Creation Of All Things

The ground shook.

The Architect finished changing—no longer the still, robed specter who spoke in riddles. He was now flesh and terror, a titanic being of obsidian muscle veined with burning fault lines. His skin cracked and steamed like a volcano dressed as a man. His jaw split open down the middle, glowing with cosmic fire. Horns curled back from his head like twisted blades, and his eyes—no longer hidden behind porcelain—were pits of gravitational hate.

Joshua didn't move.

He stood there with one hand on his blade, fire lacing the edges of his silhouette, a quiet storm waiting to scream.

The Architect raised a hand the size of a throne and clenched his fingers once.

BOOM.

The entire battlefield cracked downward, the floor breaking into spiraling steps of ruin and obsidian. Lava-like light surged through them. The sky above blinked red. Not with blood—but memory. It showed images: past battles, broken gods, dying worlds—all of them destroyed by the thing now facing Joshua.

"I ended pantheons," the Architect growled, his voice deeper now, layered with echo. "You were a prince once. Now you're just a name on a gravestone I forgot to bury."

Joshua slowly drew his blade from the Architect's skull. It hissed, steaming with molten ichor.

"You talk a lot for someone who's about to lose teeth."

The Architect charged.

CRAAAACK!

He moved like an avalanche, all power, all weight. His fist slammed down at impossible speed—Joshua barely sidestepped, the shockwave turning air into knives. Before the energy faded, the Architect swung again, his arm blurring with ruin energy, a backhand designed to rip timelines apart.

Joshua ducked, and slashed upward—his blade kissed the Architect's ribs, sending a line of golden fire slicing clean through his side.

The Architect grunted, stepping back.

Joshua launched forward, not giving space.

One slash—high. The Architect blocked it with his forearm, the blade biting halfway through.

Second slash—low. It sliced through the Architect's leg, ichor spraying.

Third—spinning diagonal, overhead.

The Architect caught it with both hands—and headbutted Joshua like a meteor.

BOOM!

Joshua flew back, his body skipping off the ground in a trail of sparks before he flipped mid-air, landed, and slid, sword dragging behind him. His nose bled. He wiped it with the back of his hand.

"Alright," he muttered. "You got one."

The Architect raised both arms.

From above, the sky peeled open. Not like clouds parting—like reality being unzipped. From within poured black tendrils of reversed light—memories of gods who never existed, limbs of deities erased by time, fragments of divine guilt given shape.

They rained down.

Joshua spun his blade once—and then drove it into the ground.

FWOOOOOM.

A pulse of fire and will exploded outward in a perfect dome. The tendrils hit it—burned away. Screaming in a hundred dead languages.

The Architect stepped into the fire.

It parted around him, refusing to touch him.

"Still hiding behind technique," he spat. "Still leaning on borrowed power."

Joshua lifted his blade again.

"Nah," he said. "I own this now."

He raised his left hand—fingers curled—and then snapped.

The entire platform shook.

Chains burst upward from the ground—fiery, jagged, roaring with divine seals. They latched onto the Architect's arms, legs, neck. Pulled taut.

The Architect roared, straining against them.

"You're using hellfire and light," he snarled. "Contradiction."

Joshua was already moving.

He blitzed forward—his body now a blur of golden-red flame. The moment he reached the Architect, he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Twenty. Thirty. Forty.

Every angle. Every joint. Every weak spot.

Each cut was a scar from the past.

Each blow, a memory of pain returned with interest.

The Architect broke free—roared—and slammed both fists down, erupting the ground in a pillar of ruin energy. Joshua was caught mid-attack, flung high.

But he twisted in the air—flipped—and pointed his blade downward.

With a war cry, he dove.

The blade hit the Architect's shoulder like lightning from the stars.

KA-KRAAAAK!

The Architect staggered—dropped to one knee, his back cracking open with divine steam.

Joshua landed behind him, panting, eyes glowing.

The Architect looked up, snarling.

"You always hated your own strength," he growled. "You never accepted what you were."

Joshua pointed the blade at his head.

"Wrong again."

His wings unfurled.

Not angelic. Not demonic.

A fusion of both. Wings of fire and shadows, of light and blood. Each feather twitched with will.

The Architect stood tall again.

"Then let me show you what you should've become."

He reached into his own chest.

And pulled out a core.

A pulsing orb of ruin, swirling with collapsed stars and broken echoes. He crushed it in his palm.

The battlefield exploded.

Space twisted. Time recoiled. The Architect's body turned jet black, his form now layered in floating glyphs and runes that orbited like planets. His voice was gone—replaced by soundless pulses of command.

He vanished.

Joshua's eyes widened.

Then—BOOOM!

The Architect hit him from behind, a punch that sent Joshua flying through three monoliths.

He landed, coughing blood.

Before he could rise, the Architect was on him—slam after slam, fists raining down like siege weapons. Each blow created a crater. The last one buried Joshua in the ground.

Silence.

Smoke.

Then—light.

The crater flared white.

The Architect stepped back.

Joshua rose.

Slowly.

Face bruised. Armor cracked.

But his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"You hit hard," he said. "But I hit back."

He gripped his blade in both hands—and the weapon changed.

Longer. Heavier. The edge glowed with living intent.

The Architect charged.

Joshua did too.

CLAAANG—!

Their weapons clashed. Shockwaves blew away the ruins around them.

They traded blows midair—Joshua spinning, slicing, deflecting.

The Architect using fists, elbows, knees—his body a weapon of ancient war.

They moved faster now—so fast even time seemed too slow to follow.

And then—

Joshua stopped running.

He stood still.

Waited.

The Architect lunged—full speed.

Joshua sidestepped.

And stabbed up.

SHINK—!

The blade pierced the Architect's stomach—through and through.

Joshua grabbed the hilt with both hands and twisted.

Golden fire erupted.

The Architect screamed—his body convulsing, bleeding ruin light.

Joshua stepped forward—face to face.

"You lost the moment you turned this personal."

He pushed the blade deeper—and then kicked the Architect back.

The titan stumbled, clutching the wound, shaking.

Joshua raised his blade again.

"Let's finish it."

The Architect stood tall—just once more.

Both of them breathing hard.

Both ready.

And then—

They charged.

Clashed in the center.

And the world broke.