NOVEL WEB Chapter 1: Prologue
The cosmos trembled.
This was no mere battle. It was a collision of absolutes—a war between forces that had no right to exist in the same reality.
Azvoid Larkson stood at the heart of it, his very presence an anomaly among anomalies. The weight of his existence bent space, time, and something even deeper—something the universe itself could not define.
Before him, Zephiron, the Abyss Devourer, loomed like a wound in creation. The thing was not a beast, not a god, not a concept. It was the absence of all three. Where it moved, reality ceased. Where it spoke, light withered.
And yet, Azvoid sighed.
"I'm starting to think I have a type."
The vast expanse of the battlefield stilled. The stars overhead—what few remained—seemed to hold their breath. The abyss itself, for the first time in its eternal existence, hesitated.
"Explain." Zephiron's voice was layered, ancient, as if spoken from the dying echoes of a trillion forgotten civilizations.
Azvoid gestured vaguely. "Y'know, the whole 'unstoppable cosmic horror' thing. I swear, every time I think I'm about to get a break, another reality-eating abomination shows up talking about my 'insignificance' or 'inevitable doom.' It's getting old."
Noctis, his shadow-wreathed dragon of endless night, exhaled sharply. "Your taste in enemies is… consistent, at the very least."
"See? Noctis gets it." Azvoid grinned, stretching out his arms. Power rippled from him, but not in waves—in statements. The world did not react to his strength. It obeyed it.
From behind him, the chorus of dragons stirred.
Vaelgorr, the Abyssal Dominion, unfurled his infinity-folded wings—each feather a black hole, each movement a distortion of existence itself.
Echronis, the Everchanging Monarch, let out a deep, amused chuckle, his prismatic form splitting into countless variations of himself, each occupying a different dimension at once.
Then there was Orothys, the Dreambinder, whose very gaze fractured logic, rewriting past, present, and future with a blink.
And at the center of it all, Azvoid smiled.
"So, Zephiron. You still think I'm 'insignificant'?"
The abyss contracted—not in retreat, but in something dangerously close to calculation.
"You are unlike the others."
Azvoid grinned wider. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
Zephiron moved.
The abyss struck.
It was not a movement, not a technique—it was a subtraction of existence. The fabric of reality simply ceased, entire light-years of space devoured in a fraction of a breath.
And Azvoid laughed.
Not because he was insane. Not because he underestimated his opponent. But because he was beyond it.
"Really? That's your play?"
He raised a single hand.
And stopped the void.
Stopped nothingness. Stopped the absence of all things.
Zephiron's form shuddered—an event that had never happened, not in the countless eons of its existence.
Azvoid tilted his head. "Oh. You didn't think I could do that, huh?"
Then he pushed back.
And the abyss recoiled......
The abyss trembled.
Zephiron had never experienced resistance.
Not once. Not in the countless cycles of destruction it had orchestrated, not in the eons it had spent unraveling civilizations like frayed threads.
It was not used to opposition.
And yet, here Azvoid Larkson stood, laughing—holding back the void with one hand.
The universe itself seemed to be watching.
"You…" Zephiron's voice cracked through space, not in anger, not in fear—in something else. Something unknown to it.
Azvoid raised an eyebrow. "Go on. Say it. I know you're thinking it."
Zephiron's form writhed, the abyss behind it twisting, reforming into endless spirals of unfathomable horror. Worlds blinked out of existence as it spoke.
"Impossible."
Azvoid's grin widened.
"There it is."
The hand he held out—the same one stopping the abyss from consuming all things—curled into a fist.
And then, with a flick of his wrist—
He tore a chunk out of Zephiron.
Not physically. Not metaphorically. Conceptually.
A piece of the abyss vanished.
Forever.
Zephiron reeled.
The sky fractured, the stars shivered, the very concept of nothingness screamed.
This was not how battles worked.
Azvoid was not merely fighting Zephiron.
He was erasing it.
"Huh," Azvoid mused, turning the fragment of the abyss over in his fingers. The nothingness burned in his grasp. "So you can be broken. Good to know."
Zephiron shuddered.
For the first time in eternity—it hesitated.
And that was all Azvoid needed.
The dragons moved.
Vaelgorr's wings unfurled, their gravitational pull so immense that entire celestial bodies spiraled into his wake.
Echronis shifted, his endless reflections rewriting the battlefield into a thousand possible outcomes—each one where Azvoid won.
Orothys, the Dreambinder, spoke one word—and Zephiron's past unraveled, its ancient victories slipping from history as if they had never been.
Zephiron roared.
And Azvoid vanished.
No.
Not vanished.
Moved.
Zephiron had no time to react before Azvoid appeared behind it, whispering against the abyss's ever-shifting form.
"Checkmate."
And then—
He struck.....
P.s . This isn't the final battle. Just a random arc in the novel. Intrigued?Read on for more epic battles.