Monarchs of Ruination

NOX's expression remained solemn as his past self hesitated to kill Lucas. He could only hope that his younger self would be able to withstand the consequences of that moment of doubt.

But deep down, he already knew the truth.

With a quiet sigh, he gazed at the path ahead—the inescapable descent into despair that awaited his younger self once more.

"You really did hide too deep, didn't you?" The Fool asked, his grin stretching wide, mischief flickering in his eyes.

NOX remained silent. He knew exactly what The Fool was doing—fishing for information, weaving half-truths into undeniable facts. Even if NOX responded with a lie, this irritating clown would twist it, unraveling the deception until he found something dangerously close to the truth.

So, NOX chose silence. He refused to be caught in The Fool's net—a guessing game where every wrong answer only led to the right one.

But to The Fool, even silence was an answer.

He smirked, already spinning assumptions into probabilities, probabilities into certainty. And, of course, he voiced them aloud—for no other reason than to annoy NOX.

"From start to finish, you never made a single move—not directly, not indirectly.

You didn't even know the Primordial Guardians had stepped onto this chessboard. Your expression was far too genuine when you learned it from me.

So… let's start there, shall we?"

His grin widened.

"Let's assume you held back to avoid alerting the Guardians. Makes sense, right? But then, why stay at all?

Remaining here also risks exposure. The Wisdom Eye saw you, and you didn't even attempt to hide. That contradicts your supposed caution.

Which means… you weren't afraid of being seen.

That leads us to three possibilities. And one of them, of course, is the truth."

He began to count on his fingers, dramatic as ever.

"First speculation— You're just a creature of curiosity! You stuck around simply because, like me, you enjoy the spectacle. The fun, the chaos—you wanted to watch how it all unfolded, Guardians be damned.

Probability of truth: 13 out of 100. Low, but not impossible."

He waved his hand dismissively, already moving on.

"Second speculation— You're… softhearted? Ah, what a twist!

You lingered to ensure your younger self's safety.

A noble thought, except… you never flinched. Not once. Even when your younger self nearly sacrificed himself.

That suggests you already knew the outcome. Perhaps you knew Lucas wouldn't kill him?

Probability of truth: 27 out of 100. A bit more likely, assuming you trusted fate."

He chuckled. "I'm getting closer, aren't I?"

And then, his smirk sharpened into something… dangerous.

"Now, the third speculation—the most absurd, the most terrifying. The one that, if true, would make you more dangerous than the Primordial Guardians themselves.

You hid too deep!

Not because you couldn't interfere—but because you never needed to.

Because this game… was never beyond your control to begin with."

He trailed off.

The probability game stopped.

The Fool's eyes widened, his ever-present grin faltering as he stared at the mature NOX.

"You… you're not….—"

His voice caught.

For the first time in countless cycles, The Fool did not finish his sentence.

There was no excitement in his expression now. Only fear.

Primal!

Raw!

Fear!

A fear that should not exist in something like him.

Then—NOX chuckled. A low, knowing sound.

"Why stop? I was enjoying your little guessing game." His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable weight behind his words.

He tilted his head slightly, watching The Fool with something akin to amusement.

"It warms my heart," NOX mused, "that after countless Cycles of Creation… you still fear me."

The Fool remained frozen.

NOX took a step closer, his voice dropping into something almost melodic, almost mocking.

"On this eve of celebration, allow me to pose a simple riddle…"

He leaned in.

"The Fool is a fool… but is he truly foolish?

And if not, then what does that make you?"

The Fool fell silent.

It was bizarre.

The Fool—who could make even gods speechless, who delighted in twisting words and truths until reality itself bent—was at a loss.

For once, he had nothing to say.

A heartbeat passed.

Then—

"Ke keke ke ke."

The Fool laughed.

A twisted, eerie sound, more manic than ever. He laughed because he was afraid. He laughed because he enjoyed being afraid.

He laughed because fear was fun.

And after a few breaths, neither spoke again.

Together, they simply watched young NOX drift in the void.

******

NOX's body floated in the void. With no space, no time, and no reality to define movement, it was impossible to tell whether he was truly drifting.

Here, a moment and an eternity were one and the same. NOX lacked even the consciousness to measure the passage of time.

Then, something began to stir. A cosmic radiance seeped from his pores, a substance so foreign that it defied existence itself. There was no matter here—no space to expand, no time to flow—yet this essence moved outward, unfazed by such limitations.

It was the essence of the Sprout of Existence, the very fragment the Sprout had severed from itself and given to NOX. He had once assumed this essence was the reason he awakened his Divinity, but that no longer seemed to be the case. If anything, it deepened the mystery of his terrifying power—one so unfathomable it could not even be recorded.

The essence pulsed as if it possessed a will of its own.

After what could have been an instant or an eternity, it engulfed both NOX and the surrounding void, illuminating the emptiness.

And then—it began.

The most terrifying, incomprehensible event.

The Sprout's essence seemed to mend his body. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

'I'm still alive?' NOX thought, dazed.

He tried to take in his surroundings, his gaze straining against the void—only to realize he could see more clearly than ever before.

How? Hadn't he already sacrificed his eyes to the Primordial Guardian as proof of his devotion?

Before he could make sense of it, the essence around him trembled.

Crack!

A fracture split through the void, sending chills through NOX's being.

Crack!

The colorful radiance twisted, churned—then pulled.

An unseen force seized him, dragging at something deeper than flesh, deeper than soul. It wasn't wind, wasn't gravity—it was the reversal of causality itself.

Time, once shattered, was now dragged in reverse into the abyss where existence had crumbled.

And then, everything unraveled backward.

NOX found himself standing on the desolate moon.

But—

His breath, which had left his lungs, now surged back in as if he had never exhaled. His limbs, once drifting aimlessly, moved in perfect rewind, returning to their prior positions. His fingers opened and closed precisely as they had before, but now in reverse, like a rewound recording.

The massive foot that had once descended now retreated, undoing its devastation.

Everything that had crumbled before his eyes—every ruin, every collapse—was stitching itself back together.

Realization clawed through him.

He was experiencing time in reverse.

Every second of his past unraveling before him, dragging him through his own history. He had no control over his body, no power to stop or resist. Only his thoughts remained his own.

He saw himself separate from Lucas. The sword he had driven into Lucas's heart withdrew from the wound as if undoing the very act.

And still, time dragged him backward—every damn second.

For a brief moment, NOX wondered if he was already dead, condemned to some cruel punishment by the Heavens.

At that thought, he stopped resisting.

Fine. Let it happen.

His life was already beyond ruin. What was one more torment?

He surrendered to the flow, not that he could have fought it anyway.

He watched himself dance like a madman—cringing at his own embarrassment.

He relived the moment he slaughtered three entities.

He felt VRITRA's fist collide with his body in reverse.

He saw himself manipulating Corrupting Nothingness and Destruction Force.

He and Lucas clashed.

Seconds bled into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into centuries.

Millennia passed…..

As he reached the millennia mark, his body ached with a sickness he dubbed [Time Reversal Sickness].

—but he had no choice but to endure it. He couldn't even close his eyes, let alone sleep.

With grim amusement, NOX silently applauded the Heavens for their genius in crafting such a unique form of hell.

As the years regressed into millions, his thoughts shifted.

He began to observe. To note every event.

Because, deep down, something fragile took root inside him—hope.

Hope that this relentless reversal would take him back to his family.

The wheels of time kept turning, and that hope only grew.

Scenes continued to rewind.

He witnessed himself massacring every God and Immortal of the Upper Realm who had even remotely contributed to his family's suffering.

Millions of years unraveled.

He relived the hunt—the systematic destruction of the Human Supreme Society. Innocent or guilty, it had made no difference to him then.

And time continued its relentless march backward.

Then—familiar slums.

A woman—graceful, dying in his arms.

But NOX had relived this moment in his mind so many times that, for a fleeting second, he forgot he was even moving backward.

He heard her last words as clearly as if they had just been spoken:

"I'm sorry, second brother. I cannot protect you anymore."

His eyes burned with an emotion that belonged to both the past and present.

And still, time dragged him backward…

One by one, he relived the deaths of his family.

By now, he had reached his thirty-year-old past self.

The wheel of time continued its relentless march backward until he was seventeen—the day the Heavens revealed his [Destiny] to the world.

And then—

He stopped.

An overwhelming force prevented him from going any further.

At that moment, NOX's fragile hope transformed into desperate prayers.

Yes, he prayed.

For time to stop. For this moment to be his new reality.

It didn't matter if it was a dream or some cruel punishment from the Heavens.

He wanted to start again.

Here.

As NOX continued to pray, his vision blurred. Darkness seeped into his sight, consuming everything.

And then—

There was only darkness.