“Dun-dun, dun-dun.”

  The hum echoed softly across the throne room as Paradox strode forward. His steps reverberated on the polished marble floor, each movement deliberate and taunting. The humming wasn’t just sound—it was rhythm. Like a ticking clock, like a death knell.

  “What is that abominable noise you're making?” A voice heavy with disdain broke the rhythm.

  The Silver King sat upon his throne, one hand lazily tapping against the ornate armrest, the hollow echoing like a second melody of menace. His icy blue eyes glared down at Paradox, piercing and analytical, like daggers poised to strike.

  “Show some respect in front of your King,” Alistair Vesper commanded.

  This was Alistair "The Silver King" VesperKing's Night, his private kingdom of the strong and loyal—a kingdom where weakness was crushed, and loyalty to was absolute.

  Alistair wore his authority like a second skin. A tailored black suit embroidered in liquid silver patterns clung to his muscular frame. A dark cloak, shifting like mercury in the dim light, cascaded from his shoulders. Upon his head rested a silver crown-like headpiece, its intricate design resembling both a work of art and a predator's snare. Beside his throne lay his weapon: The Obsidian Saber

  Yes, Alistair was every bit the egotistical prick Paradox imagined—and more. Paradox mused silently.

  Paradox stopped a dozen paces from the throne, grinning lazily as if he were strolling into a tavern, not the den of a king.

  “Vroom.”

  The sharp crack of energy tore through the room as Paradox fired off a bolt of electricity aimed directly at the King’s chest. It struck cleanly, but—

  Alistair vanished like smoke dispersing in the wind.

  “An illusion,” Paradox muttered, already spinning on his heel. His instincts screamed. A flash of silver. Alistair’s blade sliced through the air, grazing Paradox’s jacket.

  “Cute trick,” Paradox smirked as he skipped backward, but his smile faltered. Something pulsed at the edges of his vision—warping. His mind flickered.

  Alistair reappeared, his regal posture unshaken, his face calm but calculating. He was muscular but carried himself like royalty, every movement deliberate and precise. Icy blue eyes fixed on Paradox with predatory intensity. His silver hair, slicked back and regal, glimmered in the dim light. The faint scar crossing his brow hinted at a past where even kings bled.

  Suddenly, a ripple spread across the room. The lush grass beneath their feet turned brittle and crumbled into dust. Trees outside the throne room window twisted and blackened as their life force was siphoned away—absorbed into Alistair. The dark gemstone in his blade glowed brighter.

  Paradox realized grimly.

  The fight was on.

  The two clashed with blinding speed. Sparks flared as steel met steel. Alistair moved like a tempest—each swing of his sword a masterful execution, honed by decades of discipline. Paradox, agile and chaotic, met him with his own flair, sidestepping and countering. Every step was calculated chaos.

  For each illusion Alistair conjured, Paradox defied it, attacking the “real” Alistair with a manic gleam in his eye. Paradox was looking for something—an opening

  “I will admit,” Alistair said between clashes, his voice tinged with amusement and irritation, “for a fool who challenges a king, you are a strong fool. Not many break free of my illusions—or my control.”

  Paradox parried another strike, the clang of blades ringing through the chamber. He grinned, blood trickling from a small cut on his cheek.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty,” Paradox quipped, his voice light but his eyes sharp. “Let’s just say I’ve played this game before.”

  Their swords locked, both men pushing against each other. Alistair’s eyes narrowed, studying Paradox’s every movement like a predator sizing up its prey.

  Paradox realized.

  One wrong move, one single miscalculation, and this battle would end.

  Paradox drew The Chrono Sword

  Alistair saw it coming, his mind sharp enough to perceive the slowing flow of time. He dodged—only to find himself repeating the same dodge. Again. And again.

  “What sorcery is this?” Alistair growled, confusion tainting his icy calm. He moved, his mind searching for a way out—yet he remained trapped, evading the same attack on endless repeat.

  Paradox’s voice broke the silence, smug and teasing. “Time loop, Your Majesty. Fun, right? I’ve locked you in a little puzzle. Let’s see how long it takes you to solve it.”

  The king’s jaw tightened as frustration flickered in his gaze. The dark gemstone in his sword flared, pulsing with raw energy. With a roar, Alistair swung his blade.

  Slash.

  The wave of energy shattered like glass as Alistair cut through the loop. He charged forward, faster than thought—his blade aimed at Paradox’s head.

  But Paradox was faster. Time warped again, and Paradox met Alistair’s strike head-on. Their blades collided, locking once more.

  And then—

  The moment his blade connected, Paradox felt it.

  The illusion dissolved.

  The Alistair appeared behind him.

  “Too slow.”

  The king’s blade swung downward, a blur of silver aimed for Paradox’s heart.

  But just as the sword struck—

  Paradox phased into shadow, intangible for a heartbeat. He reappeared a few feet away, breathing hard.

  “Close one,” Paradox muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. He turned, launching himself forward with renewed ferocity. His knee smashed into Alistair’s chin with a crack. The king staggered back, wiping blood from his mouth with a smirk.

  “Interesting,” Alistair muttered, his tone laced with dark satisfaction. “To think I would meet a foe worthy of my blade. Tell me, what is thy name?”

  Paradox grinned, brandishing his sword. “Paradox. One name, simple and epic. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Alistair chuckled darkly. “Befitting, I suppose, for one such as you.”

  They circled each other, both bleeding, both grinning like wolves.

  “Let’s finish this,” Paradox said. Flames erupted in his palm, roaring outward like a storm.

  “Let’s see if you can cut ”

  And that he did.

  Alistair's silver blade shone brilliantly, like a star slashing through the sky, cleaving through the torrent of flames raging towards him. The oppressive heat caused the air itself to waver and dance, but his expression remained stone-cold.

  Paradox

  The gears turned rapidly in his mind as he clenched his Chrono Sword

  Without hesitation, Paradox unleashed another torrent of flames—faster this time, boosted by the temporal energy of his blade. His mind bent reality, imagining the flames taking on , weaving after Alistair like living serpents.

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  Simultaneously, he cloaked himself in shadow, his presence vanishing

  “You cannot hide forever!”

  Alistair's shout cut through the roar of the flames. His silver blade clashed against the fiery torrent, and sparks cascaded around him like a storm of dying stars. The flames resisted him this time, heavy and writhing, like they had a will of their own.

  "Tch—this is... harder than before."

  The strain on his body was clear as he grunted, pouring every ounce of strength into his swing. With a final push, he scattered the flames—but in that very instant, a sharp pain tore through his chest.

  “Guh—!”

  Paradox’s Chrono Sword pierced Alistair’s back. Blood splattered onto the scorched earth as Alistair stumbled, coughing violently.

  “A... A sneak attack? A warrior... of your caliber, resorting to such ... How disgraceful.”

  Blood dripped from his lips as he staggered forward.

  "Who said I the kind of warrior to use tricks?" Paradox’s voice came like a whisper laced with mockery. He smirked cruelly—but it faded as swiftly as it appeared.

  Before his very eyes, Alistair’s body shimmered... and vanished.

  “What? ”

  A realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

  In that split-second of distraction, a brilliant beam of purple energy

  BOOM!

  The impact sent Paradox hurtling across the battlefield. He crashed into the ground, his body skidding through dirt and rubble. Smoke rose from his charred form. Burns covered his flesh, chunks of his body had been eviscerated

  His vision blurred.

  His thoughts dulled as the world around him turned gray. His once-sharp eyes stared vacantly at the sky, their light extinguished.

  "Victory is mine!"

  Alistair's voice rang out with triumph as he sheathed his gleaming blade. The dark gemstone

  He stood over Paradox's broken body, shoulders heaving.

  "At last... With your defeat, I can rebuild my kingdom—reclaim my throne as the strongest."

  He turned to leave, his focus already shifting to Metro City. But as his gaze swept over the blood-soaked ground, he froze. The pool of Paradox’s blood—no longer still—began to shift, ripple, and swirl.

  It morphed into words

  “Do not get too confident. I’ll be back. Watch your back.”

  Alistair sneered, scoffing at the cryptic message. Turning on his heel, he marched toward the ruined city in the distance.

  In the heart of Metro City, Alistair raised his hand. A crackling wave of illusionary magicObsidian Unit Mk-V robots. They marched forward like an endless tide, their steel feet crushing debris underfoot.

  Their directive? To destroy

  Suddenly—

  CRASH!

  A force like a meteor struck the ground, sending robots flying

  A confident, commanding voice echoed through the devastation.

  “Who said you could come to and do as you please?”

  From the dust, a figure emerged—her silhouette unmistakable

  EveOmni Eve costume

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed.

  In the depths of limbo, Paradox’s ghostly presence chuckled softly.

  “She’s here... Good. Five minutes, little sister. That’s all I need for revival. Show me how much you’ve grown.”

  Eve soared into the sky, lightning-fasttelekinesis

  The rods veered back, hitting him from unexpected angles.

  BOOM!

  Explosions erupted, the sheer force blasting Alistair backward. His boots dug trenches into the earth as he skidded, clutching his ribs.

  "Those rods... How heavy are they? And that explosion... It could flatten an entire building!"

  Wiping blood from his mouth, Alistair glared at her.

  "Who you? How is one so young this powerful?"

  "I am Omni Eve," she declared, her voice unshaking. "Little sister of Paradox, and the one who’s going to end your reign of destruction!"

  Eve surged forward, breaking the sound barrier

  Alistair readied his stance, predicting her attack—only to stagger in shock. She blocked his strikes bare-handed. No—upon closer inspection, her hands were enveloped in shimmering translucent energy

  Before he could react—

  CRACK!

  Her fist collided with his side, a punch so devastating it sent him soaring

  "GAAH!"

  His body crumpled against the ground, ruptured organs screaming in agony. Blood streamed from his mouth.

  Alistair struggled to his feet. His every movement was labored, every breath ragged.

  Gritting his teeth, Alistair swung his blade, unleashing a crescent slashpsychic field

  Her cold, piercing gaze bore into him.

  “You killed my brother. I’ll make sure you suffer tenfold.”

  She launched a barrage of rods, dozens

  Alistair’s screams echoed as he was impaled again and again—except...

  It was an illusion

  From behind, Alistair’s blade plunged into her back.

  “Too young. Too inexperienced,” he muttered.

  Her body fell limp. Or so he thought.

  Just as Paradox stated, Eve's body began to dissipate, before morphing into her Ethereal Eve form

  "What... What in the name of the gods you?!"

  Eve’s voice was soft but chilling.

  “I don’t know. But this form... will be your end.”

  In a blink, she was in front of him

  Her foot collided with his ribs, a strike so powerful it sent him tumbling across the battlefield.

  Tumbling over the ground Alistair manages to regain his balance, before releasing the same purple beam that killed Paradox, only for it to be reflected.

  This is impossible, how did she become this much stronger. Her psychic powers are far greater than mine. Just then the gemstone on his sword began to glow fiercely once again, when an idea struck him. That's it

  Gripping his sword he charged at her zigging through all of the rods she launched at his, while enduring his broken ribs and ruptured organs, and when he was within range the gemstone began to glow even brighter before it released out in every direction in a spear.

  Desperately, Alistair raised his sword. The dark gemstone flared violently, releasing a last-ditch spear of energy

  “Got her—!”

  Or so he hoped.

  When the smoke cleared, Alistair's fleeting sense of victory was quickly overshadowed by the terrifying sight before him. Standing there, battered and bloodied, was Paradox, holding Omni Eve in his arms. The battle had clearly taken its toll—his body was smeared with blood, both his own and Eve's. But what truly sent a chill through Alistair’s spine was the savage grin on Paradox’s face. It was a grin that spelled doom, the kind that only a man on the verge of his final stand could muster.

  Alistair's heart tightened. A king defeated on the battlefield... by a worthy foe. His throat tightened as he accepted the inevitable, but he swore that this final battle would be his greatest.

  Paradox looked down at Eve, who was now back in her original form. The fear from the near-death blow she had almost taken had caused her to revert, her ghostly visage fading into something more familiar, but Paradox’s reassuring presence seemed to calm her.

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anything happen to my lil sis, ya know,” Paradox said with a grin that softened just for a moment. “Now why don’t you go back home, or... stay and watch. Your choice.” Carefully, he laid Eve down gently, turning his attention back to Alistair, the grin returning to his face.

  Alistair, though weakened, stood tall, unwilling to let this moment be the end of his journey. It was the final battle, and he would make sure it counted. But just as he was preparing himself for one last strike, Paradox's expression shifted. His crimson red eyes suddenly morphed, shifting into an eerie purple glow. The kanji —"God Paradox"—flickered within his pupils.

  For the first time, Alistair felt an overwhelming sense of fear. This wasn’t just the final act; this was something beyond his comprehension.

  Paradox’s eyes gleamed with power as the world around him fractured into kaleidoscopic shards. A surreal distortion surrounded him, and Alistair could feel the very fabric of reality twist and warp.

  “These eyes,” Paradox murmured, almost to himself, as if sharing a secret with the universe itself. “I call them the 'God Paradox eyes.' With these eyes, I have the power to manipulate dual realities. To create and enforce two contradictory states of existence at once. In my vision, I can rewrite the laws of possibility. What you see isn’t what you get.”

  Alistair’s mind raced, trying to process the words, but the reality-bending energy emanating from Paradox was almost too much to handle. What was happening? Could this truly be the end?

  “I will end this fight with one attack,” Paradox declared, his voice a calm but ominous whisper. He held out his hand, and light began to swirl around it, gathering into a sphere of pure, concentrated energy.

  Alistair, however, was no novice. He responded with all the strength he could muster, his own purple energy beam bursting forth to clash with Paradox’s. The two beams met with an earth-shattering roar, a struggle of unimaginable force as they fought for dominance. But to his surprise Paradox’s beam wavered, getting overturned giving way.

  The purple beam surged forward, striking Paradox in the chest. Alistair watched, for a brief moment, with a sickening sense of triumph—until the smoke cleared.

  Paradox stood. Unfazed. Unbroken. His chest, once glowing with the deadly energy, had not even left a scar. His face remained eerily calm, his grin never fading.

  Alistair’s heart sank. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood, breathing heavily.

  “W-What did you do?” Alistair croaked, his voice weak and filled with disbelief.

  Paradox stood above him, his voice low but laced with finality. “I altered your perception, Alistair. I manipulated your mind. What you thought was a victory... was merely a reflection. You visualized it as successful, but in reality, you were always the one who lost.” His gaze darkened. “Any attack you would have tried would have ended the same way.”

  Alistair’s breath hitched in his throat as the weight of the words sunk in. “You truly are a tricky one,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “A warrior who is willing to use anything... anything at his disposal.” He coughed up blood. “And for that... I thank you.”

  Paradox’s brow furrowed. “Thank me? What for?”

  Alistair chuckled weakly, though it sounded hollow, defeated. “For giving me... the fight and ending of a warrior and a king... For not looking down on me when I was weaker than you, and... most importantly... showing me the future I could have had.” He paused, eyes fading, his life slipping away. “I’m not... sorry for losing. I’m just sorry... I never got to see that future.”

  And with that, Alistair’s eyes dulled, his breath stilled, and the light of his life flickered out.

  Paradox stood in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his eyes softened, and he closed them briefly.

  His thoughts drifted to the task at hand.

  With a snap of his fingers, Paradox imagined Metro City restored, its once-shattered streets and buildings returning to their former glory. He thought of how Alistair’s reign had left the city broken, and how he was about to put it back together. But as the image came to life, Paradox felt the draining sensation in his eyes, his vision blurring.

  he thought, before his sight faded entirely.

  As Paradox collapsed, falling face-first into the ground, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

  he mused.

  His voice echoed through the emptiness of his thoughts.

  And with that, Paradox’s consciousness faded, slipping into the abyss.