The Abyssal Throne

Akamatsu stood at the edge of oblivion, his crimson eyes burning with the weight of his fate. The Devil's power still clung to him, whispering promises of dominance, of ultimate strength. He had won the battle, but victory had not freed him—it had bound him in ways he had never anticipated.

The darkness coiled around him like chains, tightening with every breath he took. The battlefield was now a realm of endless void, stretching beyond comprehension. The Devil's presence had faded, but its influence remained, lingering in the very essence of existence.

He clenched his fists. The multiverse trembled at his presence, each timeline bending, warping under his gaze. He could see them all, every possible outcome, every road untaken. He had become something beyond mortal, beyond godly—yet, a part of him still remained trapped within the abyss.

Akamatsu knew what he had to do.

He raised his hand, channeling his power. The void twisted, resisting him at first, then relenting under the force of his will. He reached into the depths of reality itself, tearing apart the limitations that had once defined him.

"No more chains," he whispered.

The abyss shrieked in protest, black flames erupting around him. From the depths, a monstrous entity emerged—a shadow of the Devil itself, reborn in the absence of its master. It towered over him, an embodiment of chaos and destruction.

Akamatsu smirked. "You again?"

The entity lunged. With a single step, Akamatsu shattered space itself, moving faster than perception. He appeared behind the creature, his hand gripping its core before it could react. The shadow screeched as he crushed its essence, reducing it to nothingness.

But the void was relentless.

From every corner, more entities arose, countless in number, drawn by his power. The multiverse had rejected balance. It demanded chaos. It sought a ruler.

And Akamatsu refused to bow.

He unleashed a pulse of raw energy, sending shockwaves through all existence. The void buckled, the creatures dissolving before they could reach him. But the cost was great—reality itself trembled, fracturing under the weight of his actions.

A choice stood before him. To rule or to destroy. To embrace the abyss or to fight against it.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then, from the remnants of his past, a voice called out.

"Akamatsu… don't lose yourself."

He turned. A flicker of light in the darkness. A memory? A spirit? He couldn't tell. But it was enough. He focused his will, forging a path through the void, carving his own destiny.

With one final strike, he severed the abyss's hold on him, reclaiming his power fully.

The void shattered.

And Akamatsu stood alone—free, at last, but knowing the battle for his soul was far from over.