The void-heart swallowed them like a black hole with teeth.
Danny felt the pull first—bones rattling, anomaly flaring in protest as reality compressed around him. One second they were charging; the next, the world narrowed to a tunnel of screaming shadows. Rezok's core pulsed ahead, a throbbing star of nothingness that drank light and spat distortion.
Shawny's hand slipped from his—gravity wrong, directions meaningless. "Danny!"
He twisted mid-fall, grabbing for her. Fingers brushed, then nothing. The crew scattered like leaves in a storm.
Big B's roar cut through the howl. "Hold on, you bastards!" His mech-arm dug into drifting obsidian, sparks flying as he tried to anchor the group. Fang beat wings furiously, talons snagging Sir Dracks' pauldron to keep from being swept away.
Sir Dracks swung his greatsword in wide arcs, golden fire carving temporary paths through the void. "The boy—find the boy!"
But Rezok laughed—deep, grinding, everywhere. "You charged into my heart. Now feel it beat."
Tendrils erupted from the core—thicker than before, veined with fractured time. One slammed Big B sideways; his arm screeched metal protest but held. Another wrapped Fang, yanking her into darkness; she screeched, slashing free with talons that drew starlight blood from the shadow.
Danny hit something solid—Rezok's chest again? No, a fragment of the shattered throne, floating in the collapse. He pushed off, anomaly surging. Time stuttered: he saw flashes of futures that never were—himself crumbling to dust, Shawny alone, the dojo un-rebuilt and burning.
"Fuck that," he growled.
Stolen novel; please report.
He leaped again, fist cocked. This time Rezok met him halfway—massive hand closing around Danny like a cage. Cold seeped in, inevitability whispering: You were never meant to last.
Danny roared defiance. The anomaly exploded outward—time rewound in violent bursts. Rezok's grip loosened fractionally; Danny twisted free, landing a kick that cracked obsidian skin.
The God of Death staggered—again. Surprise flickered in white-slit eyes.
But the core pulsed harder. Shadows reformed faster than they could be cut. The crew regrouped in fragments: Shawny slicing through tendrils to reach Danny, Big B blasting plasma to clear space, Fang diving with messages of "core weakening—hit it again!", Sir Dracks channeling golden fire into a blazing barrier.
For a moment, they pushed back. Rezok recoiled, throne remnants crumbling further. The collapse slowed.
Danny grinned bloody. "See? You're breakable too."
Rezok's smile returned—colder. "Amusing. But inevitability has backups."
The core split.
Three new voids birthed—smaller Rezoks, echoes of the god, each grinning the same jagged grin. One lunged at Sir Dracks; another at Big B; the third straight for Shawny.
The fight turned brutal.
Sir Dracks met his echo with sword and fire—clash ringing like bells in hell. Big B traded cannon blasts for claw swipes, mech arm denting deeper. Shawny danced between strikes, blade severing causality, but the echo adapted—learning her patterns.
Danny charged the original core again, but the split diluted focus. Every hit landed felt like punching water; the god reformed around the damage.
Fang screeched warning: "He's splitting the load—wearing us down!"
One by one, the echoes pressed advantages.
Sir Dracks took a hit—golden fire dimming as void seeped into armor cracks. Big B's cannon overheated, plasma sputtering. Shawny bled from a dozen shallow cuts.
Danny felt the Circle tighten—time trying to snap back, erase him. Each death-flash stronger: crew falling, dojo gone, everything reset.
He pushed harder. Punched. Kicked. Roared.
The core cracked wider—starlight leaking from Rezok's form.
But the god only laughed. "Enough playtime."
The three echoes merged back in a violent rush. Power surged. The collapse accelerated tenfold.
Reality folded in on itself.
Danny grabbed Shawny's wrist just as the void rushed to claim them. "We gotta—"
Too late.
The world blinked out.
