The mechanical colossus looms ominously before "André," its massive frame casting an oppressive shadow over the arena. Waves of dense Mana radiate from the creature, suffocating the air around them. Its sheer size and power exude the presence of a powerful [A] rank entity, enough to make the ground tremble beneath them. But “André”—he barely flinches. If anything, he is amused.

A twisted smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. For all its size, grandeur, and showmanship, the creature before him is little more than a pest—a mere nuisance that stands in his way. The flicker of amusement in his eyes turns darker as the massive entity booms its voice across the arena.

"You dare enter this place?" its tone is metallic and contemptuous, as if it could crush André simply by its presence.

André’s grin deepens, growing more sinister, and his eyes narrow. He twirls the shadowy scythe in his hand, its blade crackling with dark energy and humming with lethal intent. The arena, bathed in golden light, seems to fade into the background as his focus centers on the colossus, unimpressed by its arrogance.

"I do not merely enter," André says, his voice a calm, almost whispered threat that echoes with deadly promise. "I’m here to kill you."

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, each step sending a ripple of dark power across the ground. His crimson eyes burn with malice, and the grin twists into something crueler.

"You dared to open the Stargate… to invade my world—the world I intend to conquer," André continues, his voice chilling. "And for that... you will die."

"Hahahaha!" The mechanical creature’s laugh booms across the arena, echoing through the realm. "You, a human, kill me? So stupid! You cannot comprehend the power you face!"

"Me, a human?"

André’s voice cuts through the creature’s mocking laughter, cold and razor-sharp. The words strike him with a strange, bitter amusement. Human. The very race he has long despised.

A low chuckle escapes his throat, and soon, his body begins to shake, slowly at first, then uncontrollably. His laughter grows louder, more maniacal with each passing second.

"Hahahaha…HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

His laugh reverberates across the arena, its intensity sending ripples. The realm seems to tremble beneath the weight of his manic laughter as if the very fabric of this place bends to his rage.

The more he laughs, the angrier he becomes. The insult—the mere idea that this creature would dare call him human—is laughable but also enrages him. The human race is weak, pitiful, and beneath him. To be compared to them? To be lumped in with them?

"Me, a human?!" he roars, his voice shaking the heavens. "How dare you!"

—Fwoosh!

In an instant, “André” unleashes a surge of [SS] rank Mana that explodes outward like a storm. The entire realm shudders under its weight. His dark power pulses violently, suffocating the golden light of the arena as if it has no place there. The Mana pressure is so intense and overwhelming that even the massive mechanical creature pauses, its towering frame wavering in hesitation.

The arrogance in its glowing eyes falters briefly, and the entire realm seems to acknowledge the true danger that stands before it.

André’s eyes, burning crimson, fix on the creature, and his voice, now colder than death itself, drips with venom.

"I am far beyond anything you can comprehend."

With that cold declaration, “André” unsummons his shadowy scythe, his hands now free. His dark wings materialize behind him again, spreading wide with a menacing flap as he takes to the air, moving faster than light. His figure is a blur, streaking toward the mechanical colossus like a dark comet.

Despite its immense power and size, the massive creature barely has time to react. Its glowing eyes widen in surprise as “André” closes the distance instantly.

—Boom!

André’s foot slams into the colossus’s chest, the force of the kick sending the creature hurtling backward. The ground cracks beneath it as it is driven into the arena floor. “André” descends upon it without hesitation, his fists and feet a relentless blur as he unleashes his fury.

—Thud! Crack! Boom!

Each punch, kick, and headbutt creates shockwaves that ripple throughout the realm. The sky seems to fracture, cracks appearing in the golden expanse above it as if reality is breaking under the sheer force of André’s physical onslaught.

He doesn’t need his scythe or care to use it. His rage demands something more visceral. He wants to feel every hit, every shattering impact, as he punishes the creature for its insult.

—Thud! Thud! Thud!

André’s fists drive down mercilessly, pounding the mechanical colossus into the ground. Each punch sends waves of Mana crashing through the realm, causing the earth to quake and the air to tremble. He stands atop the creature’s broken body, raining blow after blow, the sound of metal crunching and splintering beneath his wrath.

He is relentless.

Then, the sound of wings catches his attention.

"Rahh!"

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“André” pauses, his fist hovering mid-air. He turns his head, his crimson eyes narrowing, and sees a massive swarm of creatures—billions of them—flooding the sky and coming toward him to aid the Alpha. Their numbers blot out the golden light of the realm, casting the arena into shadow.

“André” stands up slowly, his hands stained with the remains of the colossus’s broken frame. His expression twists in disgust as he counts them, one by one, until the full number of billions registers in his mind.

"More pests..." he mutters, his voice laced with boredom.

He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, his crimson gaze glows, burning with malevolent intensity. The billions of creatures charging toward him freeze mid-flight, their bodies trembling as an overwhelming wave of fear washes over them. His very presence paralyzes them.

Returning to the broken colossus beneath him, André’s voice is low, menacing. "Hey, where’s the Celestial Paragon of this planet?"

"The Paragon... is dead..."

Though severely damaged, the colossus manages to respond, its voice weak and distorted.

André’s eyes narrow sharply, his tone darkening. "Dead? Explain yourself."

The creature struggles, sparks flying from its mechanical limbs as it speaks. "Our Paragon... was killed... all of a sudden... its Mana drained… as it died... it created a portal that led to your... world..."

André’s face twists into a dark smirk. "Your Paragon got killed, huh?" he mutters.

He knows what this means. Celestial Paragons are not beings that can simply die. They are the supreme entities tied to their respective planets, embodying the essence of the world they protect. Each Paragon is a god-like figure, eternal and indestructible by natural means.

To kill a Paragon requires something more—a conceptual weapon, an artifact or force that can challenge the very essence of their existence. These beings transcend life and death, bound to their planets as eternal guardians. The idea that one has been slain means that something, or someone, wields a force capable of defying the divine.

"So, the being who killed the Paragon of this world probably used a conceptual weapon," “André” mutters, piecing together the puzzle.

The death of the Paragon has left this world defenseless, and the creatures had assumed someone from Sylvestria was responsible, leading them to invade his world in a misguided attempt at revenge.

But now, “André” stands in their realm, an invader in his own right.

"How ironic..." he says, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

The creatures who sought to destroy Sylvestria now find themselves at the mercy of a being far beyond anything they could have imagined. With their Paragon dead, nothing can stand in his way.

He can feel the satisfaction building within him, the desire to wreak havoc, to tear this world apart. With no protector left, it will be his to destroy, to crush under the weight of his power.

The thought fills him with dark joy.

"And now..." André’s voice is a whisper, filled with malice, "This world is mine to ruin."

André’s vision shifts. The realm's ethereal yellow light is now black, with lines crisscrossing everything—the sky, the ground, the bodies of billions of creatures, even the mechanical colossus beneath him. These are the Death Lines, the very threads of existence, and he can see them everywhere.

He grins, his crimson eyes glowing with manic anticipation, and raises his hand. In an instant, the shadowy scythe reappears, materializing in his grip. Its blade is darker than night, humming with raw, destructive energy.

"By shadow's edge and death's decree, I sever life from destiny…"

The words drip from his lips like a dark incantation, his voice filled with malice and power. As the final syllables leave his mouth, his Mana aura increases, reaching the peak of [SS] Rank—a power level comparable to the Grand Magicians of Sylvestria.

The entire realm quakes under the sheer weight of his Mana.

—Fwoosh!

The air around him crackles and warps, bending under the pressure of his energy.

"…A scythe to reap, an end to all…" He grins darkly, his eyes alight with twisted joy as he speaks. "Grim Reaper!"

—Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

To any onlooker, it appears that “André” swings his scythe just once—a single, graceful motion. But in reality, he slices through every one of the billions of Death Lines in a Planck instant, his speed so incomprehensible that it seems like a mere flick of the wrist. His scythe cleaves through everything—the creatures, the colossus, the world itself.

For a moment, there is silence.

Then, everything he has cut begins to disintegrate. The billions of creatures, once an overwhelming force, crumble into slow, fading fragments, dissolving as if they had never existed. The colossus beneath him cracks, its massive body splitting apart before dissolving into nothingness.

Even the world around him begins to collapse. The golden skies fracture like shattered glass, disintegrating into dust. The very realm falls apart, the ground beneath him splitting open, the light of the realm snuffed out, consumed by the encroaching void.

André’s laughter echoes through the dying world, a maniacal sound filled with glee and satisfaction. His voice carries across the realm as it crumbles around him, the destruction he has caused filling him with a twisted sense of joy. This is his power. This is his domain.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" His laughter grows louder and more unhinged as he hovers in the sky, watching everything fall apart.

As the last remnants of the realm disintegrate, “André” spreads his shadowy wings once more, the dark aura still pulsing around him. With a final, mocking glance at the devastation below, he turns and flies toward the Stargate, his silhouette fading into the blackness, leaving nothing behind but ruin.

════⋆★⋆════

“André” emerges from the swirling [A] Ranked Stargate, its portal snapping shut behind him with a deafening finality. The skies over the ruined town in the Eñeforte territory remain darkened, the ground littered with debris from the chaos that unfolded. He lands lightly, his shadowy wings folding behind him as he surveys the destruction. A wicked smirk plays on his lips; satisfaction is evident in his expression.

"Hey, weakling, it’s time to switch back," André’s voice drips with impatience, his red, glowing eyes gleaming.

He expects the real André to surface, to reclaim control as usual. They’ve followed this routine many times—he would take control, wreak havoc, and the real André would eventually pull himself back from the depths of his consciousness. The weakling always does, no matter how deep the entity pushes him.

But this time…

There is no response.

André’s grin falters briefly, confusion flashing across his face. He can feel the familiar pull, the sensation of the real André trying to fight his way back, but this time… nothing. The silence in his mind is unnerving.

His grin returns, but now there’s a flicker of uncertainty behind it.

"Oh… how interesting."

He glances around the ruined landscape, his fingers twitching with anticipation. The real André hasn’t reclaimed control. He hasn’t even tried. What could that mean? Was the weakling finally broken? Had he finally taken full control of this body?

The idea excites him.

And if the real André isn’t coming back…

Then he is free. Free to unleash as much chaos as he desires and finally conquer Sylvestria the way he wants. The real André always held back, always restrained him. Now, there’s no one to stop him.

His eyes flash with violent glee as he considers his next move. First, he wants to deal with a certain red-haired magician who dared to stand in his way and whose presence annoys him. That pathetic, weakling magician, Maurice. He would die first—painfully.

And then? Oh, then he will go after everything the real André cares about. His friends, his allies, and everyone he loves. He will tear them apart, one by one, and relish the sight of their world burning.

His smile twists into something far darker.

"And after Maurice... I'll destroy everyone and everything he loves."