Today, the scene at the edge of the crumbling cityscape was nothing short of cinematic. The user of the White Dwarf couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "Seriously, a house robe? Is it pajama day and nobody told me?" he quipped, eyeing Burn's luxurious attire with amusement.
And he didn’t get hit at all!
Burn, clad in his silk robe which fluttered dramatically with every nimble dodge, looked like he had mistaken an apocalyptic showdown for a spa day. His sword gleamed under the flickering lights of the ruined buildings. Yet, despite the seemingly mismatched ensemble, Burn moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior, effortlessly evading the relentless barrage of attacks.
“Fuck this.”
The user of the White Dwarf, not one to be underestimated, manipulated the cosmic powers of his device with a smirk. Energy pulsed from the White Dwarf, casting eerie shadows as it charged for another attack. "Let's see if your robe has superpowers too," the user taunted, unleashing a wave of condensed starlight straight at Burn.
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST!!
“COMMANDER! HE’S CLOSING IN!”
“Shut up.”
Well, Burn, with a flick of his wrist and a well-timed roll, avoided every shot as if he were dancing through raindrops without getting wet.
As the fight escalated, the user of the White Dwarf couldn't help but admire Burn's audacity and skill. So this was the man who single handedly stopped the first wave, huh.
"This sucks," he commented dryly, even as he prepared another powerful blast.
Burn, in response, simply flashed a daring grin and adjusted his robe like a cape. With a swift motion, he lunged forward, his blade singing through the air.
“Defense!” ‘Commander’ yelled, “The closer he is, the easier for us to hit him!”
Burn, seemingly unfazed by the tactical shift, merely tightened the sash of his robe—a gesture that somehow managed to convey both supreme confidence and a touch of sarcasm. "Easier to hit, you say? I suppose we'll see about that," he murmured, almost to himself, as he spiraled closer into the heart of the enemy's formation.
The user of the White Dwarf snorted in amusement, watching Burn's audacious approach. "Well, folks, here he comes," he commented to his comrades.
As Burn drew nearer, the soldiers adjusted their aim, weapons trained with deadly precision. Yet, Burn moved like a shadow, his steps unpredictably rhythmic, dodging bullets and energy blasts as if partaking in some deadly dance. "Remarkable," the White Dwarf user admitted begrudgingly. "He dodges bullets better than the trainer AI."
Unleashing another surge of white-hot starlight, the user aimed directly at Burn, who not only evaded but managed to deflect the attack using the flat of his blade. The deflected energy bolt careened off into the night, illuminating the ruined cityscape like a fleeting comet.
“Probably shouldn’t do it more than that,” Burn muttered, thinking of preserving the life of his blade.
The Commander, growing increasingly frustrated, signaled for a tighter circle. "Encircle him with your attack! He can't dodge all of us!" he ordered.
The soldiers aimed in, creating a ring of laser and firepower around Burn. The user of the White Dwarf watched, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, this I have to see. A battle mage in a bathrobe, trapped in a ring of death. What will he do next? Output 0,0005%!"
Burn, center stage in the lethal arena, paused midair in a split second and seemed to assess his situation. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he lifted his sword high. "If it's a show you want, it's a show you'll get," he declared. In a blur of silk and steel, Burn launched forward.
“What?!” the user widened his eyes seeing how Burn lunged right into the attack. He couldn’t dodge or deflect it anymore—
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTTT!!!
“The thing is…”
Burn also wasn’t the man he was in the original timeline.
Pointing his sword in front of him, toward the blast, just before it entered his space—he absorbed it.
“Twenty eight? …No, nine? Quite heavy.”
Burn recalled the delightful memory of those ten, count 'em, TEN, consecutive blasts from the 20 latest version mech armors of Velaryon. Felt about as heavy as a marshmallow on a diet.
The shot from the White Dwarf, well this one packed quite a punch, like twenty nine equivalent of the ten consecutive blasts, all rolled up in a neat little cosmic package.
It was just another sunny souvenir—another creation of a star.
The White Dwarf, a remnant of a stellar core, was just a leftover from a celestial cookout. And today, Burn gathered up all that stellar dross, brandishing a condensed, reassembled, super-dense star on his sword tip.
Revival.
“I didn’t get paid enough for this…” the user grumbled under his breath.
You know, a bit of wisdom in the warrior's manual is knowing when to fold 'em, when to say "no thank you" to imminent danger. Our friend, the White Dwarf user, was a commander with an uncanny talent for reading the room...or the battlefield, as it were.
Always seemed to know just when to swap his sword for sneakers.
“We must run.”
Up in the great blue yonder, there floated a man, swathed in a robe that was billowing in the wind, raised his sword straight up the top of his head.
He held aloft a sword with a miniature pea-sized sun on its tip, a little DIY project he'd revived from a white dwarf's leftover stellar core. It gleamed in the sky, putting Nethermere's solar system's sun to shame with its VIP access to proximity and luminescence.
He was—“So, this is Apex Two, huh?”
But before they could run, they had to shoot—faster than him, with a higher output, the best they could handle. “We will clear our way out with 2% output now.”
“But sir, that—!”
“Yes, we can possibly decimate this planet, but do you want to die?”
So, you're wondering how the White Dwarf was cooked up? Well, sit tight, because this tale involved modern technology on steroids, mythical accessories, and a whole lot of heat.
First off, the makers harnessed the core of stellar remnants, using its heat energy to whip up the kind of power that could make the apocalypse look like a minor inconvenience.
The catch? No fusion energy left in that starry carcass. It had become a white dwarf after all. It was all heat, baby, a cosmic space heater that didn't quit until the core went cold turkey.
Now, creating the White Dwarf wasn't as simple as putting a pot on the stove. The technology of the modern civilization was supercharged by the Heart of *****, a mythical gem rumored to be the last twinkling tear of a dying deity.
This little trinket had the power to fortify the function of any device it was plugged into. And when one said "fortify," one might mean "turn into a weapon of mass destruction."
Then came the fun part: turning this stellar core remnant into a weapon. It was like trying to turn a rabid rhino into a house pet. The Heart of ***** amplified the energy harvesting process, condensing the heat from the core into a manageable form.
This was then channeled into a weapon casing made from Etlequarzite, an ancient metal harder than a calculus problem and rarer than a quiet politician.
Channeling the heat energy of the core through the Etlequarzite casing created a contained, directed weapon of unimaginable power. The result? The White Dwarf. A weapon that could make even the hardest of intergalactic warlords wet their space pants.
And there you have it. The creation of the White Dwarf: a cosmic cocktail of science, myth, and a dash of suicidal bravery—that used to be impossible to wield on the ground.
Only 1% of its power could decimate any ground, nonetheless.
But still, to kill this man—no. To merely run away from this man, they needed to use double that!
Burn sighed. Come to think of all that, in the previous loop, he allowed them to hit him when he was off guard. He wondered if he’d die by that surprise attack if Momo didn’t push him out of the way.
The answer, maybe he’d survive.
But not unscathed.
He was vigilant and serious now, using a hundred percent of his power, so they wouldn’t be able to catch him off guard again. But would he survive 2% output of the weapon?
The answer would be, no. It seemed that they had overestimated him.
But at that crucial time, rather than being afraid, Burn was seen grinning. 2% of the power of a dying sun, huh? How exciting. How exciting!
Now that he couldn’t die anyway, would he be able to face that absolute destruction head on without consequence?
“FIRE!” Burn was burning with curiosity. “Fire it with everything you got!”
2% might be the limit for them. To disable Burn and to let them run away scott free. But with this provocation, Burn might find his own limit, and the ground use of the White Dwarf.
“But well, that woman would be mad at me.”
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSTTT!!!