CHAPTER 133: MARC VS SILAS 2

The ground smoldered where they stood, fissures glowing like veins of molten blood through the broken sector.

Silas clenched his fists tighter, the glow in his veins thrumming like a war drum. Marc rose across from him, calm, blood trailing from his lip but his expression still as still as stone.

Silas’s chest swelled. "You’re not untouchable."

He blurred forward, the rubble exploding under his boots. His fist cracked against Marc’s jaw, snapping the boy’s head to the side. Silas followed with another, hammering into his ribs, then an uppercut that sent him spiraling upward into the ruined sky.

Dust and stone rained in sheets.

Silas leapt after him, each movement detonating the ground below. His fists came like thunderbolts, every strike carrying the weight of absorbed energy, each blow glowing with stored light. He drove Marc back, further and further, pressing him like a storm.

Marc staggered, blood spraying with each impact, his once-perfect balance shuddering. For the first time, his calm cracked.

Silas roared. "Fall!"

His fists crashed down together, slamming Marc into the ground with an impact that shook the entire sector. The earth cratered for miles, smoke and fire rising in plumes.

Vyn shielded her face from the gale, chains wrapping around her as the shockwave threatened to hurl her away. Her silver eyes widened through the haze. Silas was pressing him. Actually pressing him.

But Marc...

Marc laughed.

It was soft. Calm. The sound of someone who had never cared about pain. His body twitched, then straightened, his empty eyes glowing faint white.

He raised a hand.

The world cracked.

The crater stilled. The rubble froze in midair. The fires stopped burning. Even the storm clouds above locked in place like painted canvas.

Silas froze, fists clenched. His chest still heaved, his glow still blazed—but the air around him felt wrong. Too heavy. Too absolute.

Marc’s lips moved. "You still don’t understand."

The sector bent.

Streets folded upward like paper, curling into the sky. Towers rebuilt and collapsed in the same breath, time reversing and then breaking all at once. The stars themselves twisted, rearranging into spirals.

Reality bent to Marc’s hands.

Silas cursed under his breath, his body straining. He blurred forward again, fists swinging. Each punch ripped with the glow of everything he’d absorbed, strikes like falling suns.

But Marc wasn’t there.

He was behind him. Ahead of him. Beside him. His body flickered through positions not meant to exist, fists striking from angles that bent cause and effect. Each blow landed before Silas even realized it was thrown.

Ribs cracked. Blood flew. His jaw split open again.

Still, Silas roared back, swinging harder. Every strike he took, he absorbed. Every blast that tore through him, he swallowed into his chest, until his body burned white-hot with energy.

His fist finally landed—straight into Marc’s face.

The impact tore the warped sky apart, shattering the broken stars. Marc’s body slammed back through what had once been a building, rubble raining like knives.

For a moment—just a moment—Silas had him.

But Marc stood. Calm. Always calm.

He spread his arms wide.

The sector convulsed.

Space inverted, pulling upward like an ocean tide. Entire districts lifted into the air, chunks of land the size of mountains breaking free and floating around them. The sky bled red. The stars vanished.

Marc’s voice rang cold, echoing like a god’s. "This world bends for me."

The floating landmasses spun, crashing together. Firestorms erupted from nowhere. Silas’s chest burned as he tried to anchor himself, boots digging into the ground, veins glowing with every ounce of power he could draw.

He bared his teeth, blood dripping down his chin. "Then I’ll break your world too."

He roared and unleashed everything.

The stored energy erupted from his chest, his fists, his very skin. A shockwave of pure light burst outward, colliding with the warped reality. The floating districts cracked, some shattering into dust under the sheer force. Firestorms sputtered out, bent back toward him and absorbed into his body.

Silas blurred forward, fists flying faster than sight, his body now a blazing beacon against the collapsing sector.

Marc blocked, twisted, countered, but his calm had shifted now. His brows furrowed, his steps less steady. For the first time, his reality wavered under Silas’s storm.

They clashed again and again, each impact flattening what little remained of Sector Eight. Shockwaves split the horizon. The earth screamed, the sky shattered, reality flickered like broken glass.

Vyn’s eyes darted between them, her chains barely holding the rubble back. Every clash felt like it would erase her on the spot.

Silas roared through the storm, fists blinding, each strike breaking Marc further, forcing him back one step at a time. Blood smeared Marc’s lip. His eye narrowed. His breath came just a touch sharper.

Silas grinned through the blood in his mouth. "Got you."

But Marc only raised his palm.

The world stopped.

The light in Silas’s body froze. His fists locked mid-swing. His breath caught in his throat.

Marc whispered. "You are strong. But you are bound."

The entire sector cracked downward, reality tearing like paper. The floating landmasses collapsed, slamming into the ground in waves. Silas screamed as his body was hurled back, blood bursting from his mouth, his aura flickering like a dying star.

He crashed into the rubble, the impact throwing dust for miles. His body twitched, his chest heaving, veins still glowing but dimmer now.

Marc walked toward him. Calm. Always calm. His voice was steady, merciless. "Endure all you want. Infinity cannot save you."

He raised his hand again, reality bending into a spear of light sharp enough to pierce worlds.

Vyn’s chains lashed out, silver light burning against the collapsing red sky. She staggered forward, body broken, chest heaving, but her eyes burned steady. She grabbed Silas by the shoulders, pulling him up, her aura flaring just enough to shield him from the crushing force.

Silas’s eyes cracked open. "Don’t..."

"Shut up," she hissed, blood spilling down her face. "We’re leaving."

Marc’s spear of reality hurtled toward them.

Vyn’s silver aura erupted, chains weaving into a cocoon around them. Her voice rang through the chaos. "Citadel Zero—lock!"

The air tore open.

In the blink of an eye, the two of them vanished, the teleport ripping them through the collapsing battlefield.

Marc’s spear obliterated the ground where they had stood, erasing it into nothingness. Dust and silence followed.

Marc lowered his hand slowly. His lips pressed thin, eyes empty again.

Behind him, Eron laughed weakly from the rubble, blood dripping from his chin. "You see? No one can stop him."

Marc said nothing.

The sector burned around them, half of it gone, erased into nothing by the battle. The war was only beginning.