The battle between Sora and the being known only as the Creator had stretched into what felt like an eternity, an hourglass with overflowing sand and with each passing moment a violent echo that reverberated through the broken chamber of mirrored floors. The ground beneath them—once pristine and gleaming with purity—was now soaked with blood, their reflections smeared across the crimson-stained glass like ghostly imprints, while the sky wept with the same crimson-red hue.
Sora gasped, her breath hitched as her chest heaved with exhaustion. The ethereal glow that had once shielded her bare body like a second skin had flickered and faded away, leaving the young woman greatly exposed and battered. Across from her stood the man whom she faced—the Creator—equally injured, equally broken. His eyes, like twin crimson rings forged from deception itself, glowed with a sinister light. Both combatants bore the posture of warriors on the verge of death; their backs arched under the weight of their fatigue, their arms limp and dangling as it was mangled from the ferocity of their exchange.
But it was Sora who bore the heavier cost. Her wounds were deeper, more vicious—gashes that would have felled even a seasoned warrior aged by centuries of war. And yet, against the howling tide of pain, she endured. She stood. She defied.
That very defiance ignited something vile within the Creator—a rage that sizzled beneath his cracked expression. "Its not over, I am not finished yet," he choked out, his fists. Yet even on the brink of ruin and damnation, he extended his hand. From the remnants of his dwindling magical essence, he conjured a long weapon—shaped from shadows and forged in chaos, a spear of dark intent. "You might have figured out a way to paralyze my chaos magic, but I still possess an arsenal of weapons!"
With a roar that split the air, the Creator summoned the last of his strength. Lunging forward, he flung the weapon with terrifying force. The sheer velocity ripped through the atmosphere, creating a storm of violent win in its wake. Sora could not move an inch of any part of her body—not out of choice, but because fear had clasped her legs in invisible shackles. She was paralyzed, rooted to the spot as her wide eyes watched death approach.
'Damn it—'
She squeezed her eyes shut, her face twisting with the grim acceptance of her fate. Her head tilted, bracing for the inevitable. The moment had come. This, she believed, was the end.
Halt—
Yet... nothing came. The agony she had prepared her soul for never struck. Time itself seemed to hesitate. The weapon had not impaled her, nor had its chaotic might ripped through her flesh. Her body still stood whole. Her breathing still echoed.
Bewildered, she dared to open her eyes.
There—before her, shielding her fragile body from the chaos—was a glowing force. A radiant shield, orange and surreal in its luminance, wrapped her in a barrier so beautiful, it appeared to be made of starlight and dreams. The glow shimmered in translucent waves, delicate yet impenetrable.
The Creator stared in disbelief, his expression unraveling into horror. 'Impossible,' he thought, rubbing his eyes as if to clear away some hallucination. "How!" he cried aloud, his voice laced with dread and disbelief. There was a knowing fear behind his voice—as if he understood something Sora had yet to grasp.
Her brows furrowed, sensing a shift in the air. Then, from the very space before her, a blinding orange light blazed forth, bathing her face in its brilliance. She winced, momentarily blinded. What was that? she thought.
As her pupils adjusted and the light resolved, clarity struck her like thunder. There it was. The message. Shimmering in flaming script—glowing with the same brilliant hue as the barrier.
◈Welcome Back Chaos Crafter◈
•System Reinforcing..
.0%...50%...100%
•Reinforcement Complete
"That's impossible!," the Creator screamed, forcing Sora to tear her gaze from the glowing message. Her eyes darted toward him, alert. "Such a mere mortal cannot possess such a power to break the system! Never!"
Break the system? The term echoed oddly in Sora's mind. System. The strange, divine tab that had appeared before her now had a name, and its sudden revelation chilled her. What did it mean to break such a thing?
The Creator let out a primitive roar—an unrestrained explosion of hatred and madness building up within him. Raising his arm into the swirling atmosphere, he summoned a legion of weapons. Each was born of chaos, forged in despair. Some resembled the very tools Sora had crafted during her long journey. Others looked ancient, relics of wars long buried in time.
Sora met his crazed eyes, which now reflected only delirium. A twisted grin split his face as he thrust his hand downward, releasing the full fury of his arsenal.
The weapons flew toward her at a speed that shattered sound itself. The ground shook. Reality bent. Though her protective barrier remained, it was no match for the overwhelming force. The weapons cracked through it like a hammer through glass, fracturing it into shimmering fragments that scattered like broken stars.
And then—chaos.
A golden explosion of immense magnitude erupted, consuming everything in its path. Its purpose was singular and absolute: to reduce Sora to ash.
The Creator, watching from the epicenter of his wrath, felt both satisfaction and disappointment. Though Sora had crippled a portion of his magic, her spirit had not matched the power required to win. He turned his back, solemn and hollow. His guilt weighed on him. This was not the outcome he had truly desired.
But then—pain.
A sharp, searing sensation burst through his back and out of his gut. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the heat of it rushed up his spine.
[Crafter Health Restored!]
Right behind him, Sora stood. Whole. Unscarred. Her hand gripped
Behind him, Sora stood. Whole. Unscarred, clothed in an armor from her inventory. Her hand gripped the hilt of a blade now lodged deep within the Creator's torso. Her eyes burned with recollection—remembering how she had cheated death itself.
The weapons had descended upon her, the end had felt almost inevitable. But in the final heartbeat before annihilation, she had found her opening.
◈Skill Activated: Metal Giant
She activated the skill—one she had obtained from the myhtic—and in the blink of an eye, dashed out of the weapon storm's path. Her inventories remained intact. She had chugged potions, restoring her strength, and rearmed herself.
Now, standing as the executioner, Sora ripped the blade from his flesh. A fountain of blood followed. The Creator collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged.
'How is this possible?,' he whispered in his mind, trembling. His skin paled, his fingers cold. This was not the Sora he had once known.
She advanced toward him. His gaze locked on her form and the way she moved—defiant and radiant. Her voice came sharp as steel in the form of a battle cry, "You have lost this battle, I advice you take me back to my timeline," she commanded, her blade leveled at him as her body was bathed in the light that clung to her skin.
The Creator raised his eyes to meet hers. In them he saw pure chaos—and serenity. Gold. Beautiful and terrifying.
He smirked, slowly bringing his hands together.
Sora tensed, preparing to strike.
Clap. Clap. Clap—
She halted mid-swing. He was... applauding? She watched, confusion stirring.
'What? Why is does he applaud?'
"Marvelous, Crafter," he said, his voice filled with praise and calm.
But what froze her in place... was that the voice came from behind.
She turned. Footsteps approached. Her eyes widened as she stared at the impossible—the Creator stood behind her, alive. Whole.
Spinning around again, she confirmed the one she had defeated still knelt before her, lifeless and bloodied.
The Creator smiled gently, almost kindly. "There is no use for you to turn your gaze," he said with a chuckle. "The opponent which you defeated is merely a clone, a fake copy of who I am and who I was."
Those words stabbed deep into Sora's chest. A clone? Then all of this... all of that blood, pain, and near-death agony—had it all been part of a deception?
"Now you have the chance... to kill me, why not just do it?," she muttered, holding her ground, her blade firm.
The Creator laughed, stepping back with a flourish. "A test?," he asked himself aloud, tilting his head with curiosity. "No Sora, My plan wasn't to kill you. I wasn't even going to keep you here."
Sora's face twisted in confusion. "You were not?," she asked, her voice heavy with disbelief. "Why? You had mentioned you wanted to keep me here."
He nodded slowly, shame flickering in his expression. Then he raised his head to meet her gaze, "Don't you see Sora? This was merely a test, and you were only able to pass ninety-nine percent of it."
A test? The thought thundered in her head. All of this had been a test?
"A test? Why that?," Sora asked, her voice thin.
The Creator shrugged. "Well I am not the almighty creator of the universe and everything that lives in it, I don't have any information in that. My only purpose is to fufill my purpose and test who are ready for the big calamity."
Her breath caught in her throat.
The big calamity?
Now that was something worth inquiring about and Sora needed to know.