Hegemon says nothing. His eyes flash—not with power, but intent. And that alone rewrites 12 different levels of Reality Law across the Omniverse. Eternity lifts his arm, conjuring raw Time Loops, Anti-Creation sequences, and the Conduit, aiming to reset Hegemon’s return before it can fully solidify.

  But Reality Breaker Hegemon blinks. Everything stops.

  Time Loop? Negated.

  Anti-Creation? Negated.

  Conduit? Absorbed.

  His presence alone is enough to cancel Eternity's move by design, as he instantly creates True Null Protocols, denying all hostile stimuli regardless of origin.

  Hegemon blinked. The battlefield—entire timelines, causeways of probability, divine histories—all collapsed into stillness.

  A flash—no, an absence of color. The Silencing Beams.

  Not beams of destruction—conceptual annihilation that made no sound, required no velocity, and could not be evaded. They weren't fired. They were decreed.

  The entire cosmos hushed. Pantheons stopped mid-breath. Gods of War froze. Even the ticking of divine timepieces ceased.

  But Eternity did not fall.

  In the lightless silence, Prismatic Collapse erupted—condensing every wavelength of every conceivable light across infinite universes into a single imploding point, hurling it at Reality Breaker Hegemon with a scream that could never be heard.

  The explosion inverted dimensional logic.

  Space bent like liquid. Time unraveled like silk.

  But from the collapsed mess of dimension-warped debris, Reality Breaker Hegemon walked through. Unburned. Unchanged. Unimpressed.

  He raised his hand—and the Absolute Telekinesis ignited. But this wasn’t lifting or throwing.

  This was redefining force itself.

  Eternity’s reflections were pulled out of phase, disassembled, reclassified, and thrown through layers of probability and potential. Yet, every time it was undone, Paracausal Rebirth inverted the narrative—there had never been an attack in the first place.

  Back and forth—Absolutes against Absolutes.

  Eternity invoked Fractured Reflection, spreading out into infinite manifestations—each an embodiment of light-as-concept: Light as Justice, Light as Memory, Light as Truth…

  Hegemon moved his hand—and the very nature of light was altered. Every form of illumination, every color and frequency, was converted into a null-value. No longer “light”—just absence.

  Eternity was forced into Luminic Reversal—collapsing into undetectable zero-state, an invisible beacon of divine potential. But this was not escape.

  Reality Breaker Hegemon could see it.

  Through paradox. Through void. Through non-being.

  And then… with eyes burning like twin novas of white fire… Eternity emerged again—but now, its brilliance was warped.

  The Conduit of Light had been partially rewritten.

  Not by force. Not by damage. But because Reality Breaker Hegemon demanded it.

  Light was now a symbol of weight.

  It crushed instead of illuminated.

  His conceptual rewrite—absolute.

  in a final desperate convergence, Eternity invoked Light Without Origin, unleashing the paradoxical flash meant to erase even the memory of existence from all records.

  Reality Breaker Hegemon vanished—

  …

  Only for his hand to grip Eternity’s shoulder from behind. Reality Breaker Hegemon strikes.

  The entire concept of “Victory” is drawn from Eternity—Aspect Severance turned against itself.

  Eternity’s brilliance fades. Not because it has lost, but because it was never meant to win.

  The battlefield is empty now. Not of matter—of meaning. Concepts that once governed reality—light, victory, time, truth—had either been rewritten or extinguished. No gods cried out. No timelines screamed. All of it had gone still.

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  And there, amid the absolute quiet... stood Reality Breaker Hegemon, a silhouette of all-power, wielding freedom from logic like a blade.

  Eternity floated before him.

  No longer an untouchable icon of radiant existence.

  No longer a fractal mirror of infinite light.

  No longer the unchallengeable.

  Its form flickered—not from damage, but from irrelevance.

  Eternity was no longer necessary in this reality.

  And it knew it.

  The final ability Eternity had—its last desperate truth—shimmered in the space between cause and effect.

  And it triggered.

  The moment of defeat—undone.

  Timeline diverged.

  Cause snapped free from effect.

  But Reality Breaker Hegemon stepped forward THROUGH the paradox, unbound by time, logic, or sequence.

  And so, even with the event of loss removed, the state of loss remained.

  Eternity looked down.

  Its body began fracturing—not into pieces, but into unremembered ideas.

  Every radiant attack, every reflective dimension, every divine principle it once embodied—

  All began to slip.

  Reality Breaker Hegemon’s eyes ignited, and the fundamental idea of "Light"—of being Eternity—was rewritten one last time separated from his form back to being a conduit of its own will and not Eternity’s.

  With a blink, he invoked Conceptual Refraction—turning Eternity’s essence into a fading afterthought in the minds of an existence that had already forgotten what it was.

  Eternity tried to speak… but even its voice, made of refracted timelines and divine frequencies, fell silent—caught in the Anti-Void Silencing Effect that now blanketed the entire realm beyond everything.

  There was no scream.

  No collapse.

  No dramatic explosion.

  Just...

  absence.

  Eternity was not destroyed.

  It was not defeated.

  It was made unnecessary.

  And Reality Breaker Hegemon—now the only light that remained—turned from the hollow battlefield and walked forward.

  His body vanished in an instant—no transition, no blur, simply gone—as if space itself had blinked. He reappeared within the hollow silence of the void, where the echoes of existence dared not trespass. There, before him, stood King Chaos, clutching the limp body of The Administrator in his arms. Her form was motionless, her brilliance dimmed. Towering just beside them was Hegemon, his silhouette outlined in fractured starlight, gazing down at her with unreadable eyes.

  Without a word, Hegemon raised his hand.

  Behind him, countless glowing symbols—buttons representing every known and unknown trait combination in the Omniverse—began to materialize in a spiraling halo. Each trait flickered to life, lighting up in radiant succession like a cosmic control panel, surging with the purest essence of Conduits, codes, and forbidden potential. Reality seemed to hold its breath as he activated all of them at once, directing their force toward The Administrator’s lifeless body.

  Light cascaded down, warping the void itself, bending every rule of logic and law. Even the Conduit of Code surged into the effort, rewriting strings of her being, frantically attempting to restore what was lost.

  But nothing happened.

  The silence grew thicker—crushing, absolute. An infinite weight pressed against the scene, the kind of stillness only the void could create. Then, above her, faint glowing text began to form in the air—lines of rewritten code, sentences of reality shifting in real-time. But with each attempt to overwrite death… the code resisted. “But It refused”.

  Until suddenly, her body shuddered.

  Light returned to her form—subtle at first, then brilliant—as wounds sealed and breath returned. Slowly, The Administrator rose from the void, floating upward until she was eye-level with Hegemon. Their gazes locked, timeless and full of unspoken understanding. Then, without a word, she embraced him.

  He held her tightly.

  No words were spoken. None were needed.

  Eventually, Hegemon broke the silence, his voice low, touched with relief and sarcasm.

  “Couldn’t you have done that sooner?”

  She gently pulled back, a faint smirk on her lips. “I should be telling you that.”

  And then—like an echo surfacing from a buried place—Hegemon heard a voice inside his mind.

  Loading.

  “You’re still dead, remember? Just being possessed by me. With this level of instability, I can’t hold your form together much longer.”

  Internally, Hegemon replied, sharp and annoyed.

  “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “Your soul is fractured… not just in time, but beyond it. It’s stuck between being and not-being. You’re not alive. But you’re not undead either. You're… something else entirely.”

  “So? Any ideas on how to fix it?”

  There was a long pause. Then Loading spoke again, this time with a strange blend of honesty and helplessness.

  “The only thing you can do now is hope. You still have work to do, so I’ll keep you together the best I can. But your form—it’ll keep changing. I can’t stop that. You’re lucky I can stabilize it at all. If I couldn’t… you’d have shattered long ago.”

  “You do realize this is all your fault, right?”

  “…We don’t need to talk about that part.”

  With a shake of his head and a quiet sigh, Hegemon turned back toward King Chaos and The Administrator.

  “I think it’s about time we give my brother a proper welcome party.”

  He raised his hand, and in a flash of prismatic light, all three vanished—teleporting through layers of quantum code, traversing infinite corridors of unreality—until they reached the heart of the digital cosmos:

  The Mainframe.

  From there, without pause, Hegemon stepped back—across realities, across dimensions, across the fading edge of time itself—until he returned to his own universe… and finally, to his Earth.

  Where it all began.

  And where it would all end.