Chapter 123 : The Burning Eternity

Scene 1 : The Burning Truth Will

The scene opens with Draco and Xeraphis standing face to face, both breathing heavily, their bodies battered from the intense battle.

Draco uses an ability named Raging Cataclysm unleashing an apocalyptic outburst of wrath and destruction upon Xeraphis. This severely damages Xeraphis.

Xeraphis uses an ability Death's Fist and he punches Draco with the powers of Death and the underworld

The two stare at each other eyeing each other down.

Xeraphis : (smirks,impressed) "You're stronger that I thought."

Draco : "And you're just as useless as I thought."

Xeraphis laughs and the two look at each other waiting for the other to attack first.

Scene 2 : Narrative Control of Agony

[Draco decides to summons his sword, the Blade of Erasure, its edge radiating with the power to erase a character's narrative itself.]

Draco (gritting his teeth): "This ends now, Xeraphis!"

With a burst of speed, Draco lunges forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Xeraphis, unphased, raises his hand, activating an ability named "Death's Rewrite."

Xeraphis (smirking): "Rewrite. Vanish."

For a moment, the world seems to glitch around Draco as the force of narrative alteration hits him. He stumbles, feeling an unbearable wave of pain course through his very essence, but nothing else changes.

Xeraphis (mockingly): "Hah! Even your sword can't protect you from true narrative control."

Xeraphis dashes forward, unleashing a relentless barrage of punches and kicks, each strike landing with the weight of worlds. Draco is forced back, blood trailing from his mouth. Just as Xeraphis prepares for a finishing blow, Draco grins.

Draco (grinning through pain): "You're forgetting one thing, Xeraphis... my will."

Draco sidesteps and slashes with the Blade of Erasure. The moment the edge grazes Xeraphis, the Tyrant of Death freezes, eyes wide in horror as unimaginable pain surges through his body.

Xeraphis (screaming): "W-What is this?! This... agony!"

Draco doesn't stop. He unleashes a flurry of slashes—100 consecutive strikes—each cut deeper than the last, leaving Xeraphis battered, bleeding, and barely standing.

Scene 3 : Draco's Supremacy

Xeraphis (panting, desperate): "I won't fall here! Abyssal Drainage!"

Dark tendrils extend from Xeraphis' body, latching onto Draco and rapidly draining his stamina down to a conceptual level. Draco's knees buckle, his strength fading with each passing second.

Draco collapses to one knee, vision blurring. He's moments from defeat until an image flashes in his mind—Wednesday, the peaceful verses he swore to protect, and the dream of unity across all realities.

Draco (gritting his teeth, voice rising): "No... I won't let it end like this!"

With a thunderous scream, Draco taps into the core of his being—his willpower pushing him beyond his limits. In an instant, he fully masters his pocket dimension, a personal realm governed entirely by his authority.

The sky fractures as Draco opens a rift and drags Xeraphis into the pocket dimension. Both land on a floating platform surrounded by endless flames.

Draco (eyes glowing, voice echoing with absolute control): "This is my domain now. My story. My rules."

Draco stands tall, the energy of his restored stamina and concepts radiating around him. Xeraphis, bleeding and struggling to rise, chuckles weakly.

Xeraphis (grinning): "Fool... my narrative can't be rewritten. You can't strip me of who I am!"

Draco (calmly): "That's true—out there. But here? I am the Author."

With a wave of his hand, Draco systematically strips Xeraphis of all his powers, abilities, resistances, concepts, and divine authority—leaving only his cursed immortality intact.

Xeraphis (panicking, trembling): "No... this can't be happening..."

Draco calmly creates a small, isolated sector within the dimension—a confined space where time, space, and escape are non-existent. Flames, hotter than the infernos of hell itself, flicker to life around the pocket.

Draco (coldly): "You claimed to be the Tyrant of Death, Suffering, and Pain. Now you'll learn the true meaning of suffering—eternal burning without end, without escape."

With a final gesture, Draco flings Xeraphis into the burning sector. Xeraphis screams, clawing at the air, but the walls of the dimension seal shut. The flames rise, consuming him forever.

Xeraphis (screaming, voice fading): "Dracooooo! This... can't... be... my... fate!"

Draco, breathing heavily but victorious, watches the flames flicker within the sealed sector. He lowers his sword and looks toward the horizon of his pocket dimension.

Draco (softly): "The verses are safe. One tyrant down... countless more to go."

The scenery fades to black as Draco exits his pocket dimension, his resolve stronger than ever.

To Be Continued...

Narrator (Voice Echoing Through the Void):

And so, the battlefield falls silent. The once-proud Tyrant of Death, stripped of his dominion, burns eternally within a prison crafted not by fate, but by the unyielding will of a warrior who refused to break.

Draco stands victorious—not because his strength surpassed all, but because his spirit remained unshaken. Against power that could rewrite existence itself, he forged his own narrative, one where tyranny could not prevail and suffering met its final reckoning.

The air is thick with the remnants of battle. The ground, fractured and scarred, bears witness to the clash between absolute dominance and unwavering defiance. Blood and ashes mix with the dust, but amidst the ruin, a lone figure rises—not as a conqueror, but as a survivor, a protector, a burning truth no force could extinguish.

Draco lowers the Blade of Erasure, its glow dimming as peace momentarily returns. His breathing slows, each inhale drawing in the weight of hard-fought triumph. Yet, victory tastes bitter, for he knows the cycle never truly ends. The multiverse is vast, and power, like ambition, is a flame that never dies. For every tyrant that falls, another watches from the shadows, sharpening their blade, preparing to claim the throne left behind.

The pocket dimension around him shimmers, reflecting fragments of countless realities. Some peaceful, others torn apart by war. In the far distance, whispers echo—voices of those still oppressed, still waiting for someone to stand between them and annihilation. Draco hears them, not as mere sounds, but as promises unfulfilled, as battles yet to be fought.

He looks toward the sealed prison where Xeraphis' screams have long since faded into silence. The flames within flicker endlessly, fueled by the very essence of suffering Xeraphis once inflicted on countless lives. There is no escape, no redemption—only a fate fitting for one who reveled in the agony of others.

But Draco takes no pleasure in the punishment he delivered. His path was never about vengeance. It was about balance, about ensuring that power, unchecked and merciless, would never again reign supreme. The Blade of Erasure hums quietly in his hand, as though acknowledging the weight of the task still ahead.

He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing the silence to wash over him. Memories flash through his mind—friends lost, worlds saved, the countless sacrifices made along the way. Each scar on his body, each ache in his soul, tells a story not of conquest, but of resilience.

"But peace, like light at dusk, is fleeting. Where one tyrant falls, another rises. The multiverse is boundless, its threads interwoven with ambition, fear, and desire. For every Draco who stands to protect, countless Xeraphises wait in the dark, ready to claim dominion over the weak. Such is the nature of existence—the eternal dance of power and resistance."

"Yet, in every era, there emerges one who defies fate, whose will burns brighter than the stars themselves. Draco, bearer of the Burning Truth, stands not because he must, but because he chooses to. His strength is not in his blade, but in his heart, in the unwavering conviction that no tyrant shall rule while he draws breath."

As Draco steps out of his pocket dimension, the fractured sky above slowly mends itself, reality breathing once more. The world resets, but the scars remain—a testament to the battle fought and the truth that prevailed.

Draco looks to the horizon, where the first light of dawn touches the ruins of the battlefield. He knows this peace is temporary, a mere pause in the unending struggle. But he does not fear what comes next. For as long as injustice rises, as long as tyranny threatens the innocent, the Burning Truth will rise to meet it, unyielding, unstoppable.

"Evil rises where vigilance fades. And so long as the flames of defiance burn within him, Draco will stand—a sentinel against the darkness, an author of his own fate, and a living testament to the truth that no power, no tyrant, can ever truly erase."

To be continued…