interfering. "You cannot defeat them, Akamatsu. You are fighting against the weight of all existence. The multiverse does not want you."

With a snarl, Akamatsu unleashed a wave of black and gold energy, disintegrating dozens of echoes in a single burst. He turned his glare toward the Architect. "Then I'll force it to accept me."

Eryon lifted a hand, and the very concept of time fractured around Akamatsu. Suddenly, he found himself reliving moments from different timelines—times when he was victorious, times when he had lost everything, times when he had never existed at all. The weight of infinite possibilities crushed down on him, threatening to drown his mind in an abyss of uncertainty.

He dropped to one knee, gasping as reality warped. The dark power within him pulsed, thriving in the chaos. It whispered a single, tempting promise:

Give in.

Akamatsu gritted his teeth. He would not be controlled. He would not be erased. He reached deep within, past the corruption, past the doubt, and seized the one truth that had always guided him—his will.

With a roar, he shattered the illusion, his body surging with newfound strength. His aura stabilized, no longer erratic but fully his own. The corruption remained, but he had bent it to his will. He stood, his presence now undeniable, his power now absolute.

Eryon tilted its head, as if intrigued. "You are… different."

Akamatsu smirked. "I am what comes after gods and demons."

The echoes hesitated for the first time, sensing the shift in power. Akamatsu raised his blade, pointing it at the Architect.

"Now," he said, voice carrying across the collapsing multiverse, "let's see if you can stop me."

And with that, the battle for existence truly began.