MMORPG : Ancient WORLD

"Dark Soveranity."
Alex uttered the silent words under his breath, and as true darkness claimed a piece of the world for itself, his two ancient eyes settled on the looming figure of the Moth Empress.
The clear, white, almost translucent bow was pulled taut. The arrow, fixed in its grasp, shimmered like a radiant star. Having reached the epitome of its power, its very presence distorted both space and void alike.
The monochrome world of black, gray, and white that Alex saw began to shift. The web of shimmering strings that had grown around him —the construct of the Fate Crucible, the weave of destiny itself —all faded into a white blur, no longer the point of focus.
The world, slowly losing its structure, was being erased by the ravenous claws of the expanding domain of nothingness. The wind, the space, the void, even the tumultuous energies that once permeated the air, all dimmed away.
Finally, in Alex’s vision, there was only himself standing below, and far above, suspended in the dim sky, loomed the silver figure of the Moth Empress.
One of his two blades, Misery, had long vanished into his space ring. Now, in his grasp, rested Sorrow, its obsidian blade indistinguishable from the surrounding darkness, as though carved directly from it.
Alex was not given any more time. From the moment she had drawn her bow until now, less than ten seconds had passed, and whether finished with her preparations or having received the command, the Moth Empress let the arrow loose.
The pristine white arrow shot through reality like a shooting star, leaving a trail of shimmering light in its wake, not because it couldn’t contain its power, but because the very fabric of existence was coming undone behind it.
Alex watched as the arrow came straight for his head. He was given only a fraction of a second before it was upon him. Unblinking, he raised Sorrow.
The blade’s edge was no longer drowning in layers upon layers of unified weapon intent, nor in overwhelming darkness.
The weapon itself was as pure as it could be, yet its edge shimmered with a silent, dark glow, barely distinguishable from its tenebrous form and the surrounding domain of nothingness.
"Silence."
The word was not spoken by Alex. It surfaced in his mind, a thought, a command, a truth, as his form blurred. He brought the sword up, back, and through, a complete moon-draw in less than a fraction of a second.
For a moment, it seemed as though Alex had missed his mark. The arrow still stood, whole and steady, inching closer until it touched his forehead. But instead of piercing through him, its form began to fracture, breaking apart into pale, fading embers.
The next instant, dozens of threads descended upon Alex from all sides, yet they passed harmlessly through him as his body collapsed into black smoke, melting into the domain of nothingness.
Above, over the vast expanse of the Dark Enclave, the Moth Empress stood frozen, her bone-white figure now marred by a dark diagonal line that ran from her head down to her knee.
Reality itself reeled from her attack. A path of white, like a window into the realm of souls, stretched before her, and now, another wound had been carved into existence, overlapping with the wite trail, a dark split of nothingness stretching to some length, born from the same slash that had split the Empress.
Alex stood behind her, the pitch-black shroud covering him like a living cloak, expanding by the moment as it devoured the surrounding reality, leaving only absence in its wake.
The silent maw of nothingness swallowed the Moth Empress. Her form resisted erasure, but under the crushing authority of oblivion, she could not endure.
In moments, one arm, parts of her legs, and half her face were gone, and then her body turned ethereal, and she vanished into thin air.
Alex looked down at Zarach, who had a look of surprise written all over his face, only for it to be replaced by a flash of anger, and then by a mask of silent coldness.
Alex couldn’t help but feel a quiet delight at the reaction, but the emotion quickly froze into stillness as he reminded himself that while he had dealt a crushing blow to Zarach, it had come at a price.
The skills Alex had used to achieve his success were Dark Sovereignty, Concept of Severance, and finally Error, all three among the most powerful means in his arsenal.
Dark Sovereignty was an application of Darkness, a field made of Nihility that stripped reality away like an eraser scraping words from paper.
Beyond its immense destructive power, it nearly erased Alex’s own presence, which was why he was able to catch the empress spirit off guard.
The second skill, Concept of Severance, or Silence, as he called it, was a technique he had acquired from his nameless battle art. It allowed Alex to cut through anything —whether physical, conceptual, spiritual, or even thought itself.
However, mastering such fine control over Severance was not possible for him at the moment. Alex couldn’t maintain it for more than a single second, and under normal circumstances, he could only manifest the concept before it dissipated, making it of little practical use.
But Alex wasn’t limited to normal circumstances. He had found a way to maintain silence for multiple seconds by using Error.
The Concept of Severance collapsed not because of weakness, but because of its advanced and complex nature. The intent Alex manifested was inherently meant to cut through everything in reality —raw, untamed, and pure in its essence.
With so little understanding or control over such a force, directing it with precision was nearly impossible without first learning to manifest that intent with a specific purpose.
Yet Alex had found a way around it. By embedding a minor error into the manifested Severance, he disturbed its nature just enough to stabilize it. The flaw forced the concept to adapt, holding together for some seconds before collapsing.
This was enough time for Alex to execute a strike, one capable of cutting through nearly anything. Sure, the result depended on the potency of the manifested Severance intent, but to any degree, it was lethal.
So, no doubt, Alex had used all his best means, yet, seeing what he had achieved, it was well worth the cost.
"Clap... clap... clap..."
A slow clapping echoed through the groaning of the mending reality as Zarach rose above the Dark Enclave. The vast enclave below shifted and moved like a colossal giant, dragging its immense form back to its master’s side.
Zarach clapped, his expression cold and unamused. Behind him, the spirit of his Empress floated silently, her ethereal form still struggling to recover from the grievous wound.
"It was amusing at first, watching you struggle with such desperation," Zarach said, his tone light yet edged with irritation. "But now... you’re beginning to test my patience."
As his words faded, the spirit moved. Her spectral body drifted forward and embraced him. In the next instant, she dissolved into pale mist, threads of ghostly white seeping into Zarach’s being while the rest coiled around him like a flowing mantle.
His eyes dimmed to a glassy glow, and his voice fell to a cold whisper. "I’m done playing games with you."
A small smirk touched Alex’s face. The battle had just grown immensely in difficulty, yet it was also nearing its conclusion. That meant he no longer needed to hold anything back.
Zarach’s strength lay in his elements, Fate, Soul, and in the aid of the Moth Empress. His Feybound form granted him a significant boost, allowing him to wield both elements in immense harmony.
But those were only his surface powers. Zarach’s true strength lay in his unknown nature, as almost nothing was understood about his abilities.
Sure, Alex possessed skills like Error, with its countless uses, and the Concept of Severance, unknown to the wider world, but even so, his arsenal had limits, even predictable ones, and Zarach knew that.
While Alex knew only what Zarach had chosen to reveal, who could tell how many secrets the scion of a great clan still had hidden?
This was why Alex had been cautious from the beginning. He understood what he was up against. Even with his vast reserves of mana, if he went all out, it would not last long, and surely, Zarach possessed the means to survive even a few fatal strikes.
But now, Zarach had been pushed into a corner and chose to reveal his true strength, placing himself on the same stage as Alex.
Now, both of them were on a countdown.
It took mere seconds for the transformation to unfold. The pale mist spiraled tighter around Zarach, condensing into a solid, tangible form.
From his ribs and shoulder blades sprouted three pairs of new arms, translucent, spectral, yet disturbingly identical to his own.
The final change came to his eyes. Their color drained away completely, leaving them glassy and pupil-less, reflective, lifeless mirrors that saw everything yet revealed nothing.
The air around him seemed to warp, threads of fate trembling in either excitement or fear of what he had become.