What happened when Burn faced off against the White Dwarf, you ask?

It was after he'd gobbled up Luminus into his ever-burgeoning empire and right before his frosty march to Wintersin.

Ever the gracious host, Burn had managed to irk the intergalactic community by offing a couple of their most cherished VIPs.

Enter the White Dwarf, a weapon so paradoxically mighty yet mini, it could’ve been a tall teenager’s overzealous science project. The mini part, not the apocalyptically mighty part.

Despite its compact size, the thing weighed a ton—think of it as a cosmic dumbbell. And the handling? Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly user-friendly.

This petite powerhouse packed the punch of a stellar core, turning "unlimited laser beams in a box" from sci-fi fantasy into a terrifying reality.

To wield it, you needed the finesse of a spaceship gunner and the brawn of a mech warrior, all while clad in special armor and flanked by a personal army—because apparently, operating a handheld apocalypse was a team sport.

So, when Burn took on the White Dwarf, it was less of a duel and more of an absurd dance with destiny, armed with a weapon that was essentially a star trapped in metal, looking for an excuse to explode. Needless to say, it was anything but a discreet affair.

But.

Its use on the ground was RARE.

It required special authorization from the faceless higher-ups residing millions of light-years away from this world. Obtaining the necessary permit would undoubtedly take a considerable amount of time.

Burn couldn't help but suspect that the request to employ this resource on the ground, coinciding with the day before his march to Wintersin, had been meticulously processed long ago, awaiting the perfect excuse to surface.

And what better timing than the elimination of their esteemed VIP customers? It was simply too convenient.

But this fast? Oh, they must be bending the rules somehow. Who needed permits anyway, right?

So, it seemed that someone, in their infinite wisdom, decided to play the covert card and unleash the big gun without waiting for the official stamp of approval.

Now, let's not go overboard with it. One or two shots fired, tops. They wouldn't want to obliterate too many resources or draw too much attention.

Though, Burn couldn’t help but wonder if someone with grand authority had a hand in orchestrating this spectacle. They must be the mastermind behind it all, pulling the strings from their cushy throne.

That was precisely why Burn was super confident he could handle it himself. Even with permits, they wouldn't be able to go overboard with the weapon, for fear of accidentally destroying the planet.

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But, they were the type of people who would use the weapon illegally anyway, so there was no guarantee they wouldn’t go overboard.

In previous loops, Burn's fights were quite quick.

This time, however, Burn knew they would wait until he let his guard down—since previously, they attacked just after Burn and Momo had calmed Yvain down.

Thus, he told his generals and aides to spread the information that he wanted the capital emptied for his 'me time.'

Because nothing says 'relaxing alone' like evicting thousands and turning a bustling metropolis into a ghost town. Clearly, Burn’s idea of self-care involved less bubble baths and more strategic vacuums.

Here he was, drinking wine, wearing a luxurious house robe, sitting on the open balcony of the palace, overlooking the city below—alone. He had been waiting for almost half a day.

"Should I jerk off?" he muttered, thinking of the most vulnerable, careless state he could be seen in.

But as he thought about jerking off, a face crossed his mind instead. He looked down and narrowed his eyes at his crotch. "So this is what it feels like to have a brain in one's pants."

Morgan Le Fay’s face, huh?

Once again, he spoke to his rebellious anatomy—“That’s your type?”

One of these days, his dick would scream that it wasn’t its fault, and Burn would understand himself a bit more instead of shutting it up.

Speaking of self-awareness, it might be a normal reaction toward the memory of a woman he had kissed almost non-stop for 48 hours inside his claustrophobic chariot.

Not to mention how pretty she was.

"Momo… Empress, huh?"

Bzzzt—

Burn’s pupil shrunk.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!!

Right on cue.

Who would have thought that it would come at him just as Burn was navigating the treacherous waters of self-reflection and anatomical betrayal?

He was actually a bit off guard.

From the horizon, with a love note attached in the form of a deadly laser, came the White Dwarf's greeting. The shot was not just a casual hello; it was aimed with the precision of a scorned lover, directly at the palace, with Burn as its heartthrob.

Pure white.

The blast was an overachiever. The kind of spectacle that wouldn't just settle for a loud bang—it craved a full-on light show. The heat was immediate, a sweltering embrace that could melt the resolve of any.

The light was the kind of brilliant that had anyone questioning their life choices, illuminating every corner of his now-not-so-cozy balcony. It swallowed the space like a starved celestial being, leaving nothing in its wake but a memory of what once was.

When the light and heat finally receded, like party guests who realized they were at the wrong address, the devastation was clear.

The palace now resembled a field of ashes—nothing but a huge crater with fine dust. And Burn was nowhere to be seen.

For that specific second.

“Found ya.”

Thanks to that first shot, he was able to pinpoint the direction of the source. With his house robe and the trusty sword he summoned, he kicked the air and flew straight at it.

But one mustn’t forget that the White Dwarf didn’t have a cooldown period.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!!

With its unlimited reserves of energy and a complete disregard for cooldown, it defied the laws of thermodynamics, possessing a self-sustaining cooling mechanism, drawing from its own boundless energy source.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!!

Shot after shot, it spared no expense, knowing no limits. Like a child with an infinite supply of fireworks, it reveled in its unyielding arsenal.

BLAST! BLAAAAASTT!

As the White Dwarf discharged its energy, it converted the excess into a cooling mechanism. This self-sustaining system ensured that the weapon could maintain its furious assault without pause.

With the greatest technology ever created, it defied the very principles of thermodynamic equilibrium, as if possessing a perpetual air conditioner in the depths of space.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTT!

Even so, the user remained an ordinary human.

Would a special suit designed for the White Dwarf's user make a difference? It could only go so far. Technology may have its limits, but what about the user themselves?

Would they possess the skill and precision necessary to aim and take down Emperor Burn, who was consciously prepared for such an attack?

The answer was simple: No.