"You have betrayed us for the last time, Ceris," a voice screeched within the confines of his mind. "Don't lecture me on betrayal. Your lust for power is the very reason everything I cherished is now dead," Ceris shot back, weaving through the blood-soaked battlefield, deftly leaping over fallen bodies. "I may die here, but mark my words: whether in this life or whatever damnation awaits me, I will see you dead." It was astonishing that his legs still obeyed him, especially after dying more than a hundred times. "Why do you two get to have all the fun?" came a voice from just behind him. "It's a miracle you've survived us all; I must admit, I'm rather pleased. You betray me, I kill you—now that's a dynamic I can appreciate."
A sudden gust of wind swept past Ceris as a nearby pillar crumbled, revealing a boy hovering above the chaos. His golden hair billowed, caught in an invisible current, while he donned a white cloak and a tattered green scarf. His eyes, vivid red as fresh blood, gleamed with delight, as though he reveled in the despair all around. Locking his gaze onto Ceris, mere miles away, The Boy appeared before him in an instant, a grin plastered across his face.
Ceris met The Boy's stare, unwavering, as he drew his sword and swung it with lethal precision. The blade glided through empty air, but rather than finding its mark, it unraveled a dark void before him. He prepared to dive into its depths.
"Tch, tch, tch, not this time," The Boy clicked his tongue dismissively. "Should I say 'death guarantee?'"
Ceris crumpled to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth as darkness swallowed his vision, his eyes rolling back into his head. The voice that had haunted his mind now appeared beside The Boy, a woman draped in a crimson cloak and sporting a matching ragged scarf.
"You know he will return, right?" she said, kneeling to examine the still form before her. "His sword is fading once again." A hollow impression lay in the muck where the weapon had rested, nothing but ash remaining.
"I know he'll be back, but it's such a thrill to see him run each time. It's like an endless hunt."
"You're a creep," the woman remarked pointedly.
"Cold, aren't you?" The Boy quipped, theatrically placing his fingers at the corners of his mouth to mimic a frown before bursting into laughter.
A resounding screech reverberated through the ground as both turned to witness a sword floating eerily in the air, cutting through the fabric of nothingness. The blade transformed into a portal, and a familiar figure emerged.
"Regrettably, I don't think I'll be visiting hell anytime soon," Ceris declared, the sword that had earlier felled him now levitating effortlessly in his grip.
"It's your turn now, Viray." He pointed at the woman.
"You know my powers don't affect him for several minutes after he revives. No matter how much I might wish to, I can't end him," she retorted.
This time, Ceris did not flee. Instead, he swung his sword repeatedly, cleaving through what could only be described as the essence of time itself. The Boy, unfazed, dodged with a casual yawn, as if this spectacle was merely an entertaining distraction.
"It's saddening sometimes, your weakness, I mean", The Boy continued. "You will never win. Why do you keep trying? Why do you keep fighting? WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK", The Boy incrementally increased the intensity of his voice whilst continuing to dodge the oncoming slashes.
"Death by evaporation, probability 100%", The Boy shouted whilst a smirk formed on his face.
Ceris staggered as an invisible force gripped his body, wringing every ounce of moisture from his being. His breath hitched—lungs burning, throat tightening as if filled with sand. His vision blurred, a haze of unbearable heat distorting the battlefield around him.
His tongue curled, dry and useless, splitting apart as though it had been scorched for an eternity. He tried to scream, but only a hoarse rasp escaped, swallowed by the oppressive silence.
His muscles convulsed. Skin that had once been taut with battle-worn strength now cracked like brittle parchment. Deep fissures tore across his arms, steam hissing from the gaping wounds as the blood within thickened into sluggish, dying rivers.
The Boy watched with unmasked delight. "Fascinating," he murmured, tilting his head as Ceris's form deteriorated before him. "The way the body resists, even when it knows the end is absolute. I could watch this forever."
Ceris dropped to his knees. His vision tunneled. His heart, once a steady drum of defiance, now stuttered—each beat slower, weaker. His body trembled, fighting the inevitable, but it was useless. He was drying out from the inside.
With a final shudder, his body began to collapse in on itself. His fingers, once strong enough to wield a sword against gods, crumbled into dust. His lips, curled in defiance just moments before, peeled away into nothingness. His eyes, once burning with unyielding will, disintegrated into the void.
A gust of wind swept through the battlefield, carrying away the last remnants of Ceris.
The Boy exhaled, watching the dust swirl into the air.
"You know, I'm both disgusted and impressed," the woman remarked. "How do you even come up with ways to kill someone like that?"
"After a few millennia of killing the same person in every way imaginable, you have to get a little creative," The Boy said, standing tall as if she had just paid him a compliment.
The woman folded her arms. "Why not just make his death permanent? Or ensure he loses this battle outright?" She was the newest among the Seven Viralds, and it showed. "Ceris is our enemy, sure, but keeping him alive for so long feels like inviting disaster. Even if the chances are low, isn't it better to end him for good?"
The Boy sighed, almost bored. "I've tried everything. Increasing the probability of him losing. Fixing his death as an unchangeable event. Even trapping him in an infinite death loop. Those screams got unbearable after the first few centuries." He glanced at the sword, now disintegrating into nothingness.
The woman cringed. He probably tortured Ceris for centuries. The thought unsettled her. What had he done to deserve this?
Viray didn't have the slightest idea who Ceris was. She hardly recalled why she was even on this battlefield. Her mind was a haze of fractured memories—a woman handing her apples, the distant echo of laughter. And then, she had awoken on this barren, war-ravaged world, surrounded by devastation. The Boy had approached her, offering nothing but a cryptic greeting:
"Ah, so it's you this time."
Ominous? Absolutely. But she hadn't wanted to be alone, especially not when he was powerful enough to survive whatever cataclysm had turned this planet into a wasteland.
Viray shook off her thoughts. "Fine. I'll do something this time, but you need to keep him distracted for a few minutes." She hated how much she depended on The Boy, but there was no time for doubt. She shoved aside the lingering question—why were they even killing Ceris?—and began to chant.
"What are you—" The Boy started but quickly stopped himself. If I interrupt her, we'll both be dead.
Her chanting was strange. The words twisted unnaturally, almost like someone had stuffed their mouth full of Johlips—gelatinous orange insects that burrowed deep underground, prized as a quick, nutritious food source for soldiers—and then tried to speak Brojilian, the guttural tongue of lime-green creatures with curved horns jutting from their chins.
The Boy shuddered slightly but said nothing. Whatever she was doing, it was better to let it happen.
The world trembled once more as the floating sword carved a gaping void before The Boy. From its depths, Ceris stepped out.
"That one hurt," he admitted, rolling his shoulders, "but not as much as looking at your face. I'll give you credit, though—you're getting creative."
It was remarkable how he stood with such unwavering confidence, even in the face of inevitable death.
The Boy smirked. "I won't be the one fighting you this time. It's her." He gestured toward Viray.
Ceris raised an eyebrow. "Centuries of murder and torture, and this is the first time I've seen you give up your fun?" His gaze flickered to the woman, who was still deep in her chant. "Will you intervene in our fight?"
The Boy shrugged. "My only concern is making sure she finishes that chant. After that? Even if you kill her, I won't care." He shifted his stance, prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
Without another word, Ceris attacked.
The battle unfolded like all the others before it—and the one before that, and the one before that. His slashes barely missed their mark, streaks of glowing purple aura crackling around them as they cut through the air.
"You're too angry. Calm down," The Boy chided, effortlessly evading each strike. "Vi, are you done yet?"
"Yep."
Viray lifted her hands, and in them swirled an enormous orb of raw magic—so vast, so dense, it was unnatural for a single person to wield. Yet, for her, it came effortlessly.
In an instant, the magic surged from her palms, forming a translucent bubble around Ceris. Without warning, it collapsed inward, slamming him into the ground with an earth-shattering force. His bones burst into the air, scattering like debris, as if a Golaxian—a colossus so massive that its weight surpassed entire planets—had crushed him beneath its heel.
The Boy let out a gleeful laugh, eyes wide with delight. "Wow! You had that kind of power, and you weren't even fighting?"
Viray exhaled. "I can do much more. With that chant alone, I can keep him down for a year without any problems. I just couldn't do it before—he comes back too fast."
The Boy glanced her up and down, intrigued. "I feel like we're going to be great partners."
But then—the world shook.
This time, it was different.
The Boy's eyes narrowed. He felt… nothing.
No power. No magic. Just emptiness.
His head snapped toward Viray. She was staring at her own hands in horror. The glow that had always surrounded her was gone.
Then, a void portal yawned open once more.
Ceris stepped out. But this time, something was different.
He carried himself with absolute certainty, his smirk brimming with something dangerous.
"Hey," he greeted smoothly. "What happened to your powers?"
The Boy's expression twisted into fury. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" he roared. "WHERE ARE MY POWERS?!"
Ceris chuckled. "Let's just say… no one will be seeing them again for a very, very long time."
Before The Boy could react, his body began to age.
Years passed in seconds. His youthful form withered, skin sagging, limbs trembling, bones shrinking. His golden hair dulled to gray, then white. His body collapsed inward until he was nothing but a shriveled husk, a lifeless bag of bones.
Viray stood frozen, staring in disbelief. The man who had protected her—the one who had wielded millennia of power—was gone.
And the one they had tormented for centuries now stood before her, alive. Stronger. Completely unafraid.
She closed her eyes, bracing herself for death.
But it never came.
When she finally opened them, Ceris was gone.
Nothing remained of him but a wisp of dust, scattering into the wind.
Ceris had died. Permanently.