Villain: Ultimate Mutation System in the Alternate World-Chapter 687: Peak Existence Part 4

The cosmos groaned. Reality was no longer a stage; it was a dying animal, thrashing in the talons of two opposing laws.

Asmon’s divine creation—a celestial leviathan composed of a million golden, grasping hands—swept through the space.

It was not merely a physical manifestation; it was the manifestation of intent. Every hand was a variable of causality, a decree of existence.

Where they reached, space solidified. Where they snapped shut, new, immutable physical constants were born.

Reign moved like a black-red comet, a jagged, discordant note in the symphony of creation. He did not dodge; he unmade the path before him.

He was a vacuum of existence, a living paradox that dictated nothingness.

When a golden hand attempted to bind him with the concept of "gravity," Reign simply erased the definition of weight from his own trajectory.

He blurred through the fingers, his aura carving scars into the golden construct.

"Your persistence is a glitch in my grand design!" Asmon’s voice resonated from everywhere and nowhere, amplified by the sheer density of his Law.

"Then I’ll be the silence that follows!" Reign retorted.

He lunged, his fists trailing streamers of absolute void. He slammed into the central core of the golden entity.

The impact was not a sound, but an event. The laws of momentum were suspended; the laws of heat were inverted.

The golden hands shrieked—a sound of tearing metal and rending spirit—as they dissolved into light ash.

Reign clawed his way forward.

Asmon did not retreat.

He converged his Law, compressing the volume of space around Reign.

The vacuum became stronger. Pressure mounted until the very foundation of Reign’s reality began to buckle.

"CRUSH!" the god commanded.

Reign felt his bones strain against the weight of a star, but he just laughed.

"You’re a bug in this universe!" Asmon sneered. "You should never have existed."

"If the universe hates me, then why does it keep making more room for me?" He pushed his own Law outward.

The Law of Absolute Destruction did not merely push back; it fed on the pressure. He channeled the weight Asmon placed upon him, compressing it into a singularity.

"Maybe you’re the one who should be taken out of the equation, old man!" Reign roared. He thrust his hand forward, and the space between them vanished.

Asmon barely moved, manifesting a shield of pure energy.

"You speak of ’taking me out of the equation’? I am the equation, boy! Every star, every atom, every breath of this reality is a syllable I have written. You are nothing but an error I am correcting."

Asmon’s shield pulsed, expanding into a complex geometric lattice of golden light.

"Definition: Immovability," he intoned.

The space around Reign instantly solidified. Gravity spiked to such intensities that light itself stopped moving, trapped in a crystalline prison.

Reign felt his movement stutter, his black-red aura flickering as the definition of ’motion’ was revoked from his immediate vicinity.

He snarled, the sound vibrating through the frozen time. His eyes burned, not with hate, but with an insatiable hunger.

"If you’re the equation, then I’m the zero that cancels it all out!"

Instead of fighting the pressure, he leaned into it, focusing the Law of Absolute Destruction not on the world, but on himself.

By unmaking the concept of his own physical limitations, there was no body left to be crushed, and thus no way to imprison him.

With a sickening crack that resonated across the space, his form blurred, transitioning from solid matter into a state of pure, entropic feedback. He poured through the golden lattice like ink dropped into a glass of crystal-clear water.

The lattice fractured. Asmon stumbled backward, his composure finally slipping as he watched his perfect prison dissolve into chaotic streaks of red and gold.

"You are a parasite!" Asmon shouted, his golden hands weaving frantically in the air to patch the reality his enemy was tearing apart. "I will rewrite you into a state of permanent non-existence!"

"Try it!" Reign countered, reappearing instantly before the Creator.

He drove a fist into Asmon’s gut, the impact vibrating with the sound of a shattering planet.

"I’m not a parasite! I’m the immune response to your stagnancy!"

Asmon recoiled, his golden armor splintering. He lashed out, calling upon the fundamental forces of the universe—the Strong Nuclear Force, Electromagnetism, and Gravity—to solidify into a blade of pure light.

He swung it, carving a gash through the vacuum.

Reign didn’t dodge. He caught the blade in his bare hand, his fingers bleeding crimson energy, and ate the light. He consumed the definition of the weapon, turning the Creator’s own energy into fuel for his next strike.

They were in a dance of total annihilation. Each time Asmon manifested a new law to trap or destroy Reign, Reign would dissect the concept and devour it, growing stronger, faster, and more volatile.

Asmon’s golden radiance dimmed, his face etched with the first lines of true exhaustion.

He looked at his hands, which were now translucent, his own structure being taxed by the sheer effort of maintaining his Law against the relentless tide of Reign’s consumption.

"You have no idea what you’ve done," Asmon wheezed, his eyes flickering with a desperate, ancient light. "You think you’re winning? You’re just accelerating the death of everything!"

"Then let it end!" Reign roared, his presence now dominating the fractured space. "I’d rather watch it all burn than live in your museum of a universe!"

Reign raised both fists, his aura flaring into a supernova of dark red.

He gathered the energy of a destroyed sun into his strike—a blow meant to destroy everything.

Asmon braced himself, gathering the entirety of his remaining essence into a final, blinding shield of Absolute Creation.

They struck. The collision shattered the very fabric of space.

Without warning, the space simply vanished.

"Nice one. Original." A third voice echoed. Re appeared, moving with a speed that made even light look like statues in a garden.

Re struck the god’s chest. Asmon tried to escape, only to find, to his shock, that his power had vanished.

"It’s useless, old man. It’s too late."