The air was unnaturally still, the kind of stillness that suffocates sound and thought. The void stretched endlessly in every direction, an abyss so vast and infinite that it mocked the concept of space itself. Yet, amidst this emptiness, he walked.
Copi's figure stood out against the black expanse—a stark, pale white form that glowed faintly, as if he carried with him the remnants of countless stars. His movements were deliberate, not rushed but not slow. Each step he took rippled through the fabric of the void, creating faint, circular distortions as though reality itself had to accommodate him.
Copi: You're still here.
He didn't stop walking as he spoke, his voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. It wasn't loud, but it echoed everywhere, as though the void itself repeated his words.
Copi: Watching. Judging. Trying to comprehend. How predictable.
His hollow black eyes shifted slightly, as if noticing the presence of something unseen. He wasn't looking around randomly; he was looking at you—the readers. It wasn't an illusion, nor a coincidence. He was aware. Fully aware.
Copi: You wonder what this is, don't you? Who I am? What I am? You scrape at the walls of understanding like insects trying to break through steel. Pathetic.
He stopped walking, turning fully to face the unseen "camera"—the invisible barrier that separated him from his observers.
Copi: The second wall. The third. The fourth. Do you think these things mean something? That these layers, these scales, these constructs of understanding... matter?
Copi raised a single hand, his pale fingers curling as though gripping an unseen object. The void around him trembled, the faint ripples becoming violent waves of distortion. For a brief moment, the darkness peeled away, revealing an endless latticework of glowing threads that stretched infinitely into the distance.
Copi: This is what you cling to. Your stories. Your rules. Your reality. These threads that bind you to meaning and purpose. But to me, they are nothing.
He clenched his fist, and the lattice shattered, the threads unraveling and dissolving into motes of light. Copi tilted his head slightly, as though pondering the fragility of what he had just destroyed.
Copi: Nothing but strings to be cut. Adjusted. Perfected. That is all I see when I look at you.
The void shifted, the space around Copi changing like pages flipping in a book. Now, he stood amidst a swirling storm of galaxies. Their light bent and twisted unnaturally, forming shapes that defied comprehension. Stars were born and died within seconds, entire solar systems folding into themselves like origami.
Copi: Do you think I am chaos? A disruption? No. Chaos is flawed. It is unpredictable, yes, but it is also unrefined. Ugly. I am none of those things.
He stepped forward, his presence causing the galaxies to warp and bend around him. His hollow eyes scanned the vast expanse, his voice dropping to a softer, almost contemplative tone.
Copi: I am not creation. I am not destruction. I am adjustment. Perfection given form. I see what exists, and I make it better.
The perspective shifted again. Now, Copi stood before a massive river of golden light. It flowed endlessly, splitting into countless smaller streams that branched and merged in chaotic patterns. Time itself was laid bare, its currents visible and tangible. Copi knelt by the river, dipping a single finger into the golden flow. Instantly, the current froze.
Copi: Time. A fragile thing. It bends so easily.
He traced his finger along the surface of the river, and the flow reversed, unraveling history before the unseen eyes of the audience. Stars unformed, civilizations crumbled backward into infancy, and memories dissolved into nothing. Copi paused, studying the frozen river.
Copi: Why move backward when you can move forward? No, not forward. Upward.
He clenched his fist, and the river shattered, the droplets of golden light hanging suspended in the void. Each droplet contained an entire timeline, a history, a reality. Copi plucked one from the air, gazing into it as though it were a snow globe.
The droplet showed Sukojo, locked in battle. Copi's hollow eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips curled into the faintest smirk.
Copi: Chaos given flesh. Such a pitiful thing. You scream, you roar, you fight against the tide of what you can't control. How utterly predictable.
He let the droplet fall, watching as it disintegrated before hitting the invisible ground.
For the first time, Copi turned fully, his posture straightening. His eyes—those black, hollow voids—stared directly at the audience. The galaxies behind him dimmed, and the golden droplets dissolved. Now, there was only him.
Copi: You think I am talking to no one, don't you? That this is a monologue. A meaningless ramble. But no. I am talking to you.
He raised a hand, pointing directly at the unseen barrier. His voice grew sharper, each word cutting through the void like a blade.
Copi: Do not mistake my words for theatrics. You... who sit beyond your walls, who watch, who judge. Do you think you are safe behind your precious fourth wall? That I cannot reach you?
The void trembled violently, cracks forming in the unseen "camera." For a brief moment, it felt as though Copi was stepping through, his presence bleeding into reality itself.
Copi: Your walls mean nothing. They are illusions. And I... am not bound by them.
He lowered his hand, his voice softening again, though it retained its edge.
Copi: But I digress. You want answers, don't you? You want to know who I am. What I am. You scale your walls, you debate, you theorize, you write your little stories trying to comprehend me. But comprehension is a luxury you do not have.
Copi began walking again, his steps slow, deliberate.
Copi: I am Copi. And that is all you need to know. Whether I am creation, destruction, or something else entirely... that is not for you to decide. You are here to watch. To observe. And that is all you will ever do.
Copi turned slowly, the void around him shifting with his movement. It wasn't a void in the traditional sense—it was a swirling amalgamation of concepts, of colors that didn't exist, of shapes that defied comprehension. Planets spiraled into existence and dissolved within moments. Stars were born and burned out with every breath he took.
Copi: You see this? This is your limitation. Your inability to grasp what lies beyond. You watch, you theorize, you debate... but you will never truly know.
He paused, his jagged grin fading into something colder, sharper. His voice dropped, carrying an edge of something beyond mockery—something terrifyingly honest.
Copi: Do you think I care what you call me? A god? A demon? A force of nature? No. I am none of those things. I am Copi. That name alone holds more weight than your entire reality.
The swirling chaos around him began to take form. Massive, spiraling structures—half-formed, like the skeletons of ancient gods—stretched endlessly into the distance. Rivers of molten energy flowed between them, their glow casting Copi's stark white form in sharp contrast.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against one of the colossal structures. It trembled under his touch, rippling like water. The entire fabric of the void seemed to react, bending and warping as though it feared his presence.
Copi: You try to define me by walls—second, third, fourth, seventh. You try to place me within your feeble hierarchies. But let me make one thing clear. I don't just break the walls. I make them irrelevant.
His hand clenched into a fist, and the structure shattered, dissolving into countless fragments that floated aimlessly through the void. He watched them for a moment, his black eyes narrowing.
Copi: You cling to your laws. Gravity. Time. Space. They comfort you, don't they? They give you the illusion of control, of understanding. But what happens when those laws don't apply?
He stepped forward, his form shifting as he moved. For a moment, he was impossibly tall, stretching beyond the horizon. Then he was small, barely a shadow in the vast expanse. His presence fluctuated wildly, as though he refused to be contained by any single form.
Copi: You think of me as a villain, perhaps. A disruptor. Something to be stopped. But let me ask you this—what is a villain to a story without a protagonist? What is chaos to a world without order? You don't see the whole picture. You can't. And that is your greatest weakness.
The void darkened, the swirling energy slowing, becoming almost still. Copi tilted his head, his jagged grin returning as he stared directly ahead—at you.
Copi: Do you feel it? That unease crawling up your spine? That nagging thought in the back of your mind, telling you that none of this is real? That's me. I'm not just in this story—I'm in you. In every thought, every doubt, every fleeting moment of hesitation. I am there.
He took another step forward, his hollow black eyes unblinking as he leaned closer. The void around him pulsed, the air growing heavier with each passing second.
Copi: You can close the book. You can look away. But I'll still be here. Watching. Waiting. Because I am not bound by your choices, your reality, or your understanding. I am Copi. And that... is all you will ever need to know.
The swirling chaos around him began to intensify again, the fragments of shattered structures reforming into something new. Something incomprehensible. Copi turned, his jagged grin widening as he walked into the chaos, his voice echoing behind him.
Copi: Go ahead. Try to understand me. Try to define me. It's cute, really. But remember this—every answer you think you find is just a shadow of the truth. And the truth? It's mine.
With that, he vanished, leaving only the endless void behind. And yet, his presence lingered, a weight pressing against the edge of reality, reminding you that he was still there. Watching.
The void left behind by Copi's departure rippled faintly, a lingering imprint of his overwhelming presence. But elsewhere, far removed from the unseen enigma that was Copi, the battle raged on.
The ruins of Lara's home now lay in utter devastation. The once-familiar landscape had transformed into a battleground that defied logic. Cracked ground gave way to an endless abyss below, and above, the sky itself seemed to twist unnaturally, as though recoiling from the clash unfolding within it.
Dark stood, his breath ragged, his shattered blade gripped tightly in his hand. Crimson energy flickered weakly around him, like a dying flame struggling to survive. The figure before him—a ghostly white aberration—remained unscathed, its hollow eyes gazing down with cold indifference.
The figure tilted its head, observing him as if he were nothing more than an insect crawling toward inevitable death. Its jagged dagger gleamed faintly, pulsing in time with the distorted hum that filled the air.
Figure: You persist. Interesting... but futile.
Dark growled under his breath, his aura flaring as he stepped forward. The sheer weight of the figure's presence bore down on him, but he forced himself to move, to fight, to resist.
Dark: (snarling) Shut up. You don't get to decide how this ends.
The figure didn't respond, but its void-like eyes seemed to narrow slightly. It raised the dagger, the runes along its blade flaring brighter. The ground beneath it cracked and shattered as though reality itself recoiled from its power.
Dark lunged forward, his broken blade igniting with crimson energy. He closed the distance in an instant, aiming for the figure's core with a strike that could have leveled mountains. The air screamed as his blade cut through it, a shockwave rippling outward from the sheer force of his attack.
But the figure didn't dodge.
The shattered blade collided with the dagger, and the impact sent a deafening shockwave through the battlefield. The force of it shattered the ground beneath them, creating a massive crater that extended for miles in every direction. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, the two combatants locked in place, their auras clashing violently.
Dark: (growling) You're going to break.
Figure: (softly) Am I?
The dagger began to twist, bending reality around it. The force holding Dark's blade faltered, and the figure stepped forward, pressing against his strength with impossible ease. The ground around them disintegrated further, leaving nothing but a void beneath their feet.
Figure: Your strength is fleeting. A spark in the abyss. It burns brightly... but it cannot last.
Dark gritted his teeth, his aura flaring brighter as he pushed back against the figure's overwhelming force. The runes on the dagger began to flicker erratically, as though reacting to the clash of energies.
Dark: (snarling) I've been told that before. And I'm still here.
With a roar, he channeled every ounce of energy he had left into his strike. Crimson lightning crackled around him, the sheer force of his power tearing through the air. The figure staggered slightly, its void-like eyes narrowing as cracks began to form along the surface of its dagger.
Dark saw his chance.
He stepped forward, his broken blade blazing as he swung again. This time, the impact shattered the dagger completely, sending shards of jagged metal flying in all directions. The figure recoiled, its form flickering as though destabilized.
Dark: (shouting) You're done!
But as he prepared to deliver the final blow, the figure's form began to shift. The white surface of its body cracked and splintered, revealing something darker—something far more twisted—beneath. Its hollow eyes burned brighter, and the shattered pieces of the dagger began to reassemble themselves in midair, the runes glowing with an even more malevolent light.
Figure: You misunderstand. I do not fall. I adapt.
The air around them grew colder, the oppressive weight of the figure's presence intensifying. Dark staggered back, his aura flickering weakly as the figure began to reform, its jagged edges sharper, its movements faster. The void beneath them pulsed, sending ripples through the fabric of reality.
Dark: (thinking) It's getting stronger. Every time I knock it down, it comes back worse.
His mind raced, searching for an opening, a weakness—anything he could exploit. But the figure didn't wait. It moved with blinding speed, its reassembled dagger slicing through the air with precision that defied logic.
Dark barely managed to dodge, the blade grazing his shoulder and sending a searing pain through his body. He stumbled, his breath ragged, as the figure loomed over him once more.
Figure: You fight well. But you fight... alone.
The words hit harder than the blade, and Dark's mind flashed to the faces of his allies—Lara, Leona, Gilmuar, Tier. They were somewhere beyond the battlefield, watching, waiting. And he was here, fighting for all of them.
Dark: (thinking) I'm not alone. Not this time.
He steadied himself, his crimson aura reigniting with renewed strength. The golden blaze returned to his eyes as he raised his broken blade, his voice steady and sharp.
Dark: I don't care how many times you come back. I'll keep breaking you until there's nothing left.
The figure tilted its head, its hollow eyes narrowing slightly.
Figure: Then let us see... how long you last.
The two clashed again, their battle escalating to heights that tore through the very fabric of reality. The figure's attacks grew faster, more relentless, but Dark matched them with raw determination, each strike of his broken blade pushing back against the overwhelming force of his opponent.
In the distance, the faint glow of Gilmuar's barrier flickered as the others watched in silence. Leona's fists clenched, her voice trembling with frustration.
Leona: (shouting) He can't keep this up! We have to do something!
Gilmuar shook his head, his golden eyes fixed on the battlefield.
Gilmuar: If we interfere, we'll only get in his way. This fight... it's his.
Lara stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly together, her voice soft but resolute.
Lara: He'll win. He always does.
Back on the battlefield, Dark let out a roar as he delivered another devastating strike, the impact sending the figure crashing into the void below. But even as it fell, its voice echoed through the air, haunting and unrelenting.
Figure: Show me... the strength of your resolve.
Dark stood at the edge of the void, his broken blade glowing faintly in his hand. His breath was ragged, his body battered, but his eyes burned with unyielding determination.
Dark: (softly) You want to see my resolve? Fine.
He raised his blade, the crimson energy around it blazing brighter than ever before. The ground beneath him cracked, the air around him igniting as he channeled every ounce of his power into one final attack.
Dark: (shouting) Then watch closely!
With a roar, he leapt into the void, his blade cutting through the darkness as he descended toward the figure. The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, the light of his attack piercing through the abyss.
For a moment, there was silence.
And then, from the void, a faint whisper.
Figure: Interesting...
To Be Continued....
End Of Arc 4 Chapter 13.