The sky was utterly, completely dark. An oppressive silence reigned supreme, broken only by the distant crackle of dying embers. Below, a panorama of absolute devastation stretched into the infinite blackness. Everything lay shattered, reduced to unrecognizable ruin. Everything burned with the cold fire of finality. Every being was dead. Above, not a single star pierced the void; planets and galaxies themselves were actively being unmade, dissolving into the encroaching nothingness.
The entire fabric of the universe trembled, shaken to its core by the relentless shockwaves generated from the cataclysmic clash of two beings. One was a man with wild yellow hair and eyes of a blue more pure and piercing than glacial water. He was covered in blood, yet wore a terrifying, exhilarated smile as he fought. Opposing him was an entity completely shrouded in a writhing aura of purest darkness, its only visible features two malevolent points of crimson light – its eyes.
They battled amidst the incomprehensible vastness, surrounded by swirling nebulae and the colossal structures of thousands of galaxies, each trillions upon trillions of times larger than they were. This immense scale rendered the two combatants insignificant, like ants lost in an endless cosmic desert.
The force unleashed with every impact between them did not merely destroy; it erased. Matter, energy, space itself was annihilated upon contact, leaving behind only expanding voids of pure non-existence. The dark entity spoke, its voice a heavy, resonant bass that vibrated through the void, laden with menace. A cruel smile of amusement touched its unseen features. "Tell me, why would a mere mortal persist in trying to fight a Demi-God? When you know you cannot defeat me?"
The yellow-haired man grinned back, his own smile fierce and joyful despite his wounds. "It's just for fun, nothing more." He raised a fist, energy coalescing around it with blinding intensity. "Because there's nothing more fun than fighting in this world! And my dream is to defeat all seven of the Demi-gods!" His voice rang out, clear and defiant. "Remember my name – Arno Valdian!" With a roar, he launched his attack. "**Reality Breaker!**"
The Demi-God flowed aside with impossible grace, the annihilating fist passing harmlessly through the space he had occupied a microsecond before. Yet, the shockwave generated by the missed blow tore outward. It was a wave of pure oblivion, erasing every star, planet, and galaxy unfortunate enough to lie in its path, carving a new, terrifying scar of void across the cosmos.
"Your audacity impresses me, mortal," the Demi-God conceded, his voice devoid of its earlier amusement, now flat and final. "You are the only one who dared. But this ends now. I tire of this game; boredom has claimed me." He gestured dismissively. "I think I should finish it."
Instinct screamed at Arno. Without conscious thought, he propelled himself backward, putting vast cosmic distances between them in an instant.
The Demi-God raised one hand. From the coalescing darkness above his palm, a sword manifested. It was not metal, but solidified shadow, radiating an aura of such profound negation that the very space surrounding it ceased to exist, erased by its mere presence. The darkness deepened, concentrated, hungry.
"This," the Demi-God intoned, the words resonating with finality, "is the END of you."
He swung the blade. It was not a movement of muscle, but a fundamental command. Darkness, absolute and all-consuming, exploded outward. It swallowed the light, the burning ruins, the distant galaxies, the very concept of space. Arno, the void, the shockwaves, the remnants of stars – everything ceased to exist. The universe, in its entirety, was unmade. Only an infinite, silent, spaceless void remained. Nothing more.
"Foolish mortal," the Demi-God's voice echoed, disembodied, within the endless realm of pure darkness he now inhabited alone. "Thinking they could defeat a Demi-God." A flicker of something akin to respect touched the thought. "But he *was* able to keep up... that alone is impressive." The respect vanished, replaced by cold detachment. "Yet again, I have erased another universe from the Multi-verse."
He stood silently, an eternal figure contemplating the spaceless, timeless void. A faint, speculative curiosity stirred within him. "I wonder... if he survived." He analyzed the act of unmaking. "I erased his physical body and extinguished his powers... but not his soul." A pause stretched in the non-time. "There is a chance... a slim chance... he might still linger."
***
Simultaneously, yet impossibly distant, within a realm of pure, serene white light, Arno opened his eyes. He stood upon a surface that felt like solidified peace, in a place reminiscent of a heavenly paradise – beautiful, tranquil, and vast. Before him stood a boy. He looked ordinary: black hair, black eyes, an unremarkable appearance radiating confusion and fear.
"Who are you?" Arno asked, his voice retaining its deep timbre, though stripped of its battle-fury.
The boy flinched slightly. "I-I'm Zhou Fang," he stammered. "I was... being bullied... then my consciousness faded away. When I opened my eyes... I was here." He looked around wildly, his voice trembling with a cocktail of terror, bewilderment, and despair. "What *is* this place?"
Arno scanned the luminous emptiness. "I don't know. Probably heaven." He shrugged, a gesture incongruous with the setting. "Well, maybe not. Given how many people I killed, I should be roasting in Hell." His tone was matter-of-fact.
"T-This can't be!" Zhou Fang's voice cracked. He dropped heavily to his knees, clutching his head as if trying to contain an explosion of panic. His thoughts raced, frantic and overwhelming. "I have a little sister! She needs me! I can't die! I *can't*!"
"It doesn't matter now," Arno stated flatly. "You *are* dead." He attempted to sit down, but instead, his form began to float gently a few inches above the luminous ground. "Whoa!" Surprise momentarily replaced his grim demeanor. "What's happening? Huh. It's... fun." He experimentally shifted his weightless form. "This place is good. Quiet. Peaceful. But..." His expression soured. "It's boring. If I can't even fight anyone, what's the point?"
Zhou Fang looked up, tears welling in his eyes, his head throbbing with the intensity of his worry. "You're talking about having *fun*? And I'm here worried sick about my sister! Can't you be a bit worried about *me*?"
Arno floated silently for a moment, observing the distraught boy. An idea, cold and pragmatic, formed. "If you worry about your sister *that* much," he said slowly, deliberately, "how about... I fuse with your soul?"
Zhou Fang blinked, confusion cutting through his panic. "What do you mean by that? Fuse... souls?"
"I mean," Arno explained, his voice calm, "we perform a ritual. It's called The Merger. Beings who have died can fuse their souls through this ritual. As far as I understand..." He gestured around at the white void. "...this place might be the Second Dream. Since we are souls now."
"I don't understand *anything*!" Zhou Fang protested, his confusion deepening. "What do you mean by 'Second Dream'? Are we inside some kind of dream or something?" He looked around the impossible whiteness, seeking answers it wouldn't give.
"I don't know much about dreams either," Arno admitted. "But I know *this* is called the Second Dream because it's a realm where *only* souls can exist. It's devoid of space and time. That's all I know."
"I still don't understand," Zhou Fang whispered, overwhelmed. "But... if we fuse our souls... how will that make sense? If we both are inside the same body... won't it be impossible to control? Won't we fight?"
"You might be right," Arno conceded. "But I want to ask one thing. Would you mind... if *I* protected your sister... while being inside *your* body?" He leaned forward slightly in his floating position. "I just want to fight. Nothing more. So, to keep fighting, I need to be alive – which I am not, right now. If I get access to *your* body... I can still fight, still have fun... *while* protecting your sister. Your wish, fulfilled through me."
Zhou Fang stared at him, the impossible offer hanging in the luminous air. The image of his sister's face, small and vulnerable, filled his mind's eye. The crushing weight of knowing he could never return to her warred with the terrifying strangeness of Arno's proposal. Finally, a fragile hope sparked. "W-Well..." he stammered. "If you say that... if you promise to protect her... I don't think I would mind that."
"So," Arno pressed, his gaze intense, "you accept? We fuse our souls?"
Zhou Fang took a shaky breath, clutching the image of his sister like a lifeline. "Yes."
"Don't worry," Arno said, a faint, enigmatic smile touching his lips. "It is already done."
As he spoke, intricate, glowing circles of pure energy appeared beneath both of them, swirling with complex, unknowable symbols. The light intensified. "Don't worry," Arno's voice echoed, strangely gentle yet firm. "I'll protect your sister. Because *you*... you won't be going back. Weak souls cannot overpower strong souls. That is the logic of this place... of The Merger."
Zhou Fang's eyes widened in sudden understanding and fear, but before he could speak, his form dissolved. It didn't vanish; it turned into a swirling, ethereal fog of pale light. This mist streamed towards Arno, flowing into his chest. Arno's own form blazed with power, his eyes flashing with an intense, golden light. Then, the light, Arno, and the fading remnants of the ritual circles vanished from the serene white realm. Only the endless, silent light remained.
***
In a grimy, shadowed alleyway deep within a sprawling, technologically advanced city, a body lay motionless on the cold pavement amidst overflowing trash bins and discarded wrappers. Abruptly, its eyes snapped open. A low chuckle rasped from its throat.
"Well," the voice that emerged was Zhou Fang's, yet infused with an entirely different timbre – deeper, rougher, laced with ancient power and dark amusement. "That was... easy." The body sat up with unnatural grace, movements sharp and assured. "Now I have full control over this boy's body."
He stood, dusting off the cheap, worn clothing with a disdainful flick of his wrist. His gaze swept the alley – the grime, the overflowing bins, the flickering, faulty light above a distant doorway. "Hmph. A lot of trash here. Am I in some kind of... refuse dump?" His musing was cut short as a wave of intense pressure spiked behind his eyes. He winced, clutching his temples as a torrent of fragmented images, emotions, and sensations flooded his mind – Zhou Fang's memories. Faces, voices, fleeting moments of joy and crushing despair, and always, recurring like a beacon, the image of a little girl with hopeful eyes and bright orange hair. *The sister.*
Slowly, the mental onslaught subsided. Arno lowered his hands, breathing steadily. "That pain... was a bit too much," he muttered, flexing Zhou Fang's unfamiliar fingers. "What should I do now?" He considered the lingering image of the girl. "I think... I'll just go to his house." A predatory grin touched his lips. "Or should I say... *my* house now?"
He stepped out of the alley. His legs, seemingly guided by the residual instincts and muscle memory of Zhou Fang's body, began to move with purpose down the crowded sidewalk. As he walked, Arno's eyes – Zhou Fang's eyes, now holding a sharp, alien intelligence – widened slightly. They darted over the sleek, hovering vehicles gliding silently past, the towering buildings clad in shimmering screens displaying moving images, the people engrossed in handheld devices glowing with light. A low whistle escaped him. "This world's technology... it's vastly more advanced than my old one." Genuine curiosity flickered in his gaze as he observed a high-speed maglev train streak past on an elevated track. "First time seeing... cars? Bikes? Huh."
After walking for several minutes, guided by the body's ingrained knowledge, he stopped before a dilapidated structure – a rundown apartment building that stood as a relic amidst the surrounding modernity. Nothing special. Utterly mundane. He pushed open the creaking main door and entered a dimly lit hallway smelling faintly of mildew and old cooking. His footsteps echoed on the worn linoleum as he climbed a narrow flight of stairs. Reaching a specific door, he didn't need to search for a key; Zhou Fang's body knew the way. He opened it and stepped inside a small, sparsely furnished apartment.
Immediately, he heard the quick patter of small feet. From a doorway down the short hall burst a little girl, no older than nine. Her vibrant orange hair was a splash of color in the drab surroundings. Her eyes, wide and filled with tears of relief, locked onto him. "Brother!" she cried, her voice high with emotion. She ran towards him, small arms outstretched, and threw herself against him in a desperate hug, burying her face in his chest. "Where were you? I was so worried about you!"
Arno stood rigid for a split second, unprepared for the physical contact, the raw vulnerability. Then, subtly, almost imperceptibly, a force other than his own conscious will took over. His hand – Zhou Fang's hand – lifted seemingly of its own accord. Gently, with a tenderness alien to Arno Valdian the warrior, it came to rest on the girl's head. His fingers slowly stroked her soft orange hair.
"It's alright," the voice said, softer now, carrying a warmth Arno himself did not feel. Zhou Fang's body smiled gently down at the small figure clinging to him. "I'm home, Mei."