"...Hmph..."
As two Taixu Sword God, one illusory and one real, descended simultaneously, Kevin Kaslana slowly closed his eyes, standing motionless.
To an uninformed observer, this would seem utterly baffling. After all, it was a prime opportunity to attack, a pincer movement that could have heavily wounded Michael.
But Kevin didn't act. He hadn't planned to from the start.
If time rewound fifty thousand years, Kevin mused, his reason for doing so would likely be what he'd call "acting according to principle"—of course, this was just him poking fun at his past self. Even that naive youth from fifty millennia ago would never have passed up such an opportunity in battle.
Moreover, this wasn't an opportunity that had come easily.
He knew how painful it was for Hua to deliver this blow—he'd known from the beginning. Hua had agreed to join their side against Michael for reasons precisely a_mirror_ to his own. It was merely different motivations leading to the same outcome.
Setting that aside, the memories incinerated by Fenghuang Down were, for any human, nothing short of agonizing torture.
He couldn't abandon this hard-won chance, nor did he intend to waste it.
Or rather, foolishly launching a direct attack at this moment would be the true waste of this opportunity.
Michael wasn't one for empty boasts; he'd already proven his words several times over—he transcended cause to directly dictate the effect. As long as that solar eclipse ring was visible in the sky, he would not die.
So, even if they could perfectly sever his head right now, the only result, after two or three breaths, would be time reversing again, with Michael emerging unscathed.
No matter how you looked at it, Michael was absurdly overpowered, with an air of arrogant mockery—Come on, I don't even need to use my full strength. Kill me if you can, come on, come on!
But reality was just that unreasonable, that devoid of power and recourse, so much so that it felt like it wanted to snatch away all of a person's hope, then stomp on their head for good measure.
If human-crafted stories required some semblance of logic—where hard work and diligence always led to good results, and laziness and selfishness to bad ones; where the good guy, despite setbacks, would always find support to achieve final victory, and the villain, even after ninety-nine wins, would inevitably face betrayal and ruin in the final battle, receiving his just deserts—
Unfortunately, none of this existed in reality, especially after the threads of fate had been thoroughly severed.
Fate itself didn't need to adhere to logic, and a reality devoid of fate needed it even less. It was merely a sum of random events. No matter how much one person sacrificed, they could hardly escape the fate of losing everything. Another might do nothing and reap a perfect harvest.
Perhaps this was why people emphasized logic and causality in the stories they created—because these were the very things they couldn't find in reality.
As for comments like, "I won't let that happen to me," or "I won't let myself face such a dilemma," they were essentially just forms of escape born from the inability to face reality.
It was too laughable. Reality wouldn't change for any single individual's will; it was something beyond human power. Just like being born rich or poor, male or female, the nature of one's parents and relatives, when and where one was born, and what kind of personality one possessed—none of these could be swayed by human will. And it was even simpler for the world to bring disaster upon a person: a simple car accident, falling into water, a gas leak explosion... and so on.
Yes, most people suffered tragedy, hardship, and death so suddenly and silently, much like their births.
As for those who still clamored, "I won't let that happen to me"...
The more things they couldn't achieve in reality, the louder they would shout, making themselves seem powerful, omnipotent. But such words, apart from deceiving themselves and bringing some false satisfaction, were actually harmful. These people had not only lost the courage to face a powerless reality but even the courage to face the setbacks of fictional characters. They merely believed themselves strong, so strong that the slightest blow in the real world could drive them to complete despair.
Fortunately, Kevin was not such a person.
He had grieved, he had broken down, he had been powerless. With all he had sacrificed, with all they had sacrificed, if there truly were cause and effect, if there truly were logic, then they should have received a happy ending.
But it didn't matter anymore. He cherished the past; if he could, he certainly wanted to change it. But he was willing to admit his powerlessness. What he had always wanted to achieve was something within his capabilities.
Correspondingly, he had to eliminate those who stood in his way, one by one.
To draw swords against former comrades, family—of course, he also wanted to say, "I won't let this happen to me."
But what happened, happened. It was beyond his control. He was unwilling, and he could not beg reality for mercy.
All he could do, the only thing he could do, was to fight with all his might, pay any price—and eliminate the enemy!
"Hooo—"
A long breath escaped his chest. When he opened his eyes, Kevin was no longer in the physical world.
Everything around him was bathed in blue light, not the azure of a lake reflecting the sky, but a blue deeply familiar from memory, like the glow emitted by early computer screens.
These blue points of light converged into slender threads, which then sketched out an endless expanse of skyscrapers. Kevin gazed at this exceptionally strange cityscape, occasionally spotting a vaguely familiar building. But if he tried to pinpoint when or where he had seen it, the memory eluded him.
And this, in his eyes, was the Imaginary Space.
"I'm here."
He gave a slight nod, as if talking to himself. But then, the space before him began to distort, to writhe, and then a grotesque crack appeared.
Colorful lights floated within the crack, and a cacophony of jumbled sounds poured out. But Kevin seemed to understand, even offering a formal greeting:
"Thank you for your hard work, Prometheus."
"......"
"Yes, Number 17. I know I came a bit early, but you should also be aware of the situation outside. Although I still don't know what Michael intends to do, we must stop him here. This is the only way."
"..."
"I know, Project Stigma hasn't begun. Even if you steal the Authority of Finality from Michael now, I can't bear it. But there are no other options. If we can't remove the Authority of Time from Michael's body, we will never be able to defeat him."
"........."
"I know... I know... If you act at this very moment, fifty thousand years of lying in wait might all be for nothing. The powers and sequence of subsequent Herrscher awakenings will be completely disrupted, beyond our control. But I've read the data Dr. MEI left. The only reason she had you lie dormant here was to transfer the Authority of Finality to me when needed. As for fixing the order and powers of subsequent Herrscher births, it was essentially because MEI couldn't be sure that the Authority of Finality was limited to time alone...
"But that question no longer exists. Judging from our two battles with Michael, the Authority of Finality is time. All of MEI's speculations were correct. Even if, in the days to come, the Cocoon of Finality projects itself beyond the thirteen known planes, it will only cause minor trouble. From a macroscopic perspective, it will have no impact on the final outcome. But, if you can fortunately continue to lie dormant, that would naturally be the best result."
"O...kay... I will... try... to live... You... too."
"Mm."
Kevin slowly closed his eyes. The crack before him sealed shut, as if nothing had happened, as if Kevin had merely come here to chat with an old acquaintance.
But he knew that wasn't so, and he could feel it wasn't so.
Something had definitely changed.
It was the ownership of what was originally the Authority of Finality. It hadn't fallen into Kevin's hands as hoped, because Project Stigma hadn't even begun to be implemented; Kevin couldn't bear such an authority.
Of course, it didn't remain unchanged either. The fire-stealer, after fifty thousand years of dormancy, couldn't pass the stolen torch to Kevin, but it could leave it vacant.
Thus, the power of time, the Authority of Finality, was stripped from Finality itself, becoming an ownerless thing.
And this, using the opportunity Hua had created, was the utmost Kevin could achieve!
When he opened his eyes again, Michael was suddenly clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other, kneeling on the ground, gasping for air. Ten steps in front of him, Ling Shuang, her body bearing dozens of sword wounds, her snow-white hair disheveled, tightly held Hua, who had collapsed after using the first rated output of Fenghuang Down.
"Thanks. You can take her and leave. Leave the rest to me."
Kevin's voice carried past Michael's body to Ling Shuang's ears. The young woman's eyes focused, giving Kevin a deep look before she unhesitatingly retreated from the battlefield with Hua.
"Hngh... Hngh... Hngh..."
Michael let out pained grunts, his left hand fumbling on the ground. He finally managed to grasp the red spear again, propping it up, then using it to try and stand.
But how could it be so easy? Mentally traumatized and having lost the Authority of Finality almost simultaneously, Michael, though still powerful, seemed as fragile as an infant under the immense disparity.
Kevin walked step by step behind him, placing the heavy, searing blade of the Might of An-Utu against his neck.
"It's over, Michael."
As he spoke, he didn't rush to strike, but instead looked up at the sky.
The sky remained dim, the eclipse ring still hanging high above.
"One, two, three..."
Kevin counted silently in his mind. The instant he counted "three," the moon, which had been positioned between the Earth and the sun, began to move again. One side of the eclipse ring started to thicken, while the other gradually faded. Soon, it transformed from a ring into a crescent shape, making it seem even more like night.
But ultimately, the eclipse ring hadn't completely dissipated. He couldn't judge if Michael's so-called causality was still in effect. If he took advantage of Michael's extreme weakness to behead him now, and Michael's causality hadn't been thoroughly eliminated, it would undoubtedly cause unnecessary complications.
However, if he waited for the eclipse to completely disappear, it would likely take another ten minutes or so—enough time for Michael to recover and adapt to his suddenly diminished power.
Although, after stripping Michael of the power of Finality and the authority over time, Kevin believed they were now on equal footing for a fight.
But considering Michael might still possess the powers of thirteen Herrschers, plus that red spear which, aside from being extremely tough, hadn't displayed any special abilities so far, Kevin still didn't dare to be careless.
However, truth be told, this problem was easily solved. It was just that "easy" bordered on cruel... But for Kevin, what truly counted as cruel? Sacrificing all of humanity in this world for a victory that yielded nothing but victory itself—was Project Stigma not cruel?
He was also steadfastly walking the path he believed to be correct. For that, what was cruelty? Could any cruelty compare to Project Stigma?
For everything he wanted to achieve, he had first abandoned everything he still possessed, including friendship, dignity, honor, and mercy.
He no longer hesitated. Swinging the greatsword, he severed Michael's limbs at their roots. The flames of Might of An-Utu first "welded" shut the flesh at the stumps, and Parvati's frost immediately followed, halting cellular activity at the wounds with low temperatures. In just two or three breaths, Michael became a literal "human stump." He himself, still reeling from the immense shock of losing the power of Finality, felt no pain and made no reaction.
"Next up..."
Glancing up at the dark silhouette in the sky again, Kevin quickly formulated his next plan.
He grabbed Michael by the collar. In the next moment, the light and shadows around them inverted. When he came to his senses, he was in another, even darker and lightless place.
Looking up, the blue planet hung overhead, visible but unreachable.
"Tsk, Kevin. I knew you'd do this."
"What!"
Kevin looked at Michael in his grasp, utterly astonished. Michael's current state was somewhat terrifying and pitiable, yet he himself seemed completely unconcerned. This made Kevin briefly suspect if he hadn't even noticed his missing limbs, or... had this been a trap from the very beginning?
"What's so surprising, Kevin? You say it all the time—a man's character is his destiny. I know you well enough. While I can't predict every future detail, anticipating your general direction within the larger framework is ridiculously easy."
"You... What do you mean?"
"Before I continue, shouldn't you put me down?"
Startled, Kevin unconsciously loosened his grip, taking two steps back.
Under the moon's gravity, Michael slowly landed, his "human stump" body wobbling like a roly-poly toy. But before he could speak, he grimaced.
"Ugh, you..."
"Don't talk yet... This freaking hurts..."
The two hadn't actually exchanged any spoken words from start to finish. After all, the oxygen shield on the far side of the moon had been breached fifty thousand years ago. In an almost airless environment, even if they spoke, the sound couldn't travel via vibrations to the other's ears.
From the beginning, it had only been Michael using the Authority of Sentience to communicate with Kevin.
"Alright, Kevin. Let's call it your win up to this point. But even without the Authority of Finality, you might not be able to beat me. Let's have one last battle!"
A purple, cross-shaped pillar of light erupted from the ground, instantly spanning the 380,000 kilometers between the Earth and the Moon. Kevin's body was relentlessly pushed back by the shockwave. When he finally stabilized himself, what he saw was a figure nearly ten thousand meters tall.
The being before him, judging by its facial features, was identical to Michael, only its naked skin was a stark, featureless white. It initially had the appearance of a "human stump," but tissue that barely resembled flesh began to writhe at its limb points, regenerating everything lost in the blink of an eye.
Then, it made a grasping motion to its side. A streak of red light flew from Earth to its palm, rapidly spiraling and growing into a red spear as tall as itself.
And its voice echoed continuously in Kevin's mind:
"Step forward, Kevin! This is our... final battle!"
"Suits me just fine!"
Kevin let out a long breath. He quickly closed his eyes. His heart, which had been layered and corroded by an unknown black power, suddenly burst forth with an incomparably dazzling light.
Another white pillar of light pierced the cosmos. From it stepped a new life form, resembling a humanoid Honkai Beast. It had a white-gray exoskeleton, with purple patterns spreading across its body. And the greatsword capable of incinerating all, the Cleaver of Shamash, had now transformed into a colossal spear with spearheads on both ends of the shaft, their shape identical to the original Cleaver of Shamash.
The two faced each other in the void for a long moment. Shortly, Michael looked down at his naked self, feeling no shame. At the same time, his voice once again resounded in Kevin's mind:
"Kevin, between the two of us, it seems I'm still the more human one."
The response he received wasn't words, but crimson flames, burning fiercely in the cold expanse of space.
Following the flames, hurtling towards Michael, was the Cleaver of Shamash, once again transformed, this time into a giant chain flail.
This was destined to be a battle with no witnesses, no outcome, and no meaning.
And for the two beings present, long since no longer human, this battle was by no means the "final battle" Michael claimed it to be.
However, to say there were no witnesses would be too arbitrary. Twelve thousand meters above the far side of the moon, there was something rarely seen, coldly observing the battle between two beings capable of destroying worlds.
It was a trace of Finality's descent fifty thousand years ago—and also a crimson cross, a monument whose size even Michael's current colossal form could not yet match.