Chapter 12: Fair Fight In Hell?

Chapter 12

“Come on. Give me a break,” Vastro muttered.

He already knew it would not happen.

Moments later, they stood inside the vast stadium once more. The place felt endless, hollow, waiting to drink blood again.

“Before we start,” Vastro said quickly, “this time you’re not allowed to use any energy-based attacks. Give me a respite. You’ve seen it yourself. Most of my energy abilities are sealed.

That makes this unfair. If you want a fair fight, then fight me with just your physical might.”

The fake Vastro did not answer at first. He only stared, eyes distant, as if weighing something.

After a moment, he spoke. His voice was calm. Cold like falling snow.

“I accept.”

Vastro blinked.

Maybe he is not like me after all, Vastro thought. There was no way he would have agreed if the roles were reversed.

He celebrated too early.

“I will only use one energy-based technique,” the fake Vastro continued, his tone faintly amused. “Then no more.”

Vastro hesitated. One attack. He could take one.

He nodded.

The fake Vastro’s eyes gleamed dangerously. He spread his arms wide and spoke a single phrase.

“Colorless World – Diverge.”

Vastro’s heart froze. Blood turned to ice.

Damn it. Holy shit.

A faint, colorless ripple formed around the fake Vastro. Silent. Harmless-looking. Then it expanded, spreading outward until it sealed them both inside a closed dome.

The dome stretched as far as the infinite space they stood in.

Space distorted. Then collapsed inward.

Energy vanished…

The Blade of Oblivion lost its power. The blue cosmic flames in Vastro’s eyes were snuffed out.

His internal energy drained away like sand through broken fingers.

All that remained was flesh.

All that remained was bone.

He had been fooled. Completely.

“You damn bastard,” Vastro cursed, staring at his insane doppelganger.

The fake Vastro chuckled.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said lightly. “A fair fight.”

Then he moved.

With all energy sealed, Vastro was forced into a battle of pure force and technique. It ended faster than any before.

Too fast.

———-

Vastro lay broken beneath the fake Vastro’s feet. Bones shattered. Organs screaming. His body refused to obey him.

There was no helping it. His energy was gone. His physical body was inferior. He was not in the same league.

“Damn it,” Vastro spat weakly.

The fake Vastro lifted him by the throat with one hand. The other curled into a fist.

Vastro’s swollen eyes forced themselves open. He was beaten. Not just defeated. Reduced.

Still, he smiled.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

The punch passed straight through his skull.

Death came instantly.

And once again, Vastro found himself standing before the Abyssal Throne. The words spilled from his tongue like a curse he could not stop.

The reason Vastro thanked the other Vastro was not because he enjoyed getting beaten, nor because he liked his own cruelty.

No. It was because of something else entirely.

Vastro found himself standing right before the Throne of the Abyss, the words already rolling off his tongue like a curse he could not stop.

“I challenge you to eternal conquest.”

The other Vastro leaned forward on his throne, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“With pleasure.”

Once again, they were dragged back into the vast arena.

But this time, before anything could begin, Vastro acted first.

He concentrated and summoned a massive dome of chaos energy, sealing himself inside it .

Then he sat down at the center, legs crossed, eyes closed, entering a meditative state.

In his anger, in his sense of injustice, he had overlooked something important.

As cruel as his doppelganger seemed, Vastro now saw the truth. The time loop was not only torture. It was protection.

By looping time again and again, not endlessly but enough, the fake Vastro was unknowingly saving his life.

If he had not been given the chance to try again, if he had simply been erased without the loop activating, Vastro would already be dead. Worse. His soul would have been enslaved to Hell for eternity.

That was the rule of the Hell Trial.

Fail, and you did not simply die. You became property. A slave of Hell forever.

That fate was far worse than death.

Unknowingly, his insane counterpart had protected him from that end.

But the protection was limited.

Five trials left.

Five chances to defeat his peak self. After that, the final trial would begin.

Facing him head-on was pointless. Matching him in raw power was impossible.

His current self was far weaker than his peak. There was no hope that way.

Which meant his approach had to change.

And it already had.

Vastro closed his eyes fully, his mind sinking into universal truth. His consciousness burst outward, racing through possibilities at a speed no mortal, no god, could ever comprehend.

He was not always just a brute.

When he became too powerful, he relied on overwhelming force.

But beneath that was a genius. A strategist. An analyst born for war.

And now, he was thinking.

He searched every possible path to victory.

One by one, the possibilities collapsed.

Failure.

Failure.

Certain defeat.

Before he could stabilize his thoughts, the chaos dome around him shattered. The force of the blows was absolute.

Vastro was obliterated before he could even defend.

Death came again.

He stood once more before the Abyssal Throne. This time, he did not resist the words.

“I challenge you to eternal conquest.”

The fake Vastro leaned forward. His reply was no longer amused.

“Four more trials.”

The arena reformed around them.

This time, Vastro did not hesitate.

He summoned countless constructs, flooding the field to stall his opponent. Then he layered more than ten chaos domes around himself, sealing them tight.

Only then did he enter the universal comprehension state once more.

His mind resumed calculation from where it had been cut off.

Hundreds of possibilities were calculated in a mere moment. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

Not a single ending showed victory.

It was troubling, to say the least.

He ran a few thousand more simulations.

His mind screamed under the strain and finally he was forced out of the state. His eyes snapped open just in time to see the last layer of his chaos barrier shatter.

Vastro was revealed.

He was drenched in blood. His summons lay torn apart around him, erased completely. Some of them had been close to, or even touching, the Existential Source Realm.

That alone showed how vast the power of the fake Vastro truly was.

The fake Vastro looked down at him, calm, cold, almost bored.

“No matter how much you plan,” he said, his voice eerily confident, “there is no path where you defeat me.”

A colossal greatblade formed in his hand, its presence crushing the space around it.

Vastro smiled.

Seeing that expression on his own face made something twist in him.

“Tired already?” Vastro said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll end you soon.”

The greatblade fell.

Vastro was cleaved in two and died instantly.

He stood once more before the Abyssal Throne of Eternity, the words already spilling from his mouth.

“I challenge you to eternal conquest.”

His tone was steady now. Confident.

He had died longer than he could remember.

Each death more brutal than the last.

The fake Vastro leaned forward, his voice calm but sharp.

“Tell me,” he said, “do you truly believe you can win?”

Vastro grinned.

“Since you’re me,” he replied, “shouldn’t you already know the answer?”

The fake Vastro chuckled, the sound taunting.

“We shall see.”

The battle repeated.

Once more, Vastro meditated. Once more, he burned through endless possibilities.

Still no certain victory.

Hopeless.

Until something clicked.

Two paths emerged.

One had a ten percent chance of success.

The other had only two percent.

Both were insane.

His summons were destroyed. His chaos barriers shattered. He died again.

Two trials left.

This time, when Vastro stood before the fake Vastro, his words came out different.

“I think I’ve been killed enough,” he said quietly.

Then he looked straight into that cosmic blue flaming eye and grin.

“It’s your turn to die.”

To be continued…..

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