Chapter 56: The breaker of worlds.
The First Refusal moved first.
It was completely unannounced. There was no buildup to the occasion. Amon was standing in front of it.
The First Refusal had now turned into enormous creature. It filled up the whole of the ruined Second World horizon. And then, without any kind of warning, it had brought its fist down.
Instead of an explosion, however, the collision seemed to cause the Second World to bend around it. Mountains in the distance split apart, ancient cities were reduced to rubble, and the sky rippled as if being torn apart by an unseen hand.
Mountains and ancient buildings, deep in the ruins of old cities, were torn apart by the refolding of space as the Second World was smashed about by the titanic struggle.
Amon’s golden shining feet sank into the earth as he stood like a colossus bringing down a storm, his golden eyes locked onto his opponent as if time itself had ceased to flow.
Then he punched.
Doom!
His fist slammed into the First Refusal’s chest and the sound of the blow was like thunder through the Second World created at the dawn of time.
The creature’s massive form was sent crashing backward through the mountains and through the remnants of long-abandoned cities until it was lost on the horizon.
Amon moved immediately. With a burst of speed, he vanished from the site of their first encounter and appeared above the Refusal. He gripped his hands together within the cuffs of his Universal Authority and plunged downward once more.
In the First World, people looked up to the sky.
No one knew what was going on in the skies above. Many thought there had been an earthquake, while others believed that the heavens were collapsing. Yet again the worlds and planes of existence were being rocked by a far greater force than humanity could understand or comprehend.
Priests of the old Golden Guardian Temples in far-off realms of the Three Worlds of Reality were on their knees in desperation, for in a few brief moments the shakes of the most gigantic of cataclysms were echoing across Creation.
Far beyond them, in the Third World, something even older responded.
The roots of the Yggdrasil Tree trembled.
For thousands of years, the tree of Yggdrasil had stood majestically between worlds, its towering branches and impossible leaves stretching into infinity in realms and realities that were far beyond mortal comprehension.
The leaves on the branches of the tree shook even though there was no wind.
Forests and trees deep within the roots of the tree, worlds that no human could even imagine, were stirred by the echoes of Amon’s fighting with the First Refusal of the Universe.
Deep within the tree of Yggdrasil, the ancient ones who dwelt there opened their eyes. Some of these were older than Amon and had never heard his name.
Others had slumbered for so long that the First World had not yet come into being and it had as yet no sky.
Something was fighting.
Something powerful enough to make worlds tremble.
Back into the second world.
Amon finally emerged from the cloud of dust and wreckage that had been chasing him across the torn landscape of the Second World. There was blood at the corner of his mouth but otherwise he looked as calm and collected as ever.
In the far distance of the valley before him, he could see the enormous slow-rising form of the First Refusal, emerging from the mighty crater it had made upon its own descent to this world.
Many of the seals had been torn open, revealing great pools of blackness. The blackness, however, instantly began to mend itself together, piece by piece. Amon wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb.
"You’re harder to kill than I thought."
The First Refusal’s enormous eye narrowed.
"And you are finally beginning to resemble what the Creator feared. Tell me, immortal, why lock all that power?"
Amon disappeared.
Before it could even lift its arm, a fist collided with it. And again. And another ten times. Every blow found its mark.
Each blow was met by a limb of the First Refusal, masses of rejected existence striking back with increasing ferocity.
He cut through the arm with a single, heavy stroke of a blade of Universal Authority. Before he could turn, however, another arm snaked out of the darkness behind him.
He turned to receive the blow, his hands coming up to catch it and forcing him to bend his knees under the pressure of the enormous limbs.
For the first time, Amon was smiling.
Not because he was enjoying the fight.
Because he had finally found something that could withstand him.
"Come on," he whispered.
The First Refusal roared.
Their fists collided again.
The Second World shook.
The First World shook.
So did the third.
As the fight contunied on, damaging reality more and more.
The struggle continued with no respite for either combatant. Amon managed to escape the creature’s grasp before landing a kneecap to its solar plexus.
Once again, the cracked seal was subjected to considerable stress as the dark matter that comprised the body of the First Refusal flowed out like a river of night.
Yet, for some reason, it seemed to pull back together again, like a liquid that had been poured onto the ground and then suddenly drawn back up into a container.
Amon twisted free from the grasp of the creature and struck at the air with both of his forearms. He could feel the powerful force of his blows in the earth beneath him, and he used the momentum of his strike to propel himself upward from the ground, golden light bursting outward from his form as he returned to the air above the two combatants.
They met in the sky.
The two combatants continued to exchange blows. With each successive strike, visible scars would appear in the air for a few seconds before disappearing once again.
Although the First Refusal possessed a greater size and therefore greater reach than Amon, the young warrior’s speed was more than a match for the creature. He would frequently slip inside the First Refusal’s guard and deliver swift strikes to the already cracked seal.
On the third such strike, the seal would finally give way, and the surrounding darkness would stream out in a thick, black, liquid-like substance.
The First Refusal let out a loud roar as a stream of the very same stuff rushed past Amon. The Hero of Earth clenched his hand into a fist around the wet, dark matter, where it began to burn away like fire through wet wood.
A massive shockwave rocked the field when the creature’s arms finally broke apart. Landscape and structure alike were reduced to a flat plain as Amon, fighting to retain his consciousness, struggled to break free from the bizarre hold that the creature had maintained.
His arms were wrenched from side to side until they felt on the point of snapping and then, quite without warning, he was freed.
Amon drove his fist into the exposed wound. The First Refusal’s body convulsed and for a moment its form wavered, as if the darkness that made it up was losing coherence. Then the seals reformed, slower this time, and the creature straightened.
The First Refusal’s body began to convulse once again and for a moment or two Amon could have sworn that the creature was on the verge of collapse. But the dark matter that made up the creature’s form seemed to cohere once more, and with a jolt, the creature straightened up once more.
Amon landed on the edge of a broken ridge, wiping another stream of blood from his mouth. Although his body was holding up, the First Refusal was a hard opponent to fight against.
Not only was it large and powerful, it was also the symbol of everything that had been denied existence. In other words, it was stubborn. Just as stubborn as Amon.
Every so often the single eye would lock onto Amon in the midst of the destruction. The Third World was paying a huge price for this battle.
"Every action you take is to protect things that should have never existed," the First Refusal declared. "You’re only fighting because the Creator denied your existence and now you’ve torn the seal he had created for it. It was never intended that you would open that seal."
Amon just raised his hand and said nothing. Universal Authority began to gather on his fingers in tight, controlled threads and the First Refusal began to charge once again.
The two forces would now once again clash in the center of the destruction that was the Second World and be equally as devastating to it.
While the two forces tore at each other, far from the main battlefield, another scene unfolded in the remains of the Golden City.
Movement caused him pain. The Oracle’s body was badly damaged by the spells cast by Liliana, and the ruins of the Golden City Temple surrounded him like the rubble of a war between the gods.
He had been hurled through stone, buried beneath piles of rubble, and nearly been swallowed up by the very same blackness that had devoured the masses.
It was a wonder that he was still alive. Perhaps it was just coincidence. Maybe it was fate. Maybe he had to stay alive for a reason, for a future that he could see.
Then he saw her.
Liliana, still breathing.